The Salt Marsh in Early Autumn

Sunday, December 4, 2011

The Tao of Rutabaga


I'm in heaven this morning, and I want to tell you why. It started last night as I was going through the new catalog from the Seed Savers Exchange, which is in Decorah, Iowa. Even though my gardening days are limited these days, I love reading about the wonderful plants that can be grown with the heirloom seeds so carefully sheltered by Seed Savers. When I came to page 13 of the catalog, I discovered that Seed Savers is willing to sell some of its heirloom dried cooking beans by the pound–that is, pre-grown. Now that I've ordered my Dutch Brown's, Calypso's, and Christmas Limas, I'm willing to reveal this delicious source to my millions of readers: www.seedsavers.org.

But I'm unable to wait even the short time it will take Seed Savers to ship my beans, so I padded into the kitchen late last night and put up some Great Northern's and dry garbanzos to soak, knowing I would think of something in the morning. I got up well before dawn and started the beans slowly in chicken stock. After coffee and pet chores, I added much of the contents of my vegetable bin: a rutabaga, celery, pearl onions, carrots, kale, and a modest amount of my secret spices. This filled my big brown cast iron Dutch oven, and the house now smells so good I could weep.

I've always thought, for reasons I don't quite understand, that winter is Maine’s natural state. Summer feels like an aberration, when the place gets unnaturally warm and fills up with people, not a few of them a bit strange. In winter, Maine settles into itself: calm and quiet, peaceful and content. One of the best parts about winter here, since we’re not going to discuss black ice and snow shovels, is the availability of magnificent root vegetables at the food co-op. I know that for the next 4 or 5 months I'm going to be making soups and stews, or whatever they are, to provide the perfect warm accompaniment to crisp clear Maine all around me.

So here's my Sunday advice: first of all, you could have an enjoyable time looking at the Seed Savers Exchange website I cited above. Ordering now could extend some hope into the warmth of next spring, especially if you’re not a winter-loving creature. It seems odd to order 2012 seeds before Christmas, but this nonprofit, while well run and staffed, is hardly Burpee–they can run out of the things you want the most, and they fill orders as they are received.

Second, I hope you will consider the humble foods of winter. The way I view it, supported right now by my nostrils–these wintertime foods are just about the best you can eat all year, and they are easy to prepare. I hope you give it a try.

To make the day perfect, I was greeted this morning by 3 offerings from the Hibiscus plant right outside my bedroom. This blossom pictured below is bigger than my outstretched hand.


Saturday, December 3, 2011

Damariscotta River

Jan has confirmed that the boat in this morning's photo was in the Damariscotta River, just below the bridge that separates the town of Newcastle from the town of Damariscotta. You can clearly see the energy of our local tides. And in fact some companies tested out tidal generators, sunk in the river. That's making some local fishermen nervous....

Here's a bonus Jimmy pic: he's clearly worried about the state of my ink cartridge from his careful perusal of the papers just behind him.


I'll post a picture of Jimmy post-bath, as soon as I can pop him in the sink sometime this weekend. And don't worry, more political rants are in the pressure cooker, almost done......

Marsh In The Morning

I so greatly appreciate hearing from people who read this blog. The praise and the criticisms are actually equally enjoyable and helpful. A number of you have asked to read and see more about this part of Maine.

I've been around the world a dozen times, and I could live just about anywhere. If I were wealthy and made decisions only on the grounds of available cuisine, I'd live in Mumbai or Shanghai. But for the terrain, climate, and most especially the quality of the people–no place in the world beats Maine.

I'm going to make an effort to take more pictures, both locally and of the various creatures I watch all day, for example a great blue Heron has been standing right outside my window all week. On the assumption that the bird doesn't read this blog, I'll share an image when I can get one. In the meantime, we have the unfailingly excellent pictures from Jan that he so kindly shares.

Here's one from Jan taken a few weeks back when it was warmer, at our local mid coast oyster Festival. I'm glad Jan took this picture, since I'm among the people who rank the eating of oysters lower than gum surgery.



Here's a salt marsh shot taken through my window this morning, about an hour after sunrise. You can see that we got a pretty good frost last night.



