Reflections on a Changing World

Image credit: The Subversive Lens Facebook page. I just became aware of this writer.

Back in March, when the idea of what a pandemic meant hadn't yet sunk into my consciousness, I was afraid of what I didn't understand. It has been my nature to believe that things will work out well, to avoid disturbing news and at the same time to feel responsible for everything and fear anything I couldn't control. Needless to say, it was a difficult balancing act. 

When I began to grasp the pandemic's enormity, I fluctuated between feeling like self-isolating was really not much different than the way I had chosen to live and a total, all-encompasing fear. I had always lived simply and privately so self-isolating wasn't going to be hard. But it was. I was afraid of so many things that not knowing "the answer" on any subject about how to live through the pandemic was paralyzing. Now, more than three months into things, my anxiety has receded, replaced with a growing bit of resolve. I am grateful for my familiar way of life even with its new restrictions. 

This time of Mother Nature firmly kicking our global butts with a pandemic has caused the fragile systems that were holding us together as a country to fray alarmingly. Political systems, health systems, racial inequity, climate change, economic inequity, social support systems, educational systems and more, each in need of attention and overhaul. And the timetable of need so out of sync with the timetable of the possible. Yet, what else is there to do but to press on? Giving up is not an option although getting tired is guaranteed. 

I don't presume to have "answers." At the same time my North star remains a future that is fair, healthy and sustainable. Maybe I'm asking for too much, but maybe we - all of us - haven't expected enough of ourselves in the past. Maybe we've waited quietly for others to fix problems we saw. Or looked away when seeing was inconvenient or disturbing. For sure everyone can't do everything, but each of us can learn more about existing problems and engage more to better the situation. Some changes may come in bursts, others may be incremental. All contribute to moving along the path to that North star. Yes, it's going to be exhausting.

This little fellow looks just like the picture (out of focus) I took of the bee on my walk.
It came from the web, credit to keepingbee.org.

 It's been a long time since the last post. Lots of reasons, none of them particularly good.

It appears that the weather is going to be less than perfect again this year. Is my memory of spring accurate? Was it so much better when I was a child? So much more delineated as a season in my youth? I think it was. For sure, the bees weren't dying off then.

I found one on the front walk today. A honeybee dead. Was it lured out with the little bit of warm weather we've had and then not able to find enough food when the weather turned cold and rainy again? Or was the bee killed because the firm that takes care of the lawns uses a toxic herbicide? Or is there some sort of infestation in the hive where the bee resided? Whatever the reason, it was sad to see.

Spring is when things are  supposed to start blooming and thriving. Not dying. I hope it isn't a precursor of what's in store...

So it has come to this

Source: A great webcomic site xkcd.com

I'm often at a loss for words. Not so much because of what is said to me (although that happens often enough), but because of what rattles through my brain. Such as:

• Do people understand the many variables that go into food cost?  
• What group benefits most from food companies' work - consumers, stockholders or employees? 
• Are the discoveries and learning that led to the ability to manipulate genes automatically bad?
• What would happen if food companies were required to follow the first principle of bioethics?"
• Why do people who profess to support Slow Food principles become agitated when, dining in the Midwest, for example, their favorite French wine isn't on the menu? 

This is just an example of my tangled net of thoughts. Answers to questions like these seem to involve all kinds of qualifications and there are all those interconnections - consumers may be stockholders; stopping the import of French wine could impact jobs here and in France; manipulating genes is used in healthcare as well as food production; population is growing and there are threats to water, food and air as a result.

So, stumbling on a brief phrase like "So it has come to this" seems to accurately capture what is all too often my internal sigh, shoulder slump and head shake at the situation. Then its back to work. 

In season

Thanks to Wikipedia for the image. A description of rhubarb is in the link below.

It's finally getting around to being the kind of weather than reminds me that I live in a very productive growing area. The question is, will the weather continue to support the kinds of things that are planted around here and have made their homes here for generations? Or will the changing climate cause radical shifts in what can be sustainably grown here? I don't know....worry about yes, but actually know, no.

For now, I'm going to focus on the positives. The first being, the rhubarb is in! And this year rather than make it into a typical crumble dessert or a spread for toast - both of which I grew up with - I decided to try something different. I wanted to taste pickled rhubarb and after looking through several cookbooks, decided to go to the local guru who pickles anything that will stand still long enough - Joe Lindsay of David's Deli.

