Parsnips!

Yesterday, I dug what I thought was the last few parsnips. If you had asked me how many where in the ground, I would have replied about six…Mr Beezhold, the hungry bunny, has been eating the tops like mad, so it was hard to tell. When I dug in, I found at least two dozen solid roots. Some were intertwined. Some reached down into the clay a foot below. A few were small and popped right out, but they just kept coming. I gave them all a quick bath with the hose, roasted three for dinner, and began to re-plan our meals for the week. Parsnip and Cheddar soup, here we come.

Other parsnip options:

·         Sautéed with butter

·         Parsnip muffins

·         Parsnip cake with cream cheese frosting

·         Gratin with leeks, fennel, and potatoes, garlic

·         Winter Minestrone soup

Parsnip and Cheddar Soup

Chop equal amounts of parsnips (peeled) and potatoes, one medium onion, and about half the amount of carrots.  Barely cover with water, add salt, pepper, and some caraway seed and dill, and boil gently until very soft. Chunk about a quarter of a pound of cheddar. Toss the veggies and the cheese together into the cuisnart and puree. Return to the pot, add milk to achieve the right consistency, and heat slowly. Eat for dinner with cornbread and salad.

Spring!

    

            It may be a cold, late spring in the Willamette Valley, but Spring is coming. The daffodils are all blooming. Tulips are beginning.  The plum trees are snowing petals on the paths, which confuse the chickens. “Can I eat it?” they wonder and peck. There are eggs every day in the coop (or out of the coop, if they have escaped). I have transplanted the lettuce and peas, kales and cabbages, into the south side bed, which is the warmest place in the yard. Inside the greenhouse, the tomatoes are bumped up into gallon pots for ours and four inch pots to give away. Other plants are also waiting for homes—a few cabbages, broccoli, and radicchio are sitting on the shelf. I’ve begun the next round of starts with the early summer greens but they are sitting inside, waiting to go to school on Monday morning.  And, yes, the wet grass needs a mow and the lawnmower needs to be sharpened. Spring. It comes, as always, in a rush.

Fever Dreams

                Do you remember being sick when you were little—sick enough to stay home from school, but not sick enough for your mother, who had no car and lived in the country, to re-organize a planned shopping trip? I am hovering in that same state this weekend, occasionally lying on the couch in the sun with the cat, with low fever dreams floating through my mind.

                Haverhill, Massachusetts was a dying mill town when we lived in Hampstead. The shoe and fabric industries were all moving south for cheaper labor, into the Appalachian mountains and then even further south, out of the country.  Nothing was really moving in. The downtown was shabby, despite some remodeling in the late 1950s and some urban renewal brutilist apartment building from about 1965. Some storefronts were empty. Others had floors blocked off, merchandise spread a little thin to make it look fuller. The air was dusty; the linoleum was worn; the stores empty of people. The Christmas decorations were dated and battered. I loved to wander away from my mother and aunt, down the stairs to the book rack, where they sold first, second, and third grader readers, math textbooks, and workbooks for the Catholic school near-by. One day, my aunt, who had money, bought me one to the readers and workbooks. I was thrilled and taught school out of it for years.

                There is a beauty in these old mill towns, the old mills themselves, so tall, and orderly, and simple against a grey sky. Once bustling, now empty or re-purposed. There are huge Catholic churches made of brick, small, smelly bars, corner groceries that sell sub sandwiches that are not replicated outside of New England (trust me, I have looked). There are neighborhoods full of nineteenth century houses built as, or long ago converted to, apartments that create walkable communities. 

I am seeing them all this afternoon, along with the candlepin bowling alley where I learned to bowl, despite a cold, one winter afternoon. Memories of views from the back seat of my aunt’ station wagon, squished in with the groceries, feeling a little guilty for not being in school and a little delighted with being with adults in the middle of the day.

The Garden Notebook

               Four years ago, I started a weekly entry garden book, based upon the weeks of the year. Each week is a page with brief entries for ever year. After I figured out how to count the weeks—no mean feat—it worked.  I figured I’d have six years on the page; after four years, I think I’ll come closer to twelve. The process takes about five minutes a week, either on Saturday morning or when I do something significant during the week. This year, it has really begun to prove useful.

                It’s been cold. But, in early March, I always think that it has been cold and damp for a very long time. This year, thanks to my lovely garden book. I have evidence. Usually, the daphne is blooming by now. Some years, the camilla is covered in blossoms. The plums are blooming. This year—nothing. Buds, but no blooms. I am right. It has been cold. There has been snow.