As I took the picture through the window, Jimmy popped up to see what I was doing:


Friday, December 2, 2011

Sheepscot Headlines

Here are two pictures from Jan, the first with his notation that this is what follows the eagles - what you saw here yesterday.

In other local news, some of us are buzzing, because after 258,000  miles, Mailman Glen has retired his old wreck in favor of a very shiny black '06 Honda. Sheepscot has received a definite upgrade - as has Glen.....I'll try for a photo if he makes it here before dark -


Watch Out, Gale!





My good buddy Gordon is well oriented in space. He's not only aware of his location horizontally, like most of us, but also vertically. Every once in a while, I get an excited e-mail from him telling me to look into a certain part of the sky at a certain time of night to see a satellite going by. Speaking as someone who needa a GPS to get out of his own driveway, I'm amazed at Gordon's optimism about me. In fact, I've never seen one of those satellites or spaceships or whatever it is that my friend wants to share. But since he keeps trying, so do I.

I'm sure you've recently seen news articles about another Rover being sent to Mars. This latest vehicle is carrying in its toolkit 3 drill bits that were improperly sterilized. There've been a lot of especially unintelligible press statements from NASA about “miscommunication” as the reason for this oversight. I don't know how one communicates with drill bits, but it’s most interesting to learn of the great lengths our space agency has gone to prevent terrestrial germs from taking root somewhere else in our solar system. For that to happen, Mars would need to be a lot more hospitable to life than it seems to be, but I think NASA’s intention is laudable, because it makes our stance towards our solar system more respectful, and our optimism that something could live on Mars more realistic. I'm not sure why, but I really hope that there is some type of indigenous Martian life.

Miscommunication with drill bits aside, what I'd like to mention here is this story’s implied connection between public policy and scientific practice. Over and over and over again press releases assure us that some new scientific advancement is safe. Sometimes, odds are given that makes a person warning about consequences appear foolish. And when critics of irresponsible science are covered in the press, their attitude is invariably described as “fearful,” not “careful.”

Please notice that I said critics of irresponsible science, which is not the same as critics of science. I've worked hard in my life criticizing the promiscuous use of various agricultural chemicals, and the seemingly thoughtless spewing of genetically engineered substances and organisms throughout our planet. This doesn't make me a Luddite, or anti-science. It makes me someone who thinks about the health and safety of our various ecosystems when substances are introduced before the full import of their interaction is adequately understood.

It's cold comfort that some of the key “genetic advances” turned disasters I warned about in the 1990s have come to pass. What I hope for is a more extensive use of precaution: if you're not sure what you're doing, don't do it–especially when the consequences can’t be recalled.

How does this connect with the Mars Rover? Think about how many nuts and bolts and wires and chips went into constructing this new vehicle and the ship carrying it. There must be many thousands of tiny pieces. These pieces were manufactured all over the USA, then brought together to be assembled, tested many times, and violently propelled off our planet. It seems miraculous that in that almost unimaginably complex process of manufacture, sterilization, and assembly, only 3 small parts were left out of the zone of absolute safety. One is tempted to say, good for NASA. All it took was that one mistake to abrogate the sterility of the entire project.

We can no longer be sure terrestrial organisms haven't been brought to Mars. On the exciting day my friend calls me to say that life has been found on Mars, we won’t know if it isn't instead an escaped Earth organism.

So does the very slight but obviously real risk of missing 3 bits mean that we shouldn't try to explore a neighboring world? This is a poignant question, but what I want to ask is the one inside that question: who gets to decide? The Rover contamination is far away, but other much more immediate risk-benefit calculations are made on behalf of all of us every day, using processes that are obscure and usually impenetrable–and almost always driven by a combination of money and professional opportunism. That is, government and corporate sponsors of scientific research, coupled with careerist scientists, are the ones who decide if they will market Thalidomide or DES to pregnant women, put BPA in baby bottles, or spray organophosphates on our food and all over our countryside. Debate is healthy, and people may sometimes decide to take risks because the benefits are worth it to them. The problem is, risks are often pushed downward on the power gradient, while benefits tend to move upwards. Thus, there are famous examples like New York City’s buses being stored only in poor neighborhoods, with their consequently much higher rates of asthma and other diesel-related illnesses among children.

