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salud

Last fall we visited with great grandmother Ann in southeastern Minnesota.  She had been diagnosed with a rare form of a rare disease and had traveled from South Carolina to the Mayo Clinic for specialized treatment.  Just outside the window of her suite stood a full and vibrant ginkgo tree.  Eastern lore tells of this tree as a symbol of strength and longevity, a bearer of hope.  A fitting symbol, indeed.  I picked a leaf and tucked it in my book. 

Back home I made an impression of the leaf, and tucked it into another book.  When I cooked up the latest gocco swap, I knew I'd use the image. 

I paired the leaf with one word:  salud.  One word with many meanings:  to health and bless you and also cheers!

Since gocco supplies are in short supply I burned a flurry of leaves on the screen, but only used one in the printing.  The others will surely show up here and there in the future.

I printed notecards on recycled paper and paired them up with kraft paper envelopes.  Scraps of blue paper wrapped up sets of notecards, and more scraps of a lighter blue paper were turned into stickers to hold the bundles together.  They hit the mail today.

And so, a blessing to the longevity of the memory of great grandmother Ann.

one local summer :: week two

How do you define local?  One Local Summer defines local as from within 100 miles.  Our local food co-op stretches their definition to 300 miles, encompassing the wheat fields of the Dakotas and the dairy barns of Wisconsin.  I look at my pantry and I see the remaining few quarts of the tomatoes I put by last year - these were purchased directly from a farmer with whom I spoke for a half hour about her farm, her flock of sheep and how the growing season had unfolded for her and her plants.  But the tomatoes were grown over 225 miles from my home and purchased while I was visiting another part of the state.  Local?

And what about sustainably grown and conventional?  There's a greenhouse located within ten miles that pumps out peppers and tomatoes year round, but I don't typically purchase these vegetables because they're conventionally grown.  I do purchase the organic ones from Mexico with regularity.  Lesser of two evils?  Or not?

And what about packaging?  I can buy Minnesota grown portabella mushrooms from my food co-op that are packaged in a plastic-wrapped fiberboard carton, or I can purchase the bulk ones that are grown in Pennsylvania.  The fungi from the other state seems like the better choice, but is it really?

Clearly this week's One Local Summer meal (which I packed and ate for lunch through the week) has me thinking about the complexity of food systems and eating local.  I made chard, garlic greens and feta quiche with a whole wheat pastry crust and served it with mixed greens.  Mixed greens grown by my family, right here.  Eggs, butter, milk, chard and garlic greens from within 75 miles.  Cheese from a farmer's co-op based 250 miles away. Wheat grown within 300 miles, but ground into flour within 200 miles.  All local by someone's definition, which will have to do until I figure out one that makes most sense to me.  I'd love to hear if/how you struggle with the local food quandry.

the edge

We went into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness this week.  I was immediately reminded just how unbounded the wilderness can be.  We paddled downstream along the Little Isabella River, to the Isabella River and then portaged to Quadga Lake, which we had to ourselves.  Our campsite was on a point with split rock ledges.  From the site you could watch the moon rise and the sun set at once.  It was pristine.

Being spring in northern Minnesota, we prepared for all weather, packing hats and mittens, rain gear, boots and sandals.  We thought we'd beat the mosquitoes, but brought the ridiculous-looking head nets anyway.

We experienced beauty.  Layers of evergreen and spring greens pulling up from the horizon and reflecting back.  The constantly changing sky.  Sunsets.  Moon rises.  Loon calls from across the cove, snowshoe hares thumping through the campsite. 

And we experienced all sorts of stresses.  Mosquitoes, howling wind, rain, cold, dampness, thunder and lightning.  Shortages of cooking fuel and bug repellent.  Rubber boots filled with water while pushing the canoe off a pile of rocks.  Misjudged portages.  Had it been just me and J, there surely would have been a lot more swearing.  In the end we cut the trip short by a day, as we realized we definitely needed a break from our break.

