College Experience, Human Experience, Broad Experience

         I hope my college experience will blend smoothly with my life experience and my life experience will be better if it bleeds into my experience as a tiny, connected part of the universe. If I roll out of college and feel as purposeful, fulfilled, and complete as I do now, then I will have a great college experience. Although I have witnessed and experienced many impractical, ineffective models of education, I have had amazing experiences in my educational process. Experiential learning is a model of education that works for me. Rather than sitting in lecture halls while the sun shines outside, or interacting with a computer interface, I prefer to learn with active hands. For me, the mind and heart engage significantly more when I actively experience something than when it is told to me. For this reason, my college experience would be better if I had more hands on experience.

         I feel so fortunate to have the resources available to me at the University. This weekend I was able to go to the KSL radio recording studio to be on the "Greenhouse" show. Georgie Corkery, a fellow garden steward and I were able to daylight our mission and projects as "farmtrepreneuers". Feeling ownership of something enough to be able to speak publicly about it, to me, signifies something truly exemplary in education.

My college experience should feel like a hike in the mountains - invigorating, refreshing, exhausting, and fulfilling. And, much like reaching the trailhead at the end of the day, it should be a reward in and of itself- to be drawn on in days, weeks, months and years to follow. 

Synopsis: Sipping the Season Slowly

I sit, sipping clove green tea from a smooth black mug. I like drinking tea to reflect. There is something inherently comforting about the sensation, but also probing, pensive and exploratory. As I let a sip of the spicy, energizing substance slip down my throat, I think about self-discovery. How have I come to this point in my little existence and how has this class sculpted my experience?

"What am I doing?" I sometimes think to myself. "Why am I spending so much time working on this problem?" At times, I feel a deep inner turmoil, a feeling of inadequacy that lingers like eating fresh raspberries and biting into a Hemiptera bug. Or being aware that a friend is in need of help. Or sweltering in anomalously high temperatures that you know will only increase from here. 

What I have realized in this class however, is that turmoil is a good thing. It shows that there is something that needs to be solved. As the problems of the world rage, we cannot continue to blindly work under the systems that are already in place. If there is inner turmoil, there is a reason to change, because that intuition is a reflection of an external reality. This class gives structure to recognize where internal conflict exists and provides the tools to make external adjustments. I have realized that my work needs to go deeper. When I feel those lingering feelings of dissatisfaction, I need a way to innovate something new. There is a fine balance to be struck between intuition and innovation. As we navigate the structures in place, we can patiently find solace in a cup of green tea and work out the inconsistencies one inch at a time. 

More biking, more food forests, more edible landscaping and more rabbits!

I am relaxing after a bike ride to the top of City Creek Canyon this morning. The sun streams through the window and the smell of burnt artichoke permeates the air around me. I forgot about the artichokes because I was on the phone with Ray Wheeler, a city planner interested in greening the Jordan River Parkway corridor. Almost 200 acres of golf courses in the Glendale area are slated to transform into something else this year. It is up to us, up to now, to determine what happens to them. Ray got in touch with me through Ashley Patterson of Wasatch Community Gardens and my landlord, Hans Ehrbar. Ray is interested in food forestry and rewilding river systems. I do not blame him. Getting involved in a project this large (25 acres of restored wetland, community gardens, and food forests all accessible along the Jordan River Parkway) is an incredible opportunity. There is little that excites me more than the prospect of Salt Lake City developing its own public food forest, much like Seattle's Beacon Food Forest. There are small precedents throughout the city, such as the Day-Riverside Library eco-garden and the Green Urban Lunchbox, but nothing on the scale of what Ray is proposing. 

When I think about this project, it makes me feel excited. I want to get the message out and get plants in the ground. I think that starting out by filling the garden planters with edibles at the Sustainability Resource Center will allow a degree of familiarity that will be followed by the installation of a planter box. For the time being, I think that I will apply for just enough funding to buy a few bags of compost and the appropriate species for the space. 

In other news, Cumin the mama rabbit had her first litter of baby bunnies! Born this afternoon while we were on the mountain. For now, they are pink nubs buried in Cumin's plucked fur. But in the weeks to come, they will develop into furry cuddlers!

Passover with a lunar eclipse Easter Sunday

No matter the season, gardens are always ripe with life lessons and philosophical food for thought. As Spring pops out of every crevice and sprouts in the sunshine, amazing things happen. Greens thrive, garlic matures, and seeds germinate. Reseeded parsley sprouts from the garden paths, having escaped from the confines of the box beds. With Passover upon us, parsley hearkens to the bitter herb dipped in salt water - the bitterness of slavery and the tears shed thereafter. But it's not the parsley that brings tears to my eyes. Bindweed is a noxious weed. Roots dormant throughout winter are coming back to life and faster than you can shake a digging tool, the delicate green leaves consume pathways and garden beds. Keeping on top of bindweed is a Sisyphean task.  

 Sometimes I need help pulling bindweed. I often have to remind myself that I am not responsible for pulling all the bindweed, for bringing an end to war, climate change, homophobia, and indigenous degradation. Projects are supported by communities and everybody carries the burden of bitterness and feelings of powerlessness. But it is through that knowledge of adversity that we are inspired to make change, to pull bindweed together, to eat saltwater-drenched parsley in communion, and to know that we can ask for help when we need it.  

                                          

Growing Spring Thoughts

I would love to extract the clarity of my thought processes and ideas and put them in a format that people could understand, use, and participate in. Skills are simply methods of expressing these ideas and mastering skills means expert, succinct expression of these ideas. I aspire to manifest my ideals of self-sufficiency and environmental and social justice through this project, applicable even on the small scale. 

I strive for a basic sense of connectedness, justice, and satisfaction that comes from being close to the food source. I believe that understanding nature creates a deep sense of ingenuity, and proactivity. If you can remember that food comes from soil, water and sunshine, you have limitless power to transform. If it means breaking up asphalt to access the soils underneath or rerouting rain gutters to nourish an herb garden, then so be it. No matter the neighborhood you grew up in or education you received, there is hope in garlic sprouting out of the straw mulch and peach blossoms in the sunshine. Having the power to change systems and make them grow food would

here is hope in garlic sprouting out of the straw mulch and peach blossoms in the sunshine.

Refreshed Perspective

            I feel a flood of tingly gratitude for the wealth of adventures I was showered with last week. I feel rejuvenated with fresh perspective and brightly alive with realized potential. I traveled throughout the Pacific Northwest, staying with old friends and making new ones. I found myself constantly in awe of the emotions conjured by being in old places seen with new eyes. I found myself beyond delighted to be with companions, and even more tickled at the luxury of alone time to assess, sift, and explore myself. I will share a few snapshots and let your imagination take the rest:



         Beacon Food Forest is located on Beacon Hill in South Seattle. It is a public park managed by the people of Seattle. All of the plants in the park are edible public domain. There are monthly Saturday work parties which usually host upwards of 150 volunteers. Fruit trees, berry bushes, perennial edible greens and herbs, and even edible fungi are cultivated in this urban city park for anybody to indulge! I found myself spreading bark mulch, pruning, and turning compost in exchange for aromatic bunches of sorrel, oregano, kale, spinach, mint, and collard greens. If that's not an inspiration for the edible landscaping at the University of Utah, then I don't know what is!

      Plants are a source of light. Even though a thick layer of cloud cover usually graces the Olympic Peninsula, there is a sense of light everywhere where the moss can sprout and the trees can send down roots. It seems to me that the light that emanates from plants creates a subtly healing environment, whether you are aware of it or not. I had the opportunity to stay in our family's shared beach cabin on the Quinalt Reservation close to the Hoh Rainforest. The smell of ocean salt, fir tree bark, rich soils, and sweet green vegetation fill the air. The steady breath of the ocean creates a whispering undertone to all things said, thought, and witnessed here.

    As I progress into my next steps for the edible landscaping project, I feel ready. I feel animated and inspired to integrate the urban environment with the healing properties of nature. And that is the very essence of this project. I met with facilities yesterday. They agreed to take on the irrigation for the edible landscaping plot because it melds nicely with another of their projects. Facilities is highly efficient, controlled and precise. Grounds folks get things done. Working with them has given me huge insight into how these systems function. It makes the vision of a perennial edible landscape shimmer into perspective in a way that I do not necessarily see at the level of my normal academic projects. Compost, a few dozen plants, and a steel planter box, all tucked in with irrigation becomes a simple process, achievable and exciting. 

Sustaining though Design

is a film about good design and how it can manifest change.
As I was designing the edible landscaping plot outside of the Sustainability Resource Center, I was thinking about design. Gardens are inherently mutable. They are growing, alive. They need attention. In this way, there is something to be said for designing a water-wise garden with few inputs such as fertilizer, insecticide, herbicide, and heavy water use. However, even the most hands-off design needs maintenance. Such is the nature of domestication. As I was setting up meetings with staff at the Sustainability Resource Center, I was thinking about it as product designing. A garden is a highly social product, just as malleable as it is physical form. Gardens need attention and care. Even if  that care is minimal: in this case, harvest and pruning.

This is what the landscape would look like without human intervention: sagebrush and sand. I have boiled it down to this: in order to have an aesthetic, intentional landscape used by the campus community, I am trying to design the smallest amount of necessary input in order to achieve the highest and best outcome. Like a native ecosystem, this plot should exemplify self-sufficiency and low water use. However, in order to make the best use of an important, currently unused, public space, implementing some maintenance is acceptable in return for exemplary food security.