Guerrilla Garden

{Those are not my legs with the goofy rolled-up trousers}

 

I’ve built my first Guerrilla Garden. It’s an idea I’ve been meaning to act on for some time, but I’ve finally found the space and motivation to do it. I’ve cleared about a six-by-six plot in the big open lot in between my apartment complex and the road, built rickety wooden structures for plants to climb, and planted beans and squash (and one epic sunflower). I also buried a 3-liter soda bottle with holes punched around the sides to slowly seep water deep down into the soil. Now that I’ve got the trellises up and the plants in the ground, it actually looks like a real garden, instead of just a squared-off patch of dirt.

My brother asked me the other night, somewhat exasperatedly, why I’m doing it; why am I putting so much work and sweat into a project that could be bulldozed tomorrow. It really could, too. I’ve already had one space that I’d cleared for a garden destroyed when they came to haul away the giant wood piles that previously stood behind our building (sadly, replacing the forest that stood there before that). There’s no telling when or if they’ll be back again, to begin some sort of construction or pave it for a parking lot or who-knows-what-else. Even if they don’t come, and the lot remains empty, I’m only going to be living in this particular spot for another six months or so. Some of my plants are transportable and can come with me; but there’s no way to move my guerrilla garden.

It doesn’t matter, though. There’s sixteen units in each building, and two or three buildings with a good view of the open lot; not to mention all the cars that drive by when using the back entrance gate. If even one or a few of those people might gaze out the window (might unglue their eyes from their screens; perhaps during a commercial) and see me working and digging in the dirt and planting seedlings and become curious, even interested, then it would have been worth it. Even better, if one of those people should think to themselves, ‘You know, that’s a pretty good idea; I should grow something of my own,” then I shall have had a victory. Even better still, if one of those people were gregarious enough to come out and join me, take up a shovel or a rake, and start digging their own garden; why that would be the greatest reward of all. Vegetables and Greens, fine; Community and Action, better.

The Ocean, Vast and Wide…

As a tree-person, I have never had as great an appreciation or understanding for the realms, aqueous as I have for forests. Things that lurk in the water are ever alien and strange, and even somewhat sinister, to me no matter how many times I see them. The oceans are vast beyond comprehension, and distances take on entirely new meanings. The deepest point in the Ocean is the Marianas Trench, seven miles deep; only two people have ever been there. A span of seven miles across a field or through a forest is almost inconsequential, a stroll of a couple of hours at even the most leisurely pace. In the ocean, though, it is a distance almost incomprehensible.

Since we first began exploring the oceans they were teeming with life, so abundant as to seem endless. Even today, the vast majority of the Ocean’s depths remains unexplored; and the parts we are familiar with we know next-to-nothing about. The Ocean has always seemed impenetrable, eternal; impossible to think we insignificant humans could ever have an altering effect on it’s workings. How easy it is to forget the power of the Swarm.

As with other areas of ecologic impact, we have seriously underestimated our capacity for effecting ecosystems. Our ability to damage and alter biospheres is well-documented through history, back to the leveling of the great cedar forests of Iraq (that’s right); but this is the first time in history that our effect is of potentially global magntitude. Human activity and resource extraction covers every corner of the map; there aren’t any more refuges to migrate to when the land turns fallow, allowing to respite in which it might regenerate. We’ve only just begun to understand the impact we’re having on our global climate, soil, fresh water; and we have not yet even scratched the surface of what we’re doing to the oceans.

How We Wrecked the Oceans

We’ve gone way, way too far. We’ve fished the mightiest species to near extinction, and we’re irradiating the remainders.

The Ocean is home to about 97% of all Life on Earth; maybe even the Universe. The pillaging of our oceans and the lack of care with which it is done is one of the great ecological tragedies of our Age.

30 Facts About The Coming Water Crisis That Will Change The Lives Of Every Person On The Planet

Read this. Let it…. soak in.

30 Facts About The Coming Water Crisis That Will Change The Lives Of Every Person On The Planet.

Community Service

Community Service

Today I planted seeds. I went and volunteered at Johnson’s Backyard Garden again this morning, and was this time directed to the greenhouses. I couldn’t have been more thrilled, having heard about greenhouse-duty on my previous visit. They told me that most people tried to avoid the monotony of seeding hundreds of trays for hours at a time in a balmy greenhouse, but I was secretly hoping I’d be sent out there.

I slid back the large door to the greenhouse and was greeted by the sounds of classical music, floating up from the back of the building. Or perhaps it was the front, and I came in through the back – there were large sliding double-doors at either end, wide enough to pass hand carts through; and up the center ran a pathway, on either side of which were rows and rows of seedlings at various stages of germination. I had to stop for a moment and absorb it all: the scents, the sudden change in humidity and temperature, the music that came wafting up from the recesses of the place…

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Usually when you hear or think of “community service” in our society it’s in the punitive sense. It’s something that people are made to do as recompense for some crime or transgression against the community. Misdemeanor offenders are given the option either to pay a fine or do community service to square their balance sheet with the Law; and since it’s only a small subsection of the population that are trained to think of terms of Opportunity Cost (or, more probably, most of the people who are presented with this option don’t make enough money for their time to have to consider that equation), most people are more comfortable with giving up their time versus their money.

This has a double negative effect. Firstly, by and large, the only people doing community service are people who have gotten busted for something and are more likely to be of a less-than-savory nature. Secondly, it reinforces the idea to society-at-large that community service is something you only do when you’re made to, or when you’ve gotten in trouble for something.

