Blog Posts

Roses are Red, By Winter Intern Ian Thompson

3/7/2019

2/28/2019
Today was great. Helen and I were at it again on a beautiful day in the PNW. The compost was hot and the ground was cold. We were not the only ones up early exploring the garden. Since all the snow melted different critters were poking their heads up and checking everything out. When the first ray of sunshine peered through the darkness and hit the ground this morning, it started a chain reaction melting the frost off of the sleepy wilted greens. It must have started somewhere on the south east corner and slowly engulfed the whole garden, and before you know it a lil caterpillar could be found scooting around doing a dance. Life was also poking above the soil in the greenhouse as the several brassicas that were planted in a flat and put under 24 hour light has started sprouting in a neat little line. Two little leafs soaking in the light, probably just realizing and getting ready to fulfill their entire purpose on this planet.
Rose pruning was also a priority on today's list of activities. Lucky for me, Helen has been expertly trained by a master rosarian, and is willing to pass on her knowledge to me. We collected our tool and headed out into the garden. Two individuals entering a very diverse ecosystem as champions at the top of the food chain. Our decisions today will, quite literally,shape the way the roses will live and grow for the rest of their lives. It is very important work. Upon our initial inspection we found the rose bushes to be completely untamed. They were wild and vigorous. Their goal in this life is to grow high above any other plant, and spread far and wide. The base was a cluster of thick, strong wood covered in razor sharp thorns. They came out of the ground and grew straight up above your head. It was difficult to even know where to start. We put on our gloves that were strong enough to resist the thorns and equipped our loppers sharp enough to cut them down at the base and began clearing the surrounding stocks. They were thin and just getting bearings before we flattened their progress and forbade their existence. We cleared anything not attached to the main cluster and threw them in a pile behind us. Soon we exposed the thickest and oldest growth and we were able to study it's design and figure a way to best promote it's growth and health while still clearing away most of the bulk. We decided to keep the young and new stocks, and remove the oldest and thickest ones. I imagine it's because they required the most resources to survive. So down they came, we sawed through their trunk and eliminated the cane. We looked at all the qualities and decided which would stay and which would go. In this situation, only the straight and narrow, young and healthy were acceptable, all others perished.
I couldn't help but feel a bit like an ultimate decider/ executer in the fate of each branch. If any were even slightly outside of my expectations, I swiftly eliminated their presence, and took away any chance of survival or reproduction it ever thought it would achieve. I thought about my own mortality in this way, and how relevant this perspective must be to a certain class/ tier of society. With the absolute power over others’ survival or chances to thrive. How does this relate to our everyday life if you don't fit into a certain expectation for society. Examples can be seen in today's world that society too wishes to eliminate individuals who don't fit into the mainstream culture. If an individual grows naturally in a different way than what is desired, they too will undoubtedly face resistance and will be cast aside. I felt bad for the branches that lived their whole lives only to be cut away because they were too old, skinny, twisted, or leaned a certain way against the crowd. I consider myself someone who doesn't necessarily fit into a box, and someone who walks against the crowd. This was starting to weigh on my mind, making me uneasy as Helen pointed and I chopped. In nature this plant would thrive and dominate regardless of what the stocks looked like, and nature would take its course. This plant didn't need us to help it survive.
But as we cleared away the bulk and took away the grass and dead leaves that were once just in the background covering up the main development, I could see that all the stocks we were cutting were all attached to a main bulb. This one bulb had produced so many other stems that we were simply thinning it. The chances that were being eliminated were not just individuals, but together part of one being. We were thinning the crowded stocks from consuming all the resources and concentrating the energy to the healthiest stocks to make the prettiest flowers. And because they are heirloom flowers, and just happen to be in our garden, we want to help the plant flourish in a controlled manner in order to produce the qualities we desire, and there's nothing wrong with that. It was absolutely the first time in a long time those beautiful rose bushes got the care and attention they deserve. And with all the benefits that come with owning heirloom roses, including seeing and smelling their beautiful flowers, they have equally as much maintenance needed. I was very pleased with the outcome and very thankful that I was able to be a part of their care. In the end this plant will live on much healthier to be enjoyed for years by many.

