eat local challenge

self explanatory, right? and, after all my years of experience educating others about local, sustainable, ecologically sound agriculture (which is local, even more so than organic), would Amy do such a thing? Maybe i've been reading too much Michael Pollan. Maybe i'm not feeling hard core enough here surrounded by professional downhill mountain bikers and olympian beach volleyball players. or maybe i just want to sink into my watershed a little bit more.

eating a local (which i've defined as within a 100 mile radius of durango, because, HEY, i'm in between two mountain ranges and on the edge of a desert!) is much more of a challenge here than just about anywhere i've lived. during my years in california, i had the great blessing of living in two communities that insisted that at least 80% of our kitchen was stocked with foods that came from within a 60 mile radius of home (slide ranch and green gulch farm also had the benefits of on-site agriculture, so a good chunk of that food only travelled footsteps between earth and mouth). here, the majority of our agriculture is hay and livestock. eating local beef, pork, and buffalo shouldn't be a problem; however, nearly every grain, most dairy, and a large number of my favorite fruits and nuts are entirely out of range. as well as all oils and butters, too. my cooking medium is reduced to pork grease, just like my grandma used for beans and greens...

the last few days i've enjoyed a number of foods that are simply not an option for the next month (i chose the month of august since my garden will be a great source of fresh food, and our farmers' market should be peaking with produce i failed to grow myself, like corn and winter squash). I ate coconut ice cream, chocolate, avocadoes and blueberries, walnuts, macadamia nuts, wild salmon and buttered wheat bread, buttermilk waffles with maple syrup and peanut butter, homemade pesto with parmesan cheese and olive oil. i've sat on the back deck, watching the sunset with a few local beers--because, even though they're brewed locally, ingredients such as hops, wheat, sugar, and barley grow north or east of here by several hundreds of miles.

i'm grateful for my garden, to be sure. in the past few weeks, i've eaten bunches of kale, chard, spinach, cherry tomatoes, basil, cilantro, dill, arugula, mesclun, peas, and most recently, beets. in addition, i'll soon be harvesting potatoes, peppers, beans, radishes, celery and flax. the markets will feed me peaches, goat and cow cheese, eggs and chicken meat, beef and pork. my friend kristi is going to give me some fly fishing lessons...hopefully she'll catch something. the mountains are yielding thimbleberries, raspberries, blackberries, gooseberries, serviceberries, currants, and edible roots like wild carrot, sunchoke, osha and onion. town lots house old apricot, apple and plum trees ripening with fruit, and every corner has its stash of dandelion, lambsquarter, pigweed and purslane. as long as my inner scavenger comes forth with willingness and gratitude, i should eat like a queen.

we'll see how it goes. i've already decided that i do get one completely non-local item--coffee. fortunately, i drink it black.

mountain time

the high country has been calling--we are blessed with a few months where the peaks have emerged from under snow caps, and the colors of the western slope come alive. one of the most distinctive aspects of the mountains here are the sandstone and mineral deposits layered through the southwest geology, which results in so many bright yellow, red and orange striations and crumbly scree summits. the various sediments and the moisture, the cold soil temperatures and high altitude and the short season where the ground is without snow give us, in addition to our colorful earth tones, an eruption of wildflowers in bright pinks, florescent purples, reds, yellows, and blues. in any case, it's imperative to schedule time to be in the mountains right now (i have at least a day a week designated to "mountain" for the next 2 months), because the season is so short and the result of spending even a few hours in this kind of environment has an immeasurable impact on the soul. somehow, all the beauty makes sense. i've discovered that i often have moments when i'm in this beautiful space where my emotional, physical, or psychological pains become equally pronounced--i can gaze at them like flowers, admire their intricacies, and give them over to the wonder of the natural world without the need to make them who i am, despite my desire to pick them all and keep them as my own. the human condition, at high altitude, is obvious but not endemic. i may be just speaking for myself (but i also have a strong feeling that i'm not): there is a heightened awareness of an undeniable presence of something bigger than all we say there is in the mountains. read that how you will, and if you want to experience it, come visit. we'll go for a walk and every cell in your body will sing the same song, and you'll know what i mean.

here's a few shots from a recent hike up engineer mountain:

elephant head flower, amongst other lovely specimens


the peak of engineer, in the mist of a summer storm

one must be prepared for all kinds of weather (and being assertive in color doesn't hurt)


it's often the case that the clouds will clear. regardless, it's always a beautiful day....

monsoon

the season is upon us: nearly every afternoon, a storm accumulates in the peaks, and taunts us with the possibility of rain, hail, sleet, wind, and temperature drops. i love it. the skies are so dynamic within their own right, and then they change the earth's appearance as well. everything glows, for one, and green eminates from each object as if it were the true color of all things. yay for rain and yay for storms. they speak of revolution...

bridging the gap

okay, so. i'm super lame about blogging recently. do i apologize? yes, and i build a bridge. maybe we can cover the distance simply this way.

life is good. the monsoons are upon us. hopefully they'll drive away the plague of locusts (okay, grasshoppers--they're the same family, if anyone cares!) that has impacted old farmlands around us. the rain and hail and overcast skies bring many gifts, you see. especially for fire signs, like me, who see the long days of sunshine as a calling to do any and everything possible to maximize daylight! the gray says, 'curl up in a blanket, rest a little," and i know more than one person who might benefit from heeding that statement.