Saturday, January 19, 2013

open-sourced earth


This post is dedicated to the memory of Aaron Swartz.


Rolling around in my mind more and more is this idea of an open-sourced society and the feeling that it's almost around the corner. In that light, it seems that institutions and/or societies will have to crumble or fall if they don't have an 'ethical' base or one that DOES NO HARM.

There is no limitation to "do no harm", and it's not difficult. We must be willing not to be influenced by the patterns we've lived by for, perhaps, many, many centuries We must be willing to step out of those patterns and recognize that our choices are either for the good of the planet and for the good of any entity on the planet, or they are not.

Choices, like raising and processing food (fishing, whaling), the way we are developing medicines (pharmaceutical companies), the way that we amass funds (Wall Street) or don't, the way we access information (Pay for view vs. Open Library), the way we force beliefs upon others...

Perhaps the time is here when we can now look within ourselves to determine those choices and key to that, recognize that many of our choices are made due to cultural beliefs that may hold no validity any longer. No room for dogma - or the lies we tell ourselves and each other.



Thursday, January 10, 2013

2012 revisited


We’ve rolled through another year and come out the other side unscathed. Cobbled together a few favourite memories. The farm list remains long and unfinished and it really doesn’t matter.






















Monday, December 31, 2012

how much garlic is enough?



"Eat it. Love it. The odds are that garlic
will love you in return. Can you say that about thyme? About sage?
About arugula? About your child?"
 CHESTER AARON - The Great Garlic Book


Derek and Robin gifted us with this:


We gifted Derek and Robin with this:



"I can't get enough garlic."

TED WILLIAMS


Monday, October 1, 2012

gratitude

Today on my walk, I went from here:

To here:

In two steps.

Call me grateful.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

spudnapped!


Oh, come on. A few posts ago, I mentioned that someone swooped in and stole 300 hives from a Saskatchewan beekeeper. Bummer.

This morning, I heard that a B.C. farmer just had over 2,300 kilograms (that’s over 5,000 POUNDS!) of potatoes yanked fresh out of his fields – plants and all. If you’ve ever dug potatoes, you’d know that it’s next to impossible to just pull out a potato plant with all the spuds still attached. Anyway, a football field’s worth of ‘taters has gone missing.


I was still scratching my head, when this evening’s news announced that someone in Quebec has made off with a massive haul of maple syrup – what may actually add up to many millions of dollars’ worth. Ten million pounds of syrup was stored at the Federation of Quebec Maple Syrup Producers’ warehouse and they’re not yet sure how much syrup the thieves got away with. I haven’t even heard of “The Global Strategic Maple Syrup Reserve”.

Agro-crimes!

Better microchip the bees, install infra-red cameras in the field and put in an alarm system in the back corner of the basement where all the mapl .. uh, onions are.

Didn’t know we’re sitting on so much gold.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

the writing on the wall


Banksy, the elusive urban scrawler says, “Graffiti is one of the few tools you have if you have almost nothing. And even if you don’t come up with a picture to cure world poverty you can make someone smile while they’re having a piss.”

Hence:









Free for the viewing. Sure miss those gritty art school days.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

island boy

I guess I'm going to talk about Cecil again. When you live and work at home (and I'm usually confined to 24" of the same counter space day after day from May to November) your world - my world, gets pretty small. So, having almost only one neighbour close by becomes part of that small world. The good part is that I love Cecil to death and even though I initially think, "Damn, I've go so much to do right now," I end up laughing and trading stories with him and thoroughly enjoying his camaraderie.

When Cecil ambled over the other day, I didn’t tell him that my daughter, Morgan, who lives in the Caribbean in the Turks and Caicos, had flown up (“Buddy Pass”) for a 4-day visit. On her way to the airport in Provo, she passed the local Wednesday Farmers’ Market. Actually, in this case the apostrophe should be Farmer’s, as there was only one vendor. He had dried conch hanging up for sale in the tent. He also had corn grits and noni fruit (Morinda citrifolia) that she quickly bought, along with the dried conch and stashed it in her suitcase inside another suitcase (so she can take off-island clothes home with her from her 4 day shopping jag).

David Bowen admiring Headly Forbes' dried conch on Middle Caicos 

After arriving at the farm, Morgan spewed out the contents of her luggage to get at the conch. “Oh no!” she cried. “The noni fruit exploded.”

“What’s a noni fruit?”

“People use it for all sorts of medicinal things like cancer and diabetes – it’s amazing – I thought you’d like it.” (Huh?) “Oh, man, it’s all over my clothes.”

She picked up the plastic bag that held the liquid oozing fruit and gave me a whiff. “AAAAhhhggg” It smelt like two-day old road kill – or worse. “Throw it outside in the woods – yuck.”

Then she started sniffing her clothes from the duffle bag. “EWW!”  Then another one, “EWW!” Then the first one again, “EWW!” Then, “Oh, no, some of it got on the conch!”

Next day on the porch . . .

“So, Cecil . . . do you like dried conch?”

His eyes lit up and then he closed them. “I LOOOVE conch – dried or fresh or any way I can get it. Why? – you got some?”

At that moment, Morgan came out to the porch carrying her bag of conch. She handed Cec the dried, flat cephalopods and he started to laugh and couldn’t believe his eyes. He immediately pulled out one of the solid hunks and wrestled an end off with his teeth and started to gnaw on it.

“Gonna take some time before the flavour comes out,” he informed us. “Whoever made this knew what they were doin’ . . . ohhhh, I’m gonna make some conch chowda – Helen loves it too.”

And he did.