Without hesitation he shared a recipe that was immediately at his fingertips. And I came home and made a small batch of the best tasting stuff I've had in a long time. Quick and easy. No processing since they are refrigerator pickles. I bow before the master, but if I do say so myself, mine are pretty darn good.

Here's what I did with Joe's recipe that he calls Rhubarb Mother Pickle.

1 lb rhubarb
1 cup vinegar
1 cup water, tea, etc.
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup dried fruit
1 tablespoon main spice
1 teaspoon secondary spice

Cut cleaned rhubarb into desired size pieces. Place in a bowl, sprinkle with salt and let stand at least an hour. The longer the salt is left on, the more water will be removed. (I stirred the rhubarb a couple of times to get the salt to cover all the pieces.)

Drain and rinse the rhubarb and place into jars that can be tightly sealed. Leave a little space between the top of the rhubarb and the lid. Set aside unlidded.

In a small pan, boil together all remaining ingredients. When boiling, carefully add to the jars of rhubarb, covering the rhubarb. Put lids on and set aside to cool. Store in refrigerator.

Most refrigerator pickles will keep about a month.

In my version:
The vinegar was apple cider vinegar infused with tarragon; the main spice was a Royal Curry Powder; and the secondary spice was allspice. The options are endless, but the rhubarb isn't. Give some a try and see what you think. Enjoy the season while you can.

Missing Spring

Looking out to my deck

Its been totally white outside for so long. Inches and inches of snow after snow. It's been gray and cold and windy. A really long, brutal winter.

Suddenly, most of the snow is gone. And its sunny. And blindingly bright for those of us who've been "holed up" for so long. The blue skies are magnetic, drawing you out even though the warmth is deceptive. The brownish green grass and trees, hint at the Spring season, which, if like recent ones, will not be the lingering warm up of my youth, but rather a stumble directly into Summer or a throwback to Winter before a rapid heat up.

Is it wrong to want the more gentle transitions of the seasons of my youth? Is it simply a silly nostalgia for yet another thing long gone? Maybe. Maybe not.

Transitions allow time for adaptation. Whether it's apple trees adapting to increasing warmth and slowly coming into bloom rather than being yanked there because temperatures get too warm too quickly. Transitions called for wardrobes that make sense for a time, then are put away and the next season's wardrobe comes into use. And back in the time of seasonal transitions, things were kept from year to year, as long as they fit, because they were only used for a few weeks here in the Midwest, rather than being needed for extended periods.

Why is adaptation important? Seems to me that without that time, things are more pressured, more stressed. And if that happens, more subject to breaking down because they can't keep up. As true of people as it is of apple trees. People and trees need time to adjust and grow stronger. And people need time to make better decisions. We've seen the result of speeding things up. I'm a firm believer in slowing things down.

Confused Flora

I believe in climate change. I have for a long time. Although I don't have deep technical, scientific knowledge of the issue, I don't know that I need it to see an impact close to home. The potential for radically changing the growing season. In my lifetime.

For several seasons an arrow-head type plant in my front garden has grown far too late into the season after having died out and assumed that the brief cold snap was winter and the sure-to-be brief warm snap justified popping up out of the earth again.

But today, while walking, I saw what is in the picture above. Buds on a nearly dead rose bush, on November 10th. Buds sitting side by side with massive rose hips from dead roses and spotty leaves that appear just about to give up the ghost. Clearly the plant seems pretty confused. If roses are confused it's sad. If food crops are confused, and don't fully complete their growth cycles, then what?

What ever happened to Spring?

I miss Spring. The Spring of my childhood. It was a time that let you shake off the cold of Winter slowly and ease into the warmth that promised to be Summer. It appeared slowly, greening bit by bit with occasional rains and sunny days coaxing sprouts. Now plants are yanked to attention with summery weather in March.

Today the lawn service was here cutting the grass for at least the second time and it's only mid-April in Michigan. The plants that were fooled into budding - grapes, fruit trees and more - were dealt a knock out punch when the weather suddenly turned cold and biting frosts snapped them. No Welches this year. Maybe some wine, but not as much. And it promises to be a difficult year for peaches apples and other fruits that were hit after growing far too much for the season.

I miss Spring. Now we seem to totter endlessly between Winter and Summer. I so hope we don't lose Fall too.