Before:

Before pruning

After:

After pruning

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The Sex Life of Naked Pumpkins--Part Two, by Helen Gabel

2/22/2019

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We investigated the process for breeding naked pumpkins from Patricia's seeds. The hopeful farmer identifies a number of about-to-open blossoms and tapes them shut on the evening before they will open.

Then, early the next morning, the farmer untapes the blossoms. She rubs the pollen from the male rod onto the female basket. If there are several candidate male blossoms, she uses them all. The more pollen the better!

Then the female blossom is taped tight again to prevent any further bee helpers from carrying in wayward genetic material.

This last year a local artist, Lou Cabeen, came out to help us. She tied a red-threaded chastity-belt onto our fertilized female blossoms.

The blossom is tagged so that if a fruit sets, the farmer knows to save those seeds for planting the following year. Luckily, one carefully fertilized pumpkin in both 2017 and 2018 "set."

Our vines produced many more pumpkins, but those fruits may or may not have been pollinated by other naked pumpkins. So we have enjoyed eating them, but haven't counted on them to grow next year's crop.
The mature pumpkin with its naked seeds looks like this, ready to make into a delicious soup.

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The Sex Life of Naked Pumpkins--Part One, by Helen Gabel

2/21/2019

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In 2016 Patricia was given some seeds from an heirloom Eastern European pumpkin, one whose seeds lack an outer shell. Thus they are known as "hull-less" or "naked" pumpkins. The seeds can be eaten directly, without roasting or shell-cracking, and are high in protein and other nutrients. So, of course, we wanted to grow more of them!

However, getting squash (pumpkins are a variety of squash) to "breed true" is a tricky process. Their flowers are flamboyant and attractive to pollinators. How does one prevent an industrious little bee that has just visited a zucchini plant from carrying zucchini pollen over to our naked pumpkins? And you can't tell from the fruit whether or not the seeds will make new naked pumpkins. You have to do your best to ensure that the right kind of pollen meets the right kind of blossom and then wait a full year to see if those seeds produce the kind of squash you want.

The first step is to identify a male flower that is about to open, and a female flower that is about to open. The female flowers have a miniature teeny tiny fruit at their base, and grow further out on the vines. This is a photo of a female zucchini blossom starting to open:

The male flowers lack the mini-fruit and grow from the middle of the plant. This is a photo of a male zucchini blossom:

Inside, the male blossom will have a little rod full of pollen at its base, and the female blossom will have a little basket at its base.

Naked pumpkin male blossom

Naked pumpkin female blossom

The squash plant makes several male blossoms before it puts out a female blossom, perhaps to get the local pollinators used to visiting this particular neighborhood. The farmer's job is going to be outwitting those busy insects.

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ROSES at Songaia by Laura Klepfer, Piglet/Biogaian/Community Member

1/31/2019

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Yesterday, Laura and Mary met with John Harmelling from the Seattle Rose Society. He has been tending roses for 40 years. He also knows the woman who gifted us our rose collection! Nancy came by to let him know about Fred's involvement in the initial acceptance and planting of the roses and to ask if Rose Lee (the woman who gave us the roses) is still around. She is, and is still giving talks at the Rose Society. Perhaps at the height of bloom time we can invite her out for a little appreciation and perhaps even hear her story of the donation. Perhaps a thank you gift of some kind?

I digress. John gave us excellent advice. He shared his deep knowledge of pruning, had watering advice, showed us his favorite tools for pruning, suggested fertilization products and let us know what he is willing to do. He will come for 1 1/2 hours to do a pruning Demonstration. I will also be proposing to the Biogaians the possibility of hiring him to do a few of the older plants of distinct types. We may want to have him come back at the end of June as we learned that some of our plants need to be pruned again betwween the time the blossoms are done and the hips are formed.

The most important thing that came out of our meeting is a date for him to come out and give a pruning demonstration and kick off our Pruning Party!
You will hear more about this soon, but mark your calendar's. The event will happen on Saturday, February 23rd starting at 10:00.

