Monday, July 30, 2018

Adaptation, not Mitigation


                Climate Change.

                Twenty years ago, when we first moved into our little house, I scraped and painted the entire exterior one summer. In doing so, I learned all about the micro-climates in the yard. The south facing wall was hot—to be avoided during peak sun hours—but could be used to grow heat loving crops. I moved my tomato barrels to that space and never looked back. They throve.  Every few years, I changed out the soil so that it was not diseased. I always had to water the plants more than when they were in the back yard, which is sometimes shaded, but they bounced back in the evening.

                This year, I decided to move crops around. I put the tomatoes in two raised beds in the back yard, where they are huge, lush, and covered with fruits. I planted my corn and scarlet runner beans in the front beds and the winter squashes in the barrels, dreaming of reading on the couch to the sound of rustling corn leaves.  It has been a failure. It looks like a scene from The Grapes of Wrath, even with daily watering.  

                What is different? Where we once had a few days a summer where the temperatures rose to the nineties in that space of the yard, we now have several days in a row where the temperature is over 100 degrees against the wall. The vines do not shade the wall; they cannot grow in the heat. The corn, which is a drier, grassy plant, is fried.  These very hot days are no longer an aberration that will shift quickly; they are normal.

                We talk about mitigation of climate change regularly, things we can do to reduce the amount of greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere. The usual—drive and fly less, eat less meat, insulate your attic, etc. We rarely talk about adaptation to the changes that have already occurred. I need to adapt to the changing climate in my yard. My mitigation—growing vines to cool the wall—has failed. I must adapt if I wish to use that space for growing crops. My plan for next year is garlic, some winter wheat, and early lettuces and mustards.  It will be mulched, but not planted, in late July and August. What else will we need to do to mitigate the impacts of increasingly hot, dry summers here in Oregon?

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Hose Repair


                It is hose season. All of the planting, seeding, mulching, and weeding is done and I spend my days hauling hoses around, watering planters and hitching them up to the garden irrigation systems.  The hoses are growing old; I put them in twenty years ago now, so they have issues. On clear mornings, I will start the water running through the veggie garden and head inside for a second cup of tea. Ten minutes later, I come out to a geyser, water shooting seven feet in the air from the center of a bed. Every other creature in the yard is thrilled. The bees fly over to drink the water from the leaves; the rabbit and chickens are excited by the event; the cat hides from the spray.  I peer into the bed, soaking my glasses so that I cannot see the problem. This is always a wet repair.

Hose Repair steps:
1.       Find the leak. Get very wet in the process.
2.       Find the trimmers, which cut a soaker hose quite well.
3.       If possible, recruit an assistant to trun ff the water once the leak is located.
4.       Cut the hose while the water is running. I’ve tried to shut the water off, but I can never find the leak, even if I marked it with a twig. Water flows through the garden bed, but no longer in the air.
5.       Shut off the water.
6.       Find the repair bucket. This happens often enough that I keep repair supplies on hand, along with spare irrigation parts.
7.       Find two hose clamps and the plastic tube.
8.        Slide the hose clamps on the hose first.
9.       Splice the hose with a plastic tube. Move the clamps right up on the tube.
10.   Crank down on the hose clamps as tightly as possible.
11.   Turn on the water for testing.
12.   Retighten the clamps.
13.   Rearrange the mulch over the hose.
14.   Go inside, put the kettle on, and dry your face and hair. Maybe change shirts.

Every summer, I swear I will replace the sweat hoses for the next season and, every spring, I lay them down as I plant out the veg starts. Maybe next year...


Sunday, July 8, 2018

Santiam Lake via Duffy Butte plant list-- July 7, 2018



Santiam Lake via Duffy Butte—July 7th, 2018
Beargrass
Small flowered penstemon
Spirea
Indian Paintbrush
Shooting Stars
Valerian
Mariposa Lily
Microsenuis Borealis
Arnica
Arrowleaved Goundsel
Phlox
Queen’s cup
Bunchberry
Foamflower
Starflower
Lousewort sp.
Dog Violet
Lesser spearwort (buttercup)
Wild strawberries—2 sp.
Boreal Sandwort
Twinflower
Sweet Cicely
Twinberry
Vanilla Leaf
Rose
White Hawkweed
Pathfinder
Vetch—white and purple
Anemone
Cascade Lily
Sulfur Erigonium
Lupine
Evergreen violet
Clover—sp.
False Hellebore
Yellow Avens
Mertensia
False Lily of the Valley
Monkeyflower
Wintergreen
Pyrola Secunda
Columbine



Mary's Peak plant list-- July 4, 2018


Mary’s Peak plant list. July 4th, 2018

From the top down to Conner’s Camp….

