Waiting for the first herbs

When the fragile light first glides,

whispering across the land,

the cold sunlight of March,

Image by Arie Farnam

as sleet still stings like sand,

I walk in the bare woods,

before the first buds awake.

Tiny rosettes of nettle nestle

amid the leaves I rake.

In the garden little pokes

above the still cold dirt

but tiny chickweed leaves

to heal some small hurt.

Still the tops of most herbs

stand dry and winter browned,

waiting past the last April snow

safe beneath the ground.

Then coltsfoot and lungwort,

brave and hearty those two,

raise their faces to the sun

pale yellow and purple blue

Rosemary and lavender,

as your leaves slowly green,

beware the last blast of winter

that we have not yet seen.

I’m waiting for the leaves

to wave green flags of spring

I’m waiting for the flowers

and breath to rise and sing.

The world needs more poetry these days. I may not be able to do all the things I have wished to. But I heard that we now have a local chapter of Extinction Rebellion. My post is short because I’m off to check out their website and sign up to do my bit on the home front.

What gardening, hugging and playing music have in common and why they are radical

Sixteen years ago, I was trapped in a war zone for five days with two people--one stranger and one colleague. We survived sniper-lined roads, a paramilitary ambush, hunger, cold and fear. Just as an escape route opened up, our jeep broke down. 

Five days before we had been a reporter, a photographer and a hired interpreter. We had just met the interpreter--Hisen, a Romani refugee from Kosovo. But after five days of surviving on our wits, we had the kind of bond that forms in military combat units. To the accompaniment of automatic gunfire in the night, HIsen fixed the fan belt with a piece of string and we drove the last couple of miles through dangerous territory. The jeep died just as we cleared the worst area, so we were able to find a terrified taxi-driver who gave us a lift to the border. 

Creative Commons image by  Joe Frazier

I still have a corny nylon rose that Hisen gave me. It sits in the place of honor above my desk, though I haven't seen him in person for more than a decade.

A few days ago, one of his on-line messages reached me.

I have always known his life was hard. I knew about how, before we met, he was chased out of his village at gunpoint and his fiance was killed by an ethnic-cleansing mob. I saw the terrible, squalid refugee camp he lived in for years. And he sent pictures when he was finally able to return home and move into a little house. But in all those years he never asked for help. 

But now he has.

He now has a wife and three kids ages 15, 13 and 9. He has worked hard over the past sixteen years to make a life for them and he succeeded in that they had a home, food, clothing and school supplies. Not much by western standards, but enough. 

Then three weeks ago, robbers broke into Hisen's small house and ransacked it, taking everything of any value, including clothing, cooking utensils and school supplies. It's a poor country and "any value" is a different concept there. The corrupt local police still consider Hisen's family to be part of an unwelcome racial minority. That's what the war all those years ago was about after all. And they won't help.

So finally, he asked me for help. And I would send him a chunk of my savings. I would start a GoFundMe campaign. That's the kind of bond this is. I would walk a hundred miles for this man who stood by me through hell and knee-deep mud. 

But guess what? GoFundMe will not allow you to raise money for someone in Kosovo. Neither will any of the similar fundraising engines. Even PayPal will not send my savings to Hisen. You are not allowed to use PayPal in Kosovo. 

There is a borderline you see. Those who did not stand in the mud and the freezing rain with us think there is big difference between Hisen and me, a difference meriting a big fat line to keep us from helping each other. An international bank transfer would cost most of what I could afford to send or manage to fundraise. 

This is one of the lines THEY draw between us. It is not so different from the line they draw between Texas and Puerto Rico when it comes to disaster relief. It is the same line they want to draw between white and black in city streets in America and the line they want to draw between Muslim and Christian. 

Also this week, I tried to buy the mechanical doll my child is asking Santa Claus for. Amazon's new European hub is less than 20 miles from our house and that doll is no doubt sitting on a shelf at that hub. But the doll cannot be purchased in the Czech Republic. We have no Amazon. Amazon is happy to allow Czechs to work like frantic robots in their giant warehouse, but they don't want us getting our grubby little fingers on the goodies--like talking dolls--meant for the "real people" in the west. 

The standard trick has been to set up an Amazon account in Germany or Britain. I have both and at times in the past that has worked for some items we needed. But now the UK sellers won't even put a package in the mail to the Czech Republic, international visa card or no. And German Amazon demanded $150 in postage and handling just to send the $35 doll a few hundred miles across the border to me.

Wait. Except that the doll isn't physically in Germany. It's at the Amazon warehouse from which all Amazon.de shipments come and that warehouse is only 20 miles from me.

That's it. The borderline again. Not so much a physical line but a line between people--the worthy and the unworthy, those inside and those outside.

There is even a line between the wealthy west and the modestly well-off in Central Europe. There is another line between us and the marginalized and poor elsewhere. All around there are lines meant to divide us.

Here are the kinds of things they want you to recognize as divisions:

• Borders on a map
• Skin color
• Language spoken
• Citizenship
• Ability and disability
• Physical attributes and body shape
• Sexual orientation
• Gender

Take a good look at that, Can you play the old Sesame Street game and figure out what these things have in common?

That's right. They're all things none of us can do anything about. Largely we were born that way or ended up that way without a choice. I'll tell you another thing that these things have in common. They harm no one. Yup, even sexual orientation. It may offend your religious doctrine, but it doesn't actually harm you or anyone else. It just is. 

But you're already wondering why I use the word "they," if I am so against division. Aren't I just as guilty of "us versus them" thinking? 

True enough. That's precisely what THEY want you to say. Because if they can't get you to hate and divide yourself from your allies based on the above list, then there are some things they definitely DO NOT want you thinking of as dividing lines. 

We are not allowed to draw lines between us and people who:

• Own far more than they need for a comfortable life
• Waste resources on things that are not just luxuries but extravagances
• Support unlimited proliferation of guns and other weapons
• Display symbols of hate, violence, slavery and oppression
• Hate and proliferate hate of others based on things on the other list
• Make decisions affecting other people based on how much profit it will gain them

Play the Sesame Street game again. How is this list different? What do these things have in common, other than the fact that we are NOT allowed to divide people along these lines in modern society?

They are all choices a person can make. None of these depend on how you were born. Sure, you might have been born wealthy and privileged. I know people who were born with great privilege, who do not do these things. You don't have to procure your own personal indoor swimming pool in your home or paint your ceiling with gold paint or even get that new iPhone X when your iPhone 7 is in perfectly good shape and does everything you need it to. 

Being wealthy or poor may not be a choice but what you do with it is. 

I'm not saying all wealthy people must give all their wealth to the poor, though some do and thus have a legacy worth remembering. Put your money toward solar panels for your community or a documentary on something you care about or even "selfishly" supporting the artists and musicians you love so you can enjoy their work. But do something meaningful with it, beyond just amassing more wealth for you and your descendants. 

"You can't tell me how to spend my money!" I've heard that one before. 

Nope, I can't tell you how to spend your money. But I can draw this line in the sand. I will divide people on what matters. These are choices. And even more importantly, they are all choices that do harm to others. 

Whenever I hear rhetoric today, I look at these two lists and ask myself which dividing line in the first list the rhetoric is trying to draw or which line in the second list it is trying to erase. That's how you can tell the good guys from the bad guys today.  And yes, I'm one of those people. I believe there are good guys and bad guys. 

It may not be pure good or pure bad. But we put ourselves in those categories by the choices we make.

By en large, it is corporations and their minions which are doing the greatest harm today and choosing to knowingly continue to cause harm. These are the choices against which I draw the line.

Still, if we focus on those making harmful choices--the bad guys if you wish--we fall into their traps. The only way to win is to draw our own lines of protection and focus on mutual support, be kind and open to one another. Remember to be wary of divides manufactured based on things people cannot change about themselves. 

And it is good to focus as much as we can on those things that corporations cannot divide, such as:

Sunlight and other natural forces - corporations don't like solar and wind power because they can't parcel out and monetize sunlight. Even if it didn't have the potential to save us from catastrophic climate change, that would be enough of a reason to focus on sunlight and its many uses.

Gardening - Anywhere, even in the most bleak circumstances, if there is sunlight, dirt and water, you can grow something. It may not be much and it may not grow perfectly. But it will grow. There have been many attempts by corporations to monetize all gardening and agriculture, but the basic laws of life are still in force. 

The joy of learning - I love that moment when I meet a person from a new culture, a culture I don't know too much about. I especially love it if we don't speak one another's language too well. Yes, I do. I rarely find it awkward. It is like opening up a crisp, new book just out of the crate from the printer. It has that new adventure and new knowledge smell. It can be hard to bridge the language barrier, but I've done it many times and it is always a thrill. 