But I'm glad we went, and while I felt pushed to the edge in ways I haven't in a long while, I consider the trip a success.  She didn't want to come home, and is already talking about our next trip.

one local summer :: week one

Tonight we kicked off One Local Summer with a dinner of grilled rib eye steaks, wild rice and mixed greens wth pickled beets and maple vineagrette with garlic greens.

The steaks were from a quarter cow we purchased in the late fall from Brown's Shorthorns.  The rice was harvested by members of the Fond du Lac band of the Chippewa tribe in nearby lakes.  The greens were grown in our community garden, harvested this afternoon, and topped with pickled beets we canned in the fall and a northwoods maple vineagrette dressing with minced garlic greens grown at a nearby farm and purchased at our local food co-op.  It was all washed down with a rye porter made of some non-local ingredients, but brewed in our kitchen.

My girl likes to say "thank you earth for the food" before dinner each night.  Tonight we also thanked the nearby fields and lakes, the seeds we planted last month and the local food we procured and put up last season.  More on One Local Summer can be found here.

local flavors

We tasted summer this weekend.  On Saturday we traveled to La Finca, our CSA farm, for their spring pancake and planting celebration.  I'm amazed at how much will happen there in the coming weeks.  Some of the fields were planted, many of the beds covered with a thin orange fabric that keeps small plants warm and reminds me of the saffron robes of monks.

The greenhouse was loaded with starts awaiting transplant.  The planting of squash was planned for the visitors, but a frost advisory kept the tender plants in the greenhouse for at least another night and kept the dirt out from under my nails.

On the way home we passed by Brown's Shorthorns, the farm from which we've purchased all of the beef we've eaten in the past two years.  We met Edgar, the timeless midwestern cowboy, on the road and stopped to talk about the animals he was finishing in the coming months.  He mentioned a  twin who didn't get her "fair share of the groceries" from the start and was therefore petite by shorthorn standards, and would offered at a discount to someone looking primarily for ground beef.  I like knowing the people who are growing and raising my food, and too hearing the stories behind the bringing of food to our table.

We returned home in time to cover the tomatoes in the community garden plot and harvest more of the frost-hardy greens.  We dug one of Edgar's roasts out of the freezer, sliced it up, marinated it in some siracha, sesame oil and sugar and put it in the dehydrator to make beef jerky for our upcoming canoe camping trip.  

I made a rhubarb pie using pink stalks grown in Wisconsin and sold at our local food co-op.

And, I signed us up for One Local Summer this year.  We'll be eating at least one meal each week that is made from local ingredients, and will be sharing it here and with other challenge participants.  I look forward to savoring the season.  The weekend tells me we're ready.

here and there

Here the plum trees are flowering. 

There the sun reflects just so between the buildings.

In between we rode bicycles, hiked a peak, explored a valley, splashed rocks, ate angry trout, harvested spring greens, flew a kite and simply enjoyed the long weekend together.

Elsewhere I've begun a new endeavor.  This year and next my work is leading me to the acquisition and rehab of over thirty houses, all of which are blighted and vacant, many of which are foreclosed.  I am haunted by these empty houses, broken down and beaten.  And too, haunted by the evidence of the families who made these houses home.  Every surface shows that which was lived, that which was lost.  Some images and thoughts from this part of my work have popped up here, and also in my 365 photo project; but I've come to realize that they need a place of their own. 

And so, reclamation has begun.  It's a quiet place where I'll reflect on the intersection of the foreclosure crisis and my sustainable and affordable housing development work.  I hope you'll stop by.

to market

The scene today was typical.  The pre-grocery shopping gathering up of recipes for the week, ingredient lists, jars for filling, egg cartons and milk jugs for returning, canvas bags for carrying.

The grocery shopping was a bit atypical though.  I was alone.  There was no bribery, no peeling of floppy toddlers off the floor, no talking with the little one about each and every thing going into the cart.  It was efficient.

So was the rest of the day.  I had it to myself with very few obligations.  This is rare.  So much so that I can't remember the last time I had eight daylight hours in a row to myself, for myself.  I sat in the sun and finished reading a book.  I sewed.  I roasted eggplant and made baba ganoush.  I listened to Liz Gilbert, to Ira Glass.  I listened to the birds.  I walked by the lake.  I puttered about catching up on not doing anything in particular.  I can't think of a better way to have started the long weekend.

The bag is my newly sewn market bag.  The inspiration came from the burda style charlie bag.  The pinstriped canvas and green linen from this fabric shopping adventure.  I like it so much that my sewing today was the piecing of another -- this time a greyish denim lined with yellow and white baby seersucker.  Photos of that one soon.

Quick reminder - the gocco swap sign up deadline is Tuesday!  It's shaping up to be another good one... 

from seed

I snipped young green chives from the small herb garden outside the kitchen door last night and sprinkled them over a salad of tender baby arugula from a nearby farm.  The first taste of fresh and local for the season.

Around the block the spring greens we planted in the community garden are pushing up.  Mizuna, arugula, tat soi and a mix of baby lettuces.

Here at the beginning of our growing season, I look forward.  To growing more of our own - greens, cucumbers, tomatoes, herbs.  To procuring more directly from area farm families - vegetables, fruits, eggs, beef, chicken, lake trout.  To gathering from the woods - mushrooms, ramps, berries. 

Here at the beginning of the growing season, I also look back.  To the near empty shelves of last year's preserving efforts.  To last year's harvest and the work that went into it.  

I'm looking back this week too, because a photo I made at a harvest celebration last fall is featured in the upcoming issue of YES! Magazine.  It's an honor to have my image selected for inclusion in this excellent publication, and too to have our beloved CSA farm featured in this way.

inside and out : spring weekend

Inside, we stenciled shirts.  Poured, sipped and poured some more tea.

Outside we hiked, skipped, and watched the unfurling of the season.

one : gocco swap

Last weekend I walked along the Mississippi River under majestic cottonwood trees.  Their branches were dappled with soft green leaves just starting to bud out.  The ground beneath my feet was blanketed by the crunching skeletal remains of last season's leaves.  I couldn't not think of the cottonwood leaf I picked up from the banks of that river almost four years ago which became one of my first gocco prints. 

Of course it got me thinking of printing.  And hosting yet another swap.  I'm resisting that deeply entrenched habit I have to over-think everything, and am instead jumping right in.  So, won't you join me for another gocco swap?

The only parameter I'm tossing out for the swap is one.  One image.  One word.  One screen (they are so very precious now, after all).  Feel free to take it wherever you want from there.  Print a single print, a small set of notecards, bookplates, stamps, stickers, a notebook, a fabric printed something-or-other, or anything else that suits your gocco fancy.  Send one of your creations out to each of your swapmates (you'll be swapping with 10-12 folks from around the world).  Receive a gocco-ed creation from each of your swapmates.

The swap is open to anyone, anywhere with a blog and/or flickr account and access to a gocco screen printer.

The sign-up deadline is May 26th.  Sign up by sending me an email at clothpaperstring AT gmail DOT com with the subject Gocco Swap - be sure to include your name, mailing address and a link to your blog and/or Flickr account.   I'll send out your list of swapmates later that week (you'll have 10-12 who you'll be committing to sending your gocco-ed bits out to).

The swap is open to anyone, anywhere with a blog and/or flickr account and access to a gocco printer.

Mail your gocco'd bits to swapmates on or before June 19th.  Don't forget to take photos of your creations and post them to the one : gocco swap flickr group. 

And, feel free to spread the word.  You can cut and paste the HTML in the box to add a button to your blog or sidebar:   

<a href="http://clothpaperstring.typepad.com/clothpaperstring/2009/05/one-gocco-swap.html"><img src="http://clothpaperstring.typepad.com/clothpaperstring/onegocco.jpg" border="0"/></a>

Happy gocco-ing!

And, if you're scratching your head, wondering what all this gocco-business is about, you can see examples here, learn more here and get in on discussions about it here.