Sheep Sorrel
Tiger Lily
Lupine
Yarrow
Blue Gilia
Cardwell’s Penstemon
Douglas’s Catchfly
Indian Paintbrush
Wallflower
Oregon sunshine
Field Chickweed
Dogbane
Larkspur
Fringe Cup
Bear Grass
California Figwort
Foam flower
Thimbleberry
Anemone
Twinflower
Inside-out Flower
Pathfinder
Big-leafed sandwort
Martindale’s Lomatium
Footsteps of Spring
Yellow violet (V. glabella)
Columbine
Sweet cicely
A large vetch
Native Blackberry
Bleeding Heart
Arrow-leaved Goundsel
Vanilla Leaf
Monkey Flower
Small flowered buttercup
Phacelia
Salal
Wall lettuce
False Solomon’s Seal
Iris
Fairy Bells
Wild Rose
Hare’s Foot Clover
Foxglove
Queen Anne’s Lace
St Johnswort
Hawkweed

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

I am uncomfortable.


I am uncomfortable when I take a long walk at 5:30 AM on the Fourth of July because my neighbors ended their all night party on the roof of their house and I could not sleep.  I pass at least a dozen mattresses labeled “free” that were left behind when OSU students moved out and then see three different men sleeping on the cement benches downtown.

I am uncomfortable when a series of individuals, mostly with shopping carts and bike trailers, cruise by the dumpster across the way every day to see what has been left neatly beside the container to be taken away. I am more uncomfortable when I see someone digging through an over stuffed dumpster for a perfectly fine toaster.

I am uncomfortable when, while searching for a lost cat at six AM, I find a group of people just waking up in the breezeway of Saint Mary’s church. They have not seen her, they tell me, but will keep an eye out.  Or I pass by the Lutheran church on the corner on my way home from a late night meeting in January and hear a boombox softly playing next to a mound on their bench.

I am uncomfortable when we march through the streets of Portland to protest the election and pass by tents set up under the bridge. I have a raincoat and plan to go out for an expensive dinner later that evening.

I am uncomfortable that I have students who cannot do their reading at night because they are sleeping on the lobby floor at the family shelter.

I am uncomfortable that success in advanced high school  classes is often tied to income levels.

I am uncomfortable when I am walking downtown on Sunday morning and we pass an older man talking loudly. He is swearing and repeating all of the phrases I have heard recently about the behavior of the homeless men in Central Park. Is he on the phone or talking to himself?

I am uncomfortable because I know, as does Ma in The Grapes of Wrath, that  “If you're in trouble or hurt or need—go to poor people. They're the only ones that'll help—the only ones.” I ask for help with my car at working class bars and from tow truck drivers. Ex police officers always stop.

I am uncomfortable when people say things that, if we replaced “homeless” with “African-American,” they would be clearly racist.

I am uncomfortable when my county—Benton County, Oregon—is called out as having some of the worst income inequality in the country. And it is not because the students skew the data.

I am very uncomfortable when we, as a community, continue to argue about where to put the Men’s Shelter, year after year. We can do better.
                                                                        ***

I have never been homeless. I have never been unsafe, or hungry, or cold for an extended period of time.  However, I have:
·         Lived in a camper in a campground for a winter while my parents really struggled to make ends meet.
·         Doubled up with my cousins for about ten months when we moved abruptly out of our house. I loved it. I had brothers and a sister.  I am not sure my parents did.
·         Couch surfed one month in college while waiting for an apartment to open up.
·         Placed all of my things in storage and lived in my van while looking for housing in Portland.
·         Lived in the van while traveling for months at a time. One spring, I did not go inside a house for a month and a half.
·         Been so broke I did not quite have money for rent.



Sunday, June 24, 2018

Backyard symphony


Backyard Sounds: June 22nd, 2018

8 AM: The world is so quiet I can hear the bees bumping into their hive boxes.
9 AM: The irrigations system swishes and sputters in the herb garden.
10 AM: The chickens dig through the dry leaves around the compost bins.
11 AM: Pigeons call. It is still cool and cloudy this morning.
12 AM:  A chicken has laid an egg!
1 PM: Bush tits pass through.
2 PM: A neighbor is mowing the lawn.
3 PM: A young jay lays claim to the pool and tries to eat a few bees.
4 PM: NPR
5 PM: Bees go wild. The sun is fully on the hives.
6 PM: Sea breeze rustles the leaves and swings the wind chimes.
7 PM: Dinner.
8 PM: Happy dogs bark in the distance.




Cascade Head Plant list


Cascade Head Plant List—June 23, 2018


We began the list when we broke from the trees, then caught the woodland plants on the way down.

False Dandelion
Yarrow
White Clover
Lupine
Wild cucumber
Heal all
Sheep’s sorrel
Buckthorn
Small flowered lotus
Foxglove
Field chickweed
Checkermallow
Yellow Lotus
Thistle (sp)
Cow Parsnip
Hedge nettle
Sow thistle
Spring Beauty
Curly Dock
Monkey Flower
Himalayan blackberry
Water Hemlock (?)
Fringe Cup
Catchfly
Vetch (sp)
Hop clover
Field Madder
Owl Clover
Western buttercup
Waterleaf
Small flowered buttercup
Cleavers
English daisy
Creeping buttercup
Nettles