                Because it has been cold, I feel like I am falling behind.  I should have beds covered with the hoops and plastic, prepped and planted, I think. I am a season pusher….but, when I check my notebook, I see that, really, I am on schedule. Seeds are all ordered. With the laurel hedge whacked back and the debris hauled to the compost area, I have completed pruning. I have cabbages and broccoli bumped up and under the greenhouse light. The tomatoes are just emerging in my warm classroom. I am on schedule. I am just chilly while working.

                The notebook is helping in other ways, as well. I make notes to my future self on posties and place them on the appropriate week as reminders. I have maps and seed order forms from previous years so that I have a better grasp of rotations. I have a section for next year’s plans, so that I remember to dig out the gooseberry and move it in the fall. I track rainfall in the winter, cucumber harvests and canning schedules in the summer. I know when I got that swarm of bees last spring and the last year we brought home chicks. I know when to hunt for eggs, because this flock refuses to lay in the coop. I had general knowledge in the past, but now, there is data. Evidence. I like it.

               

HB 2020

HB 2020: Contact the legislature.  This is NOT  guaranteed passage!

1.       When you email legislators, put the bill number and your position in the subject line. “HB 2020—yes!”

2.       Email the chairs of the committee in charge of the bill as well as your own reps: Sarah  Gelser and Dan Rayfield for Corvallis, Senator Denbrow and Rep. Power for the Joint Committee on Carbon Reduction. All contact info is online and easy to find.

3.       In your email, first give your personal reasons for supporting a specific aspect of the bill.  The anecdote should connect to something in the legislation. Just saying you are worried about an issue is not as compelling as saying why in a way that proves you READ THE BILL.

I want to speak specifically about the need to be clear on where investment funds will be directed in HB 2020: I grew up in the 1970s in New England. Rising oil prices, depressed economy, homes heated with oil furnaces. Minimum wage was a little over three dollars an hour; gas prices were going up to a dollar a gallon. We were working class; my mother was a hairdresser, my father worked construction, when it existed. When I went to college, my roommate and I kept the heat low, put on sweaters, did our homework in bed to save energy. Until I became a teacher, at 34, I was working class. I had enough money to live, but none to spare.  I understand the need to budget tightly. Now, as a teacher, I know I have families who decide between a warm house and food or rent.

4.       Second, refer to specific aspects of the bill that you support or want to see strengthened:

a.       Anything that threatens this delicate financial balance is terrifying. As we move forward on the absolutely essential need to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions, we must be very clear in how we are going to protect people from rising fuel and food prices, which will happen. Spelling out specific investments, using specific numbers, will allow us to alleviate some of these very real fears. Please do not allow HB 2020 to move on with the language “to the maximum extent feasible.” Set specific targets and percentages. Allow for review after five years and adjust accordingly. But, I have very real fears that this non-specific language will feather the pockets of the well-off, while leaving others struggling.

5.       Thank them for their service.

6.       Repeat as needed.

  

Specific Details for HB 2020

1.       The whole bill, plus related information, is on OLIS. You can sign up for updates on any bill you are interested in there.

2.       Corvallis Climate Action Advisory  Board stated:

·         Interim Target – HB 2020 sets an interim target at 45% below 1990 emission levels by 2035. This interim target is essential to the success of the Clean Energy Jobs Bill.

·         No Free Allowances for New Fossil Fuel Infrastructure .

·         No Additional Free Allowances for Natural Gas Utilities

·         Investment Allocations (Equity) – The 2018 version of the Clean Energy Jobs Bill included percentages to determine where investments will go, including 50% to benefit the communities that are experiencing the greatest impacts of climate change – primarily lowincome individuals, rural communities, and communities of color.

·         Citizen Governance: We believe that a provision for statewide citizen engagement in governance of the program must be added to HB 2020.

3.       The Mary’s Peak Chapter of the Sierra Club stated: In addition to supporting the CAAB recommendations for HB 2020, the Marys Peak Group requests that the City Council consider including two issues that would strengthen the bill. The first would be to eliminate the exemptions for aviation fuels and fluorinated greenhouse gases. These are major contributors to climate change, and their exemption significantly reduces our opportunity to meet the stated goals. The second addition would be to require that a seat on related advisory boards be set aside for Tribal representation.

4.       Climate Solutions stated:

1. Environmental Integrity: Must be an economy-wide program starting in 2021 therefore needs an emergency clause, a program that links regionally with a cap of at least 45% by 2035 & at least 80% by 2050.

 2. Centers Equity: There must be a clear requirement that the majority of all proceeds will go to the communities most impacted by climate change to not only mitigate impacts but more importantly provide opportunities. This should include low-income and rural communities, communities of color, at least a 10% Tribal set aside, and a just transition fund for workers.