When I’ve spoken about food-related chemicals, people have almost always challenged whether there really is a health risk for those of us who eat the (usually slightly) contaminated food. Only once or twice in decades of back and forth on this topic has anyone in an audience asked about safety issues for farmers and farm workers, who are in daily contact with much higher concentrations of toxic chemicals. Do I have the right to condemn farmer worker children to high rates of birth defects, learning disabilities and cancer – so I can have my fruit blemish-free, out of season? Well, who has more power in our society – me, or Mexican-American kids in the San Joaquin Valley?

One thing is for sure: science moves much faster than society's ability to create mechanisms to manage it. Furthermore, promoters of science foster what they're doing with the promise of abundant food and cured illness. When my wife was dying from ALS, if someone had told me of a dangerous drug that had been tested on cute puppies and cost an obscene amount of money, would I have signed up for it? You bet. We can't make decisions as a society based on the needs and emotions of individuals, because if we do that, societies will never go near the brake pedal out of understandable but highly perilous kindheartedness.

Let's hope when the new vehicle we’re sending to Mars starts exploring Gale Crater sometime next year, it isn't inadvertently giving our sister planet a staph infection. We can't do much about drill bits on space ships, but as a citizenry there's a great deal we can do to make sure that science and technology don’t leave the realm of decision-making that includes common sense, prudence, and the greater good.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Richard L. Grossman



In the late 1970s, soon after I made the transition from public philanthropy to private, Richard Grossman came to see me. Instead of bringing a proposal for funding, he brought a poem. The poem was a scandalous epic, as he called it, featuring the outlandish antics of several of my colleagues – by name. Richard implied that I could avoid being included in the next iteration of the poem if I would just hand over some money and not require something as pedestrian as a proposal.

My dear friend Harriet tells me that Richard died a few days ago. As Harriet pointed out, there's a respectful obituary in the Washington Post; good for them. For once.

For those of you who inexplicably have been sending blog-related e-mails calling me a “curmudgeon,” not to mention that flimsy friend who compared me to Andy Rooney: my role model in cranky-tude was certainly Richard Lee Grossman. And I say this with the greatest of affection. I suspect Richard’s basic belief was that there is nothing unserious about injustice and suffering. I was never in his presence without being exposed to his outrage, which always included me as an object as well as a subject, if you know what I mean.

I think Richard believed there was something pro-social about being irate at actions and above all corporations he considered to be misbehaving or wrong. I always felt like Richard’s younger brother–he was two years older than me. I too don't think the world needs that much more happy talk; instead, I suspect we could all benefit from a bit of outrage. If you're reading my blog, you're at least slightly tolerant of this point of view, for which I thank you profusely, on my behalf, and that of my sensei Richard.

The other thing I want to tell you about Richard is that aside from the various organizations he founded or worked for in his long career, he was associated with 3 expressions of activism that epitomize what a person could do to make the world a better place. First, he was at the Highlander Center in Tennessee, the place I heard about from my mom when I was a kid, the place where “We Shall Overcome” was written/promulgated, and the place where some of the finest social changers of the 20th century - not the least of which was my late wife Mary J Harrington – hung out in rocking chairs on the porch, and received training in how to be agents of worthy progress.

Richard subsequently became executive director of Greenpeace. One is tempted to add: back when Greenpeace was Greenpeace. There was a time when that organization represented the actual front edge of social change work–that wasn't based on social class or ethnicity–in the world. And Richard ran the place. Or tried to.

Recently, Richard was advising Occupy Wall Street. I don't know the details of that relationship, but I’m not surprised this is how Richard spent his last days. I can only imagine that for OWS Richard was a respected and also enigmatic figure–at least I hope he was.

I may be a curmudgeon, but I hope I'm not maudlin in this blog. I'm mentioning Richard Grossman to you not to inflict my sadness, but rather to share a little bit of this fine man's life–and his example to us all.

The Eagle

For technical reasons I'm unable to bring you the text of the post planned for today. You'll see it tomorrow.

We have quite a few eagles here in the village. Jan as usual has extraordinary photos to show us: