birds in the mist and other beautiful things

I have these images of beauty in my head from the week. For whatever reason, the sort of spiritual beauty of the slough punctures me. Who knows why, but as I walk, as I drive, as I look around, the sun breaking through the fog, the silhouette of birds on the water. All works magic.

I first started writing and posting here as an outlet, a way to reflect, to compile, to order, to think about what I was doing out there. At times I try to be realistic and methodical with concrete examples of what I'm doing. But for me, for who I am, I find I think more in terms of spirit. Not in any religious sense. It's a reflection of the meaning of what I do.

synergy

During a practice facilitation session with fellow Slough folk and some Monterey Bay Sanctuary friends, those of us present took part in a small but meaningful activity. We were asked to write down one word we would say to a child five generations from now about how we felt about the Slough. One by one, we spoke our word and the words came together on one page. I felt quite moved by this activity and took each and every one of those words and rearranged them in a poem.

explore
magnificent diversity
clams rich sustenance thriving
spectacular sunset
amazing spiritual treasure
diverse precious natural habitat
changing
changing relationships
environment answers hope

manzanita berry cider and how we use our wild lands

From berry to cider, the process became much more than making something to drink.

A special batch of manzanita berry cider was made for the Chuck Haugen Conservation Fund annual picnic. Berry picking was a community affair on Friday, September 11 with eight people (I'm taking the picture) spending half a day out on beautiful Fort Ord public lands collecting.


Some of us went back to Marina and spent a few more hours sorting through to clean the berries. What a relief because it would've taken me five times as long to do it myself and it would never have been as much fun. Since all the berries were clean, I could spend Saturday making cider. Note - it's called cider but is simply juice from the berry. Simple. Refreshing.

I put the clean berries, one cup at a time, in my little cuisinart to grind.

Small bits of yerba buena were in the mix and the aroma of the crushed berries with a little of the herb was sweet and light.

The dry berries are powdery and at this time of year the berries still on the plant, if you can find them, are perfect for the cider. The ground berries were mixed with water and left to sit. I tried cold water and hot. The berries mixed with cold water sat for 9-12 hours in the refrigerator and yielded a liquid much more clear than the hot. The hot water treatment included boiling the water and pouring it over the crushed berries, letting it sit for one hour before straining. The hot water cider was darker.

The taste of each was distinct. The cold water cider was light, tart, and sweet. The hot water cider was a bit more mellow without the bite, with a taste that wasn't bitter but darker or "more woody" as Eric Van Dyke put it. Most people, myself included, preferred the cold water cider. I did sweeten a hot water batch with agave nectar. This was a good addition but one I would not make with cold water cider.

OK. Enough about the cider. Let's get to how we use our wild lands. This process of collecting, cleaning, grinding, and extracting the juice, throws me deep into thought about the modern use of wild places. The history of California has changed so much over the last 20,000 years. Understatement, I know. But our management of the land has drastically changed throughout this time. Right now at the Elkhorn Slough for example, we don't harvest wild plants and animals for food and materials for household use. Why? Different goals. Would people even be interested in this type of use? California Department of Fish and Game owns the land that is the Reserve. Would they even allow such a different type of management strategy on this land? Could I connect with a local community to even brainstorm ideas on a more sort of indigenous management regime?

It's been the rule that whoever owns or occupies the land makes the decisions about what is to be done with that land. Plants and animals have to adapt to that - whatever land use is currently being employed. Or they die or move out and others move in. People, the general public, may or may not know what's going on and may or may not care. We don't need to get into modern land use policy and public participation here. But I do want to explore this subject - go a bit further and expand our ideas of management - think creatively about our goals.

timing weed removal

In order to best time weed removal, I need to know when a plant will set viable seed. I need to know how much material I can leave on site and when to bag it and haul it out. Needless to say, it's much more work to bag and haul then to cut and leave.

The bull thistle pictured above, even though barely beginning to flower, already has seed inside the head that can mature and become viable. But I found out through seed growing trials that if the bull thistle is in bud without any purple showing, the seed does not mature to be viable.

Italian thistle has a more forgiving timeline. Even though some purple shows, the seed inside has proven not viable when dried and subsequently sown in the greenhouse. Therefore it can have a bit of purple tinge to the opening flower but it can't be too far along.

Ripgut brome proves to be the trickiest so far. It can look very immature with soft milky seeds. But when dried and sown in the greenhouse, the seed germinates within a few days.

I'll continue to collect weed seed from different species at different maturities in different parts of the Reserve to grow in the greenhouse. This will directly inform my weed management strategies. I need all the help I can get.

reflection on one year

One year ago today I started my new job as Stewardship Specialist at the Elkhorn Slough. Really I'm a land steward and nursery manager. My actual title doesn't explain very much about what I do. And on that first day at work I remember feeling overwhelmed. Of course. It's 1500+ acres, brand new greenhouse nobody wants to step foot inside, new faces, new place to live. All very new. I remember going back to my little room in Moss Landing and wondering if I had made the right decision . . . leaving Oakland and coming back home to a very small town.

One year later I know I made the right decision. So thankful for the quirky people who work here; all so different. The greenhouse cranks out plants. The volunteers come back time and again. The quiet times working the land. The birds and the lizards and the deer and the mice and rats and the bees. The connection to a place. It's all happening in a good way here.

It has taken a year to get a sense of this place. The plants and the soil. The paperwork and the commitments. The wind and the fog. The giant hearts. The singing maintenance man. Center of the Universe? I can't do it. I can't say it. But it is magic.

growing in the greenhouse

The grasses sown in the greenhouse a few weeks ago are taking off and growing well. I counted every one that had germinated. I needed to know if we were on target for the 3200. We're not quite there yet. But we will be. I'm determined.

Some species, grown for other restoration projects around the Reserve, completely tanked. None of the deerweed (Lotus scoparius) came up, despite the hot water treatment followed by a 12 hour soak. Worked last year. Hmmm. Tidy tips (Layia platyglossa); 3 plants from 294 seeds, give or take a seed. Last year we had so many we didn't know what to do.

Thankfully our ceanothus (Ceanothus cuneatus rigidus) is popping up despite our almost missing the seeds this year. And all our other plants we sowed are doing well. I suppose it's those few that don't do well that I think about more.

All in all it's a thriving, vibrant place, the greenhouse. I played Maria Callas for the seedlings today. Then some 70's Nigerian funk. It was also for the lonely lizard I named Azul.