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The small of my back was beginning to ache in earnest, and I was having trouble keeping my eyes in focus. When you perform a single monotonous task involving one or a small set of objects, the shapes and patterns stop making sense; like when you write a word over and over and first it starts to look as though it’s spelled wrong, then it ceases to look like it’s even comprised of letters. The black lines dividing each cell of the planter trays became harder to see, seemed to take on the same color as the loamy soil filling each cell. The seeds began to blend together until they were no longer individual units, but a kind of particulate soup, homogeneous and inseparable.

I didn’t want to stop, though; I wanted to see how many trays I could fill. Not least of all because I wanted to outstrip the older woman sitting across from me (we young men have reputations to uphold, after all); but just for the sheer purpose of it. I wanted as many plants as possible to have my hands as the ones that started their life.

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I’ve been in plenty of trouble, to be sure; but I’ve never been assigned community service. It’s always just been fines; I don’t think they even gave me the elective of doing community service (probably because I’d have done it, and the State is hard-up for cash). Every time I’d heard of somebody being assigned to do it, it was always something menial or trivial or even downright pointless – painting a sidewalk, or working as an hourly ‘volunteer’ at Goodwill, or something equally lacking in relevance. That’s probably one of the downsides to being told to do community service: you’re also told what it is that you have to do.

This, though, was something real. My first real Service to my Community, in that truest sense of the phrase. Of the thousands of seeds that I planted that day, the vast majority would sprout and grow; and of those sprouts, a very large proportion would then go on to produce a crop that could each feed dozens or more people. The seeds I planted will go on, with much love and care and attention from a cadre of others, to feed hundreds or even thousands of people. I will probably even end up buying some of it back at a farmers’ market, at some point.

That must be sort of what it feels like to be a farmer – that knowledge held in the back of your mind that the hours of labor and days of worry and months of patience all go to serve the highest purpose: being a source of sustenance (in this case literal, but there are many kinds of sustenance) to your community. I’ve never really had that feeling until I went and did this. I think that’s a feeling one could build a life around maintaining…

CISPA…. We Meet Again…

(via @57UN)

It’s called the Cyber Intelligence Sharing and Protection Act, or CISPA (siss-PAH!; you have to shout the last syllable). The far-reaching and vaguely-worded cyberintelligence-sharing bill that passed the House just last year, but was not taken up by the Senate due to the threat of a veto (and the clamorous upheaval of t3h Int3rn3tz) is threatening to cast it’s gloomy shadow over our legislature once more.

Unimpeded by such paltry concerns as ‘constituent demand’ or ‘voter outrage’, the likes of Rep. Dutch Ruppersberger (D-Md.) and Chairman Mike Rogers (R-Mich.) are resurrecting the bill from it’s mouldering tomb and re-introducing it, possibly as early as next week.

For those who don’t recall, a quote to refresh your memory that CISPA….

“…would allow for the sharing of Internet traffic information between the U.S. government and certain technology and manufacturing companies. The stated aim of the bill is to help the U.S government investigate cyber threats and ensure the security of networks against cyberattack.”

Allow me a moment to explain the gravity of ‘greater information sharing’ between private companies and the State. Have you ever filled out a job application? If you have, it is likely that it carried a logo from a company like Acxiom, or ChoicePoint or LexisNexis. Odds are also good that you’re aware of the vast amounts of information stored by companies like Google. It is undoubtedly unsettling, the amount of information that these companies hold about us: financial records, medical history, employment history, browsing habits, communications, and so on. Knowledge is Power, and I don’t really believe any one entity should have so much of either; but here’s the key point: These companies are bound by law, and do NOT have the power of police enforcement. There are legal barriers that prevent these companies handing out your personal data without extreme extenuating circumstances.

CISPA abolishes that barrier. It allows the State free access to these treasure-troves of private information and meta-data.

This may not mean a whole lot to those of you who, when faced with encroachments upon your privacy or civil liberties, cry ‘I’ve done nothing wrong! I don’t have any secrets; why should I be afraid?” I answer with the words of Thomas Drake, former analyst for the NSA: ‘In a secret surveillance state, you don’t get to decide what’s wrong, or what’s secret – the government does.’ What you think is an innocent and/or legal act (and may well be… now) might make you a ‘person of interest’ in a year’s time.

You don’t even necessarily have to be doing anything wrong. If you torture Data enough, it will tell you anything. ‘Data divorced from context has no meaning’; if you lose the context, you get to invent the meaning.

I can’t even begin to relay how important it is that we stand up and fight for our civil liberties and rights to privacy. These are the sorts of things that, once we allow them to be taken away, we are almost never given them back.

Take a moment to contact and harangue your nearest member of the House Intelligence Committee:

http://cispaisback.com/

Garden, Reborn! (In Containers)

I’m living in an apartment, now; but I’ll be damned if that’s going to stop me having a garden.

I’ve got Green Arrow peas hanging in burlap coffee bags; I’m hoping they’ll decide to climb up the cords that are holding them up.

I’ve got an assortment of Asian greens growing in a hydroponic drip/deepwater system that I built, as well as some Wasabi Arugula..  Kale is waiting to be transplanted into the garden boxes I’m preparing to build, as are the clumps of onions in the bottom right.

Bottom to Top: Larkspur, Dianthus, wimpy Kale, freaky black Habanero, Oregano, Rosemary and Curry.  There’s also some Nasturtium hiding in between.

There’s a lot more on the way — Basil, Peppers, Cucumbers, Tomatoes, Marigolds.. a pug.

Everything is going to be moved around between the spots I’ve got picked out to grow in.  I’m going to experiment with companion planting and am working out a design for the various zones.  I’ll likely post that once I get it finalized and gussied up a bit.

This is probably my most ambitious container garden to date; what you see here is only the tip of the iceberg…

An End and a Beginning

And thus I finish a journal, six years in the filling, to start a new project…