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Our dear friends Chris and Deb had us over for dinner recently. Chris and Deb are two of the most generous people we know; we love visiting them because they are both passionately engrossed in the pleasures of living things--be it growing obscure breeds of tomatoes, acquiring unusual carnivorous plants, or fussing on their hilarious, lovable dogs. We spend every Fourth of July with them, mainly because it's the most alive place in the world on the most alive day of the year. Their wraparound porch in the evening is my idea of heaven: cool breezes from the Delaware, comfy chairs, grape vines, good wine, angel's trumpets, soft music, dim lanterns, wayward possums, and delicious food. Chris is a master of the grill. He coaxed a medley of delicate flavors and textures from a lean beef shoulder: the meat was just the right shade of pink, which allowed the subtleties in the taste come through. The grilled zucchini tasted like fried plantains, sweet but hearty. Chris and Deb are also very well-versed in the cultivation of heirloom tomatoes: they have a patch of very healthy, gargantuan plants behind their house. We gorged ourselves on their bumper crop of Purple Calabash coupled with fresh mozzarella. The Purple Calabash is an extremely rich, complex taste: equal parts sweet and savory. Very pretty fruit, too. It's my new favorite breed. Any of you have a favorite tomato? What do you look for in a tomato, and what breeds would you recommend? |
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So in honor of Earth Day (yes I know, it's a hippy-dippy faux holiday, but the sentiment is in the right place), post a photo of a favorite place or thing that lives on this Earth. Go! |
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 ( More pics ) As seen in this Ihabitat article: "R&Sie Architects designed the aptly-named ‘Lost in Paris‘ house for an ‘urban witch’ who feeds the house through 300 glass-blown pods. A potion of rainwater and plant nutrients nourishes 1200 ferns drop-by-drop throughout the year. The houseplants are entirely hydroponic, and completely engulfing the 1400 square foot concrete home. The blanket of ferns protects the house from outside elements and regulates its inside temperature, all the while adding life and freshness to the neighborhood." |
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  Our good friend Bill generously invited us to The Cloisters this Sunday. Perched upon a promontory overlooking the Hudson, The Cloisters is a world unto itself, a temporal oasis in the midst of one of the most urbanised spots on Earth. Bill had tickets to see Benjamin Bagby's sold out performance of Beowulf, which was performed in the old Anglo-Saxon dialect. Bagby accompanied himself on a six-string lyre, whose reconstruction was based on the remains of an instrument excavated from a seventh-century nobleman’s grave in Oberflacht, south of Stuttgart. The performance was held in the Fuentidueña Chapel, which suggests the dimensions of the ancient hall described in the saga. Fascinating to hear the tale told in a dialect approximating its original tongue, and Mr. Bagby breathed life into it with great verve and aplomb. I was particularly mesmerized by the qualities of the language as it is spoken and sung; it seemed to have more Norse than Germanic qualities, but slightly softer than either, more slippery. One felt as though he were hearing his own ancestors speak--provided of course one's ancestors were, like mine, of the horny-helmeted variety. I had a couple petty criticisms, but it seems rather silly and churlish to repeat them here, so I won't. From a purely technical standpoint, such a thing is quite an achievement, and is probably as close to experiencing the half-sung bardic saga as one is likely to get. Like any good bard, Mr. Bagby took us out of ourselves, painted pictures of gray, shimmering seas, cold black bogs and barren coastlines, and that is no small feat when armed with nothing but one's voice and an old lyre. Bards are rather thin on the ground these days, so we owe our man Bill a big dish of lasagna, catsitting or something equally nice. The thing I love most about The Cloisters is the intimacy of the environs, but also the interweaving of outside and inside, gallery and garden. Alongside the art and artifacts are potted plants. I can't think of another art museum where this is done. It's wonderful--one feels as though they are walking through a medieval illuminated manuscript. So: espaliers! I'm fairly sure the one is a pear, but not sure of the other. Apparently, both of these trees have been carefully maintained for about a half century. The Cloisters specializes in medieval art, but espaliers are not considered a Medieval practice: espaliers are thought to have become common in the Renaissance. But who cares when the effect is this lovely, even in late winter? The idea is not only to make the tree more decorative, but also to force the tree to yield a higher amount of fruit. These were especially useful in small gardens, where space is limited. Usually a dwarf fruit tree is grafted onto a regular tree's stump, thus getting the water and nutrient intake of a regular tree but the controllable growth and earlier fruiting of a dwarf. Grafting and pruning are what eventually gives this unusual shape. If instant gratification is your thing, then this kind of gardening is definitely not for you. Bonsai enthusiasts might like to give it a go. Next: Medieval pinup girls! |