May your love of growing be ignited by the Spring,
Laura

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An intimacy with place, By Anita Higgins, Garden Steward

1/28/2019

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Wow, Dear Community, it’s been a while since I have shared with you in this way. I miss it. In addition to not making the time to do it, I have felt some sort of blockage on my voice since accepting the position of Garden Steward here. But I think it’s really important that I flesh out that blockage. Writing plays such a huge role in my own mental clarity, and I know it can be a way of connecting with the community that allows for a deeper look into a person’s thought processes and intentions. Thank you for reading.

I want to start with a story. As some of you may know, I am currently working on a Stewardship Plan for the Songaia forest, with support from the Biogaians, knowledgeable community members, WSU Forestry Extension, and the Outdoor Wellness Club at the University of Washington. It feels really good to be applying what I learned while studying ecology and ecosystem restoration at UW Bothell, especially in service to all you sweet people and to this piece of land that I have been cultivating an intimacy with.

As most of you have probably felt in one way or another, creating a plan to care for our beloved forest is overwhelming. There are so many aspects to consider, from laminated root rot, to vulnerable new plantings, to liability, to our diversity of misplaced (non-native) species, to the increased habitat fragmentation due to development, to the changing climate. How do we responsibly steward a remnant forest surrounded on all sides by human development? Most days I’m able to step back from that overwhelm and look at it-- watching it pass by me, but not letting it color my days. Some days it consumes me. Earlier this month, the forest made an appearance in my dreams.

I woke up in a place that wasn’t my home, but I recognized must have been. It felt like home. Unit 10. I heard the wind ripping past my window. A mighty Pacific Northwest windstorm was moving through and had been since earlier that morning. I looked out the window to the north and saw huge Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) trees crashing down in the Crestmont development, flattening fences. In the flash of a panicked thought, I was outside, standing at the base of Spring Hill. The forest was gone.

All but ten trees had fallen throughout the night. Not only had the trees fallen, they had disappeared. It looked like Weyerhauser had come through and hauled all the trees away, leaving a tangle of dry and mangled organic matter around the stumps that dotted the hillside. I saw a group of people and pickup trucks up on the utility easement. In the flash of another thought, I was at the top of Spring Hill. I observed these people, who I recognized as owners of the houses in the surrounding developments, chopping the trees into rounds and taking them away in their trucks. Most of them just seemed like they were doing it mindlessly, like--why wouldn’t we do this? I somehow knew what to do.

Holding back my outrage and grief, I approached the people from the developments and asked them if they would circle up. I wanted to welcome them and ask them some questions. They did so, with the exception of one middle-aged white man who continued to load his truck. He was red-in-the-face, radiating anger and a masked desperation that came out as a determination to get his share. Once he noticed that everyone else had circled up, he joined, grumbling.

As we circled, my dear friend, soul-bud, feather friend Joey Crotty appeared. Playing off of one another, he and I asked these people a series of questions, ranging from the practical to the philosophical.
“You all have been neighbors of this forest. What did this forest mean to you before it fell? Did you notice it? Did you ever enter it? Did you know it was ailing?”
“Why are you taking these trees away? What have you to gain? What need are you trying to meet? What do you really need? What is it like to be you?”
Round and round the questions went, their answers knitting us together--humanity shining out the eyes of each person, awake in the world and seeing each other.

Hayra came. And as we turned to look at the denuded hillside, the dream ended with deep belly sobs. In the glow of this freshly woven human community, we felt the grief of the remaining Douglas fir trees, who had just lost the better part of the community they had known. We felt their grief as our own, knowing somehow that our well-being was tied to the well-being of this remnant forest stand.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Do you ever have those dreams that linger? They stick with you for days after you’ve had them, begging to be remembered, or told, or interpreted? This dream lingered for days after I had it, and I am still grateful every time I see the forest standing.

This week I started the online WSU Extension Forestry course, which will aid in the creation of a stewardship plan for the forest. The course aims to help the student prepare a plan for the forest they steward that will meet the state qualifications, allowing them to apply for conservation grants, tax cuts, and to register as a sustainably managed forest. Northwest Washington State certified forester, Boyd Norton, will be paying Songaia a visit (day/time TBD--will keep folks posted) and will spend time assessing forest health, looking at liability concerns, and recommending a course of action for our unique situation.

