I LOVE what you wrote for the back cover.
And I loved your Landrace book.
I’m excited about the new edition.
Just a couple of observations about things that have occupied my friends and me lately:
Someone said something about community - it made me think of community gardens. All different people planting all different things using all different methods. Is this an opportunity or a challenge (or both) when what other people do affects one’s own plot by virtue of such close proximity? Having found myself living in town and wishing for more growing space I am pondering joining a community garden, if I can find one. They are amazingly scarce around here. But if I do, I will be wondering about that.
And of course climate goes without saying. But it’s feeling like it’s more complex than just changes in precipitation and temperature. For example, last week there was quite a discussion around the table amongst our weekly knitting group. People were noticing their gardens seem to need more water than the “new” normal has begun to require - even when the temperatures are not much higher. We came away wondering if the air moving through our valley from elsewhere (Willamette, about 20 miles south of Portland) is simply drier now, independently of what’s happening on the ground, so to speak? Drier air that is absorbing our water on the ground at a faster rate, holding temperature constant. Or maybe it’s just breezier now?
And what is rapid weather change doing to the soil critters and pollinators and small animals on which we depend? Will some multiply like crazy while others retreat? Regardless of what we plant or how we treat our soil? We’re already changing our choices of plants, especially perennials of all sorts, in response to weather changes. But while we can ensure that we provide them with food and water and shelter, we really don’t have a clue whether there are other new things we might be thinking about in response to these rapid changes that we’re not already doing.
Just some new to us thoughts. We knitters are all in observation mode now. And some of us are focusing on experimentation. Any advice for guiding us toward the known and unknown future would be most welcome.
Note: just a little bit of a rant, a good time to stop reading if you’re in a hurry. It’s not aimed at your work, or anybody on permies that might be reading this, but rather a note regarding the relative dearth in “the literature” in general, which is why I’m always hopeful when a permie is doing the writing.
We are women in our 60s, though our experience is most definitely not limited to our age group. But I will talk abut me and my ilk (people I know).
Most of us have lived on acreage during our lives and a very few still do, but most of us now live in town. We very much appreciate gardening/climate/saving the world in our backyard strategies that can actually be implemented in our backyards- usually a quarter acre or less, including house and garage and paved driveway and mandated setbacks. There are thousands upon thousands of acres “spent” on these types of households, but very little literature focused on how to improve our ecological footprints, help to feed ourselves, and foster natural diversity, in a systematic way (systematic is Key). There’s a lot we can do, but there’s simply not much good guidance aimed at this demographic, regardless of age group. We do read material whose target audiences are those with more resources (land, mostly) and then work to figure out what we can generalize to our smaller scale, and more importantly, how to do it so that the impact is worthwhile. But it’s a slog.
In other words - lots of us on small lots are not dreaming of the award winning bug free flower garden and two perfect tomato plants surrounded by a chemically manicured lawn trimmed weekly by a nice man with loud gas powered tools and a backpack sprayer. But we do live amongst them. I do my best to lead by example. So, I’m always in the market for more examples. Of the systematic sort. As well as ways for me to do more with the efforts I expend.
Sorry. I know I’m preaching to the choir. But sometimes I just gotta let it out.