Music - People ask me what my favorite music is and I have always had trouble answering. That is because the music I love most is the music people make for fun without electricity and often with makeshift instruments. The most memorable music (and some of the best moments of my life) were a drum and signing circle under the full moon in a Zimbabwean village and Czech hikers stopped by a campfire, playing folk songs with a guitar, spoons, sticks and the box of quickie rice. I'm not just being charitable. This is my favorite music.

Art with words - Language is one of the most quintessentially human things. I don't particularly care if it is one I understand. There is a beauty in artfully used language that crosses all artificial borders. Delight in the craft of wordsmithing to which we are all heirs. 

Hugs - They've already tried to taint hugging with the brush of sexual harassment but hugs are kind of the antithesis of divisions. Real hugs, not sexualized contact, connect us primally and I very much doubt they can ever be corporately controlled. 

Connecting with animals and plants - There is also a divide between us and other life. In some cultures dogs are favorite pets while in others dogs are intensely feared. The same goes for cats. But all cultures have some close bonds with some animal or plant. And again this connection is something corporations cannot monopolize. 

Rallying in public - People of every culture understand the will to be heard. Public rallies and protests are less prevalent in some societies but everywhere we understand that coming together in public to take a stand and defy artificial divisions is at our human core. Yes, politicians and corporations profit off of some public rallies and there are rallies for division and hate as much as there are rallies against it. But the important thing is that they cannot completely control such gathering. They have tried in many places at many points in history and they have always eventually failed.

None of these things are unpolitical acts. Gardening, playing music, hugging, putting up solar panels, joyfully learning about other cultures--these are all acts of resistance to harm and the breaking down of manipulative divides. They matter.  Please add more to this list in the comments.

Full October Moon: How to live with the rhythm of nature

The leaves are just turning where I live and the nights are suddenly cold. As I learn to live closer to the rhythms of the earth, I notice which plants turn first---the climbing relative of ivy on our southern fence has already turned brilliant scarlet amid the green leaves of plum and nettle, and then the leaves of the cherry trees start to turn. 

Still there are a few blackberries, just enough for a tart taste on the way to the chicken coop every evening. The Siberian buckwart is abundant with bright orange berries loaded with vitamins and essential fatty acids. But much of the garden lies in browning shambles. The last of the tomatoes are barely ripening ahead of the mold and a line of pumpkins sits frost curing on the back porch. 

In this modern world, these things make me odd. My neighbors have yards but little in the way of gardens. I exist at technological extremes--alternating between dictating notes to an iPad and wielding a short-handled shovel. I tend to leave out a lot of the accouterments of modern life in between. We don't own a TV and our microwave dates from the previous century.  I have noticed that this embrace of the extremes of technology without the middle part has become the mark of a certain tribe in today's world,

We are often people concerned with the future of the earth and the human impact on it. We see technology as a tool to be used carefully and also as a drug that can both save lives and enslave if self-control is not exercised. We grow food from seed and cook from scratch, but at the same time we communicate over vast distances with the most sophisticated technology This is a tribe that admires simple living but cannot abide simple thoughts. 

Here are a couple of seasonal tips for those of similar mind:

• Now is the time of symbolic harvest, whether you grow food or not. It is the time to take stock and think about gift giving. Use these October days to make or shop for gifts for whichever midwinter holiday you celebrate. This is why our ancestors placed the gift-giving holiday several months after harvest. We have ample time now but no time to waste. And forethought will make the winter celebrations much less stressful. 
• At the end of October comes the first of the great sugar festivals of modern times. But modern medicine increasingly shows that a diet high in sugar is even more dangerous than a diet high in fat. Cut the sugar in most recipes by half and see if you notice. If necessary add a little back but only a little and then less the next time you make the recipe. You will likely find that you enjoy the treat every bit as much and you will ingest less sugar.
• Security experts say the best long-term defense against natural and human disaster is not skill with weapons but skill with the soil. Those who can grow their own food without lots of electricity and plastic shall inherit the earth within the next one hundred years. Start the process of learning in your family. You don't need to do it all at once. But now is the time to begin. Dig a garden bed in your yard or acquire and fill potting containers for your balcony or apartment window. You don't need to have a farm now, only get to know the complex skills needed to make food grow from soil. Turn the mass of grass and roots. Add compost, manure, unpolluted wood ashes and other natural fertilizers. In climates where frost is not imminent, plant green mulchto keep weeds down and treat the soil. In colder climates, let the cleansing cold beat back pests and mold in your garden until spring.
• Substitute grated zucchini for milk, yogurt and other liquids in cake. It not only increases your the ratio of vegetables in your diet and uses up excess late-season zucchinis, but it also tastes better (if you like your cake moist and rich). Grated zucchini freezes well and can be put in just about everything sweet or savory.
• Add calendula flower petals to salads, breads and pasta dishes. A lovely dash of fall color and health benefits at a time when your body is preparing for the cold. 
• Save leftover potatoes and add them to bread dough for a softer, fluffier bread or roll recipe. 
• Fallen leaves, corn husks and other normal (not moldy) dying vegetation, make good mulch for borders and along fences. Put down an armload of drying foliage where you don't want spring weeds to sprout in six months. You'll have a tidier yard with less work. 
• Carrots don't need to be dug immediately. Whether you have a root cellar or not, they keep better in the ground as long as the soil is not frozen and can be dug up as needed. Extra space in the refrigerator and less chance of spoiled carrots.  