Through the work that will go into this plan, we will be cultivating a deeper intimacy with the Songaia forest, getting to know the forest and its place in the greater region through different lenses. Through my college studies, I learned a scientific way of knowing and seeing the world. Careful observation, applied theory, and controlled experimentation can allow for an intimacy with place that is quantifiable. We can learn what percent of our conifers are susceptible to laminated root rot, how much carbon the forest sequesters each year, how much water it helps to hold in the landscape. We can calculate the percent coverage of Himalayan blackberry (Rubus armeniacus) we have on the edges of the forest, assess the wildlife population, or determine the percent canopy cover change over time. All of these would help us to cultivate a quantifiable intimacy with place.

And while this quantifiable intimacy is no doubt important, there are other lenses through which we also need to look in order to holistically approach the stewardship of our forest, and to create a plan that feels truly and organically sustainable to us. There is an intimacy which is not so easily quantified--an intimacy that comes from years of interacting with a place. From this intimacy, culture is born--language, song, myth, and story. And through culture, truly sustainable systems of stewardship can come into being, in which humans see their functional role in an ecosystem.

This is why I wanted to start with story, and why I am now calling on you, dear community. Story plays such a central role in the formation of culture, and the culture that I encountered when I was an intern, and that continues to emerge at Songaia, is no exception. My requests are twofold:

- First, I request that over the next month, if you have a story of the forest that you put it in writing and send it to me. I already have a few stories of the forest collected (from ROPJ folks, for example), but I know many of you have stories borne from your intimacy with this land, some of which go back to the beginning of Songaia. I have heard stirrings of a "Songaia: The Second Decade" book, and this collection of stories would undoubtedly be a treasured addition.

-Second, I ask you to come to the Forest Stewardship discussion I am holding in two weeks, after breakfast on February 9th from 9:30-11:30 am in the dining room. We will share some of these stories, and have structured space for voicing concerns, ideas, and visions of a thriving Songaia forest. You will play an active role in the creation of the "Land-owner objectives" portion of the forest stewardship plan.

Let me know if you have any questions, or if you want to become more deeply involved.

Much love,

Anita

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Superheroes, by Winter Intern Ian Thompson 1-8-2019

1/11/2019

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On Tuesdays, piglet meetings are normally a big deal, and today was no exception. Helen, and I, along with Brent and Nura all joined alongside the round table; Anita was there to lead the discussion.

The weather outside was grey and soggy, but it didn’t hold back our energy, and there was lots to be done. We all sat as equals, and discussed where our energy was in, these early days of 2019. Some of us were investing energy for traveling abroad, and some were investing in change from within.

Suddenly, in walks our good friend Laura, who had just arrived back home the night before. Alas, the gang was all there. We convened over tea discussing the tasks that lay before us. It seems that Songaia associate and long time friend of the community, Bay, had donated lots and lots of canning jars! This means someone had to take on the daunting task of actually organizing the dreaded canning closet. It would be no easy task. Secondly, the Happy Greenhouse needed some attention too, because February is coming fast and we needed that space to be organized and ready to use. The squad decided to split up and tackle these issues in two teams. Nura, Helen and I were to organize the greenhouse while Anita, Laura and Brent tackled the canning closet.

It was truly a daunting sight seeing Brent load several carts filled with jars, when the closet was already full and completely out of order. It took hours and hours of works and several people to complete, but you best believe we all got the job done. The greenhouse was the first, but the dustiest, to be completed. The canning closet, however, took vastly more effort. A big shout-out goes to all who helped, we’re like real life superheroes, especially when we all unite as one to fight for good. Go piglets!

Laura and Anita "celebrate" the abundance of resources...