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 I'm crackers over this structure by Renzo Piano. This structure is unique in that the context which gave rise to it is found nowhere else. The design is sensitive to its natural setting, and the ancient traditions of the Kanak people. It espouses modernity, not mere modernism. From Galinsky.com: "The Centre Culturel Tjibaou, dedicated to Jean-Marie Tjibaou who died in 1989 while leading the fight for his country’s autonomy from the French government, is devoted to the cultural origins and search for identity of the native Kanak people of New Caledonia and the South Pacific. In the native tongue of Jean-Marie Tjibaou, pije language, it is also known as Ngan Jila - meaning cultural center. "The Center itself is similar to that of the villages in which the Kanak tribes live; a series of huts (or case in French) which distinguish the different functions and hierarchies of the tribes (les tribus) and a central alley along which the huts are dispersed. More specifically, the Cultural Center is composed of three ‘villages’ made up of ten ‘Great Houses’ of varying sizes and functions (exhibition spaces, multimedia library, cafeteria, conference and lecture rooms). The ‘Great Houses’ are linked by a long, gently curving enclosed walkway, reminiscent of the ceremonial alley of the traditional Kanak village. "The identity of the Kanak is not only reinforced through the form of the building but also through its relationship with the natural landscape. Located on a peninsula between the storm-tossed Pacific Ocean and a calm lagoon the design of Renzo Piano takes advantage of the prevailing winds from the ocean side through its system of natural ventilation. Horizontal wood slats composed of iroko wood (a type of wood that is impervious to rot and can withstand cyclone-force winds) of the outer façade on the ocean side filter the wind into a second layer of skin, an inner façade of glass louvers which open or close according to wind speed, allowing wind to flow through the building for passive ventilation. The double layer of skin also filters the warm air upward functioning similar to a chimney. "The sound and feel of the wind is something that can only be experienced by being there and seems to transcend any kind of technological terms or mechanisms. It is a feeling of being inside, yet outside at the same time; of being protected yet still close to nature. "The Center is also composed of various exterior spaces which further explore the relationship of the Kanak culture to nature and the landscape; a Kanak pathway which winds through the dense natural vegetation, traditional ceremonial grounds of the Kanak with traditional huts, an outdoor auditorium and residences for visiting artists, lecturers, scholars and students. These spaces, as well as the main building, integrate themselves and take advantage of the natural beauty of the site." |
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My friend Brooke is hosting a hippie potluck gathering and lecture at her place, which is open to all. Just passing this along to my fellow Philadelphians: Potluck brunch and living kitchen lecture with Nance Klehm Topics include worm wrangling, tree grafting, bread rising, wild crafting, chicken caring, milk curding, solar ovening, juice fermenting, urban foraging, medicine making, veggie pickling, fruit jamming, flower spiriting, seed saving, plant propagating, poo composting, shelter building, and more. Nance Klehm is an artist, landscape designer, and urban ecologist. She grows and forages much of her own diet. Her 'neighborhood orchard' involves neighbors growing on various urban sites ("vacant" lots, back yards, transportation corridors…) and bartering between one another for services and food. She designed and manages a large scale, closed-loop vermicompost project at a downtown homeless shelter where cafeteria food waste becomes 4 tons of worm castings a year which in turn is used as the soil that grows food to return to the cafeteria. As part of an on-going residency in Wendover UT, she uses decomposition, filtration and fermentation to transform post-consumer materials generated onsite (solid and liquid human waste, grey water from sinks and shower, food, cardboard and paper) as well as waste materials gathered offsite (casino food waste and grass clippings, horse manure from stables, spent coffee grounds) into biologically rich soil. The resulting waste-sponge systems sustain or aid: a habitat of native species of plants, digestion of the high salinity of the indigenous soils and the capturing, storing and using of precipitation. Her regular column "weedeater' appears in ARTHUR Magazine. She has worked and shown in Mexico, Australia, Canada, England, Denmark, the Caribbean and the United States. This winter she is working