The rain brings with it leaves

For a week or so now, we have been experiencing the edges of rainy season. For those of you whom have visited this blog from its inception, you will recall the existential role that rain played for the production of the content herein. You could say this blog's raison d' etre lied in its cathartic outlet that it provided for Kate and I as we adjusted to life in a tropical rain forest during the peak of rainy season.

Well as it's only been a glimpse of precipitation so far, I for one am not in need of catharsis; on this occasion, rather, I have greeted the rain with joy and curiosity. Other beings close to us, too have saluted the rain.

In February of this year, I decided to begin a garden in our house. With a dull shovel, and a hell of a lot of intention, I shoveled away around 24 Sq feet of that ghastly African grass which covers a lot of farm land in the area. This species of grass was imported during the first half of the 20^th Century due to its ability to withstand fire. Cattle farmers jumped on the opportunity of being able to use fire to clear areas for pasture, and spread this grass around. Now, if you want to convert cattle land to agricultural land, be prepared for a fight—more like a war—for there wont just be one or a few battles. Instead, after the first frontal assault, you will need eternal vigilance against this grassy foe, for it has the ability to keep entire rain forests at bay (and in fact it does just this). Against the inertia, biomass, creativity and projectivity of a rain forest, what's a small home garden got to offer in terms of resistance to this grass? Nothing but persistence. Our garden has now persisted for three whole months, and it has gained more territory than the African invader. A key turning point in this martial encounter?

The adoption of shovel sharpening techniques. With the blade of my shovel as sharp as that of my machete, I have tripled (at least) the speed with which I can clear new ground for our garden.

Having stated the background and ongoing conditions, allow me to introduce to you the other key players involved in this micro-historical play:

Kale, arugula, spicy peppers, strawberries, lemon grass, mustard, basil, lettuce, arracache (a high land delicious tuber that looks like yuca but tastes much better), beets, tomatoes, celery, chamol (another tuber, more dense than a potato, less fibrous than yuca, round and delicious), achokcha (a south american cucurbitacea (the family that encompasses cucumbers, melons, etc) various kinds of beans, and various kinds of squashes.

In total, we probably have 70 Sq feet of productive land. While being plenty, it's not a lot, and like the joker said in the last Batman film, “our company is small, but there is a lot of potential for aggressive expansion.”

Other key players involved in this Greek tragedy include cows, and yes, our tragic villain, the African grass (“but you told us this already Ernesto!”) in manure form. Based on a farming experience I had with my class (now ended) in San Luis (see post titled “Shoveling Shit”), I began composting my own brew of manure, soil and molasses. It's probably been the most fun process of all of the ones unfolding in our front yard for me, for it is a dynamic system that yields quick results. After the wheelbarrow full of fresh moist manure is brought to its destination, I add around a gallon of molasses, a bucket full of nice soil from the forest, and mix it all up. The first two days not much happens. It still looks and smells like cow shit. But around day three, things start heating up, literally, and the scent turns to sweet molasses, the texture begins to look like soil and the flies visit no more. At this point I turn it once a day, for around 3 weeks, until I get a beautiful soil compost, ready to mixed with soil for planting, seed germinating, or to be used as add on organic fertilizer. My parents are now proud users of “Ernesto's Magic Manure Medium: The three M's stand for shit!”--Registered Trade Crap.

So, back to the rain, this week has witnessed the amazing welcome given to the humidity by our arracache. As tubers, growing below, most of their activity has hitherto been hidden from our field of vision. But with the rain, they have sprouted and spread their beautiful celery-esque leaves, in a show of appreciation for rain.

I love gardening. It's the first thing I do every morning, and the first thing I do when I get home from work. The little plants soothe me and keep me interested. A lot of times I just sit a look at them. The shovel helps me stay strong, and the food, well the food is a small step towards more sustainable living. It's healthy, fresh, fun, rewarding, and it helps preserves traditions and seed varieties that face extinction from the forces of insane industrial production, and our concomitant alienation from our Earth.

Ok, 'nuff preaching.

Buy local!

Ernesto “Sharp Shovel” Ruiz