Captain Helps-a-lot saves the day, once again

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Many Hands Make Light Work, by intern Ian Thompson 12/20/18

1/3/2019

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Thursday morning. The piglet meetings are normally a small crowd in the winter, and Helen and I have been the only ones willing and able to brave the weather. Still we find our way to the common house, present with big smiles and shiny noses from the cold; but soon the hot tea and check in connection have us feeling warm inside and ready for the day. But today is different, we have a special guest! Kai and his father Moe are visiting the area, and are friends of Brent’s, so they are staying for a few days in the guest room. Kai is a former garden intern from 2016, he spent the summer in the garden helping and creating what we have today. Moe is visiting his son, and has lived in New Zealand for many years. I invited them to join us when I first met them the night before at dinner. We had a short conversation, and I decided I would love to get to know him more, and thought for sure he would be interested in seeing how the garden has changed since he last saw it. Thankfully they agreed to join us, and sure enough we met them the next morning for breakfast and tea.
After getting acquainted we discussed plans for the day. Helen, being the amazing leader that she is, layed out the strategy, and off we went. First order of business was collecting and redistributing the cardboard that had flown off the garden aisles because of high winds the night before. The wind was so strong that night, the lights flickered as the utility poles swayed in the wind. After laying it back on the rows, we put rebar and fence posts on top to weigh them down. We are out of wood chips, so this solution will have to do for now. We were expecting bad weather soon and this was first priority. Compost was also important, and needed to be flipped, so I was very excited they were willing to roll their sleeves up and shovel compost in the cold as dark clouds started gathering above us. Alas, we were done.
“Many hands make light work.” In fact, we were so efficient, we completed all our outside tasks right on time before the rain started to come down around us. We all rendezvoused back in the common house to finish out the day. Because the Snohomish seed swap has been confirmed, Songaia must be present, and we needed to prepare and sort the many seeds Helen had saved from our 2018 season. Today were Brassicas, four giant bags full of seed pods that had been drying since harvest, several months ago. This has been our normal routine for a few weeks now, and I have started feeling like a pro. It's really just a trick of shaking and grinding the stems together to break open the pods and release a tiny tiny speckle of a seed. Its most interesting and can be tiresome, but today it was an experience in showing and discussing the process to others. It felt invigorating being able to share knowledge with another person with a genuine interest in learning about it. You can see the joy in their faces, it's quite rewarding. We released the seeds, and sorted and separated the chaff using a colander, then scooped about a teaspoon (about 30-40 seeds) into small envelopes, closed them and labeled them by their name. “Dinosaur Kale, Harvested 2018, Songaia”. It's a seal of authenticity. These seeds were produced from plants in organic soil, that never needed artificial nutrients, or herbicides or pesticides. I feel pride in representing Songaia in a positive and responsible way. I believe in the core principles that the community was originally built upon. To see these seeds be distributed to other local communities is a source of overwhelming possibility. It’s exciting to know that others will pass on and grow these life sustaining foods.

Kai, Moe, and Helen process Brassica seeds in the Common House. These seeds are destined for the 2019 Snoqualmie Seed Swap in February!

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Snapshots from a Winter Intern, by Ian Thompson

12/18/2018

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Happy Chefs Ian and Helen :)

Piglets Nura and Anita attentively learning from Helen about Hull-less, "naked" pumpkin seeds, and the promiscuity of squashes.

Barb, Art, Katie, Olive, Nartano, Anita, Zarifah, and MistyDawn gettin' festive.

Parsnips, y'all

UW CBLR student Bee Elliott, Helen, and Ian harvest parsnips in the garden.

From garden to table to garden <3

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Seed Savin' Sanctuary, by Ian Thompson

12/17/2018

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Intern Blog
12/6/18
Thursday

It started out as a quiet morning and the frost still stuck to anything the sun hadn't touched. I was in motion to meet Helen at 9:30 in the common house. I got there first. We had plans to diversify my intern timesheet and she graciously volunteered to teach. We started out reading some great information about seed saving and started talking about how the annual seed swap meet may or may not be happening this year because of some complications on who would organize everything. She has such a wealth of knowledge on all kinds of different plants and their traits and characteristics. For example, different plants can flower and seed at different time in their maturity; and can even cross pollinate with different crops in the same family and create (beet + chard = bard / cheet?) inedible, mutant vegetables.
Afterwards, we took a walkabout to the pantry to examine Songaia’s existing seed bank. It consist of several envelopes and folded papers filled with seeds, labeled, dated and stored in big jars; there they remain cool, dark, and safe… waiting.
Later we decided to stroll through the frosty garden on our way to collect seeds from Helens study. There, in the garden, we examined the small plot of the key hole that I have plans to renovate and implement some different techniques to try and increase production and reduce labor.
Once collecting the seeds from the study we found ourselves back in the common house sorting beet seeds eating toast and sipping tea.
What a perfect way to spend a quiet morning in special place.

Helen saving the day, and the beet seeds. Bless her :)

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It's Spring in the garden, By Oluwa Jackson, Intern 2018

5/18/2018

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Pak choi establishing itself in its new garden bed

It’s Spring in the garden, and we are weeding and putting plant starts into the ground. Kale, chard, and thyme have been harvested for lunches, including a notable thyme pesto we enjoyed with pasta and toast. I have been learning a lot about permaculture while watching videos with the other interns, and thought I would share some musings.

Systems are full of cycles, feedback loops, and interconnections with other systems. An ecosystem is a great example of a whole made of many parts, with flows into the system (such as sunlight, water, and wind) and flows out (such as food, oxygen and clean water). A healthy system has buffers to keep its feedback loops stable, but also the ability to alter its cycles to adapt to input changes. An ecosystem is a living thing composed of many other living things, who exist in a complementary pattern. The waste of one being might be the food of another. One organism’s ability to make nutrients available to another (such as by fixing nitrogen from the atmosphere into the soil) is encouraged by the other organism making different nutrients available in return (perhaps by leaking them into the soil through its root system). Or one species may make shade, while another provides vertical structure for a vine species to climb.

The more organisms there are than can provide similar services, the more resilient the ecosystem tends to be. For example, if one producer gets stressed by an unusual weather pattern such as an unseasonal frost, if a less vulnerable producer can perform that service for the ecosystem until the first producer recovers. Redundancy is a benefit - as long as it is not complete competition, in which case the more successful species is likely to replace the one that is less well-adapted.

Complexity is a benefit to many living systems, but humans are challenged by it; we often feel inclined to simplify a system to make it more predictable and under our control. Unfortunately, a policy that makes it easy to use massive machinery to predictably harvest profitable monocrops also means that if an unusual weather event takes place, the whole crop can fail at once. Many famines have been caused by excessive simplification of agricultural systems, which, when they collapsed, had nothing to supplement them. That’s why it’s important to think about the long-term impact of choices that may have great short-term benefits. Scaling up an endeavor into a highly profitable enterprise is tempting, but it’s important not to do so without thinking about the consequences of also scaling up the emissions of a certain kind of waste beyond the ability of the environment to dilute or transform it.

To me, Permaculture is about cultivating a complex, balanced system that has the ability to self-organize (because the many species can adjust their relationships to one another as needed for the benefit of all) and self-heal (because when one part of the system is damaged, another is ready to fill in for that function). Diversity is important, as is the co-evolution of species that work as partners. Systems with powerful emergent properties, such as making a fertile place increasingly more fertile through their activities, take time to develop. The willingness to not force the system, but let it find its own balance while patiently observing what factors adjust themselves and why is a way to help join in the dance. In that way, humans become a useful part of their ecosystem – greater than themselves, greater than the human society, a functioning part of a whole that includes every living thing in and on the land and water where we make our home.

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Roses are Red, By Winter Intern Ian Thompson

Before:

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The Sex Life of Naked Pumpkins--Part Two, by Helen Gabel

The Sex Life of Naked Pumpkins--Part One, by Helen Gabel

ROSES at Songaia by Laura Klepfer, Piglet/Biogaian/Community Member

An intimacy with place, By Anita Higgins, Garden Steward

Superheroes, by Winter Intern Ian Thompson 1-8-2019

Many Hands Make Light Work, by intern Ian Thompson 12/20/18

Snapshots from a Winter Intern, by Ian Thompson

Seed Savin' Sanctuary, by Ian Thompson

It's Spring in the garden, By Oluwa Jackson, Intern 2018

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