These are just a few seasonal tips. Please share your own simple living ideas and experiences in the comments. Sharing your wealth of experience is one way to celebrate the symbolic abd real harvest.

A candle in the frost

Most evenings I teach English as a second language in order to stretch the family budget a bit. The lessons are based on the same principle as my blogs and newsletter. A cup of tea and some food for the soul are crucial. 

One class has been going on for seven years at a local community center. It's a small group of women who meet every week for tea and conversation with my interjections on grammar for spice. And this is by no means a group of only  young ambitious women. Our elder is seventy-three and she's the only one who consistently does her homework. 

A couple of weeks ago a hard frost came through in mid-April and killed just about everyone's tomato and cucumber starts. Only the eldest was spared.

She hunkered over her notebook filled with carefully noted English sentences and fairly cackled with delight, "Too early for seedlings last week. Now I'll put them out and then when the last frost comes with the three frozen men, I put a candle in the greenhouse. That will keep them snug. Just a little candle."

I had fared better than most because I hadn't had time to put out all of my seedlings yet. But by the first week in May I had to plant them. And I thought they would be fine. The weather had obviously turned to late spring with grass shooting up and everything starting to bloom.

But then out of the north it came--a huge storm of rain and sleet. We were on a bike ride with friends at the time and expected only a little spring shower. We stashed our bikes beneath an awning and took shelter in a restaurant for soup and hot chocolate. But then we watched with trepidation as a deluge flooded the road. Sleet fell white amid the pouring rain.

And the air behind the cloud bank was ice cold. For three days it stayed and I learned this is what the old-timers here call "the three frozen men." There are always three days in May when a wall of Arctic air comes down to destroy crops and cripple orchards in Central Europe. It often falls on the days named after the Czech saints Pankrác, Servác and Bonifác--three grim old men with severe faces.

I hurried to cover my tender squash seedlings that evening. But my greatest fear was for the tomatoes and peppers in a small greenhouse. It isn't just frost they won't tolerate but anything close to it. 

Feeling a bit like I was reenacting a folk superstition, I took a candle and a prayer to the greenhouse late in the evening under the light of the full moon--now shining in a clear, frosty sky. My breath froze in silver clouds as I stepped inside. The frost was already creeping in.

The next morning I woke up to a world gone unseasonably white. The blossoming plum trees were coated in ice. The grass was crunchy under foot. Even the soil had frozen half an inch deep. According to local measurements, the frost had lasted at least 6 hours throughout the night. It was much harder than I'd expected.

Some of the covered plants suffered frostbite. Anything vulnerable that wasn't covered was entirely gone. But the peppers and tomatoes were fine with the candle still burning in the dawn--a tiny flame but just enough to keep the frost at bay.

I look forward to going back to the tea-and-chat circle next week to compare notes and tell how it really is the case that we need the wisdom of old-timers.

In hunter-gatherer societies and even in the days when most people lived through farming, elders and their experience had a crucial place for precisely this reason. But today with chemicals and technology so much has changed that it's hard to remember to listen.

Yet these are the days when a frost of another kind is coming down--the chill of authoritarianism and xenophobia. There are signs from all sides that times will be hard. 

For me this is a timely reminder to pay attention to those with long experience. And to simply listen to long-burning candles in the frost.