3. Effective and Fair: All Emitters under the cap (no exemptions), oil industry cannot qualify for free allowances, no free allowances in perpetuity, fossil fuel infrastructure cannot qualify as EITE or receive free allowances. Entities who receive free allowances should use the value of those benefits for energy efficiency upgrades and not be eligible for program proceeds.

 4. Delivers Benefits: This program must deliver benefits across the state and prioritize greenhouse gas reductions and not be used for investments that increase

5. Kickstarts Comprehensive Climate Action: No climate or environmental rollbacks.

Cabbage Season

February is cabbage season. There are still leafy greens in the fields, but they are large leaves, not delicate salad mixes, soft and sweet. There are storage squashes, although they are beginning to rot and need to be checked every week. There are parsnips and beets in the garden bed, but, as the days grow longer, they will re-sprout the leafy tops and develop hard cores for seeding. Onions and potatoes are hanging in there. Canned tomatoes and green beans are a solid fall-back option, as are frozen peas and corn. But, really, late February and early March is cabbage time.

                We ate the last cabbage from the garden in early February. There would have been more—January Kings hold well in the ground—but Mr. Beezhold, our rabbit, discovered that he really likes cabbage and could jump up into the bed. He nibbled down two before I caught him and fenced them off.  So, we have been buying them at the Winter Farmer’s Market. Last week, I found the most beautiful cabbage I have even seen and took it home for dinner.  We ate the solid head in Rumpledethump by the fire; the rabbit got several deep purple leaves to munch on overnight.

                We like cabbage. I have at least four variations of cole slaw, with apples, with adobe chili, with lemon juice, as well as adding slivers to a mixed greens salad. It is good in soup. It adds bulk to a mound of sautéed veggies. It is good with peanut sauce and rice. It makes a nice gratin. Mashed with potatoes, butter, and milk, it’s a solid White Dinner. Last night, I mixed the cabbage, onions, and potatoes with cheddar cheese. We were pleased. Anything but an hours long, slow boil in a big pot – New England Boiled Dinner—is excellent.

                The garden season has begun again. I planted some kale and mustard starts in the greenhouse bed last week. There are quick start cabbages growing under lights in my classroom. Soon, we will be in salad season once more, all delicate leaves and greens. And I may miss the significant heft of a cabbage.

Rumpledethump

1.       Chop about two pounds of potatoes fairly small and boil them.

2.       Slice an onion and sautee in butter. Add a small head of cabbage, nicely sliced, salt and pepper,  and cook down.

3.       Grate about a cup and a half of cheddar cheese.

4.       Mix in a casserole dish and bake for about twenty minutes in the oven so that all of the cheese is melty.

5.       Eat by the fire in winter.

Valentine's Day, 2019

Thursday was Valentine’s Day. When I crested the stairs by my classroom, I saw the usual couple noodling at the table. Today, they were hidden behind a heart shaped balloon, a bunch of flowers, and a teddy bear. There was a batch of cupcakes in there somewhere; the guy shared them with his friends during class. Ten minutes into the day, the Spartan Candygrams began—voices singing love songs, loudly, while delivering lollypops and cards to students in class. Their voices echoed down the halls all day.

Thursday night, Mark and I went to a house concert, which started me thinking about the nature of love and how we celebrate it on this holiday. The performer was one of my old students, playing at his father’s house, for people who had, as he said, “known him while he was in diapers.” The audience was mostly older couples who had been together for years and years, who had lived in Corvallis for long periods of time, who knew each other and the other audience members, well. There were no hearts, no balloons, although there was some fine chocolate.

Listening to the music, my mind wandered to classes I’ve had—the performer was one of them—when there was a real connection between teacher and students. It’s not unusual for a class to work together well for the duration of the semester, but, occasionally, one remains close afterwards. There’s a magic in certain combinations of students, teacher, and material that lingers in our memories, leads to smiles in the hall, watching out for one another, and caring for the rest of high school and beyond. It also leads, quite often, to wild bursts of laughter in class, creative performances, and excellent writing.

The next night, Mark and I were at our local vegetarian restaurant, tucked in a corner at 8:30 at night. We’d gone to a movie, so we were closing Nearly Normal’s. A dad and son were finishing up their dinner.  After dinner, he came over to introduce himself. He had been a student at CV when I taught there fifteen years ago. I never had him, but he remembered me. He thanked me for running for city council, for representing his values in local government. “I live in Portland now,” he said, “but I still vote here. I can make a difference locally.

Valentine’s Day celebrates the specific connections we have with a romantic partner and sets up, in my mind, unrealistic expectations for long-term relationships. But, this week, I have been thinking about all the forms love may take, when we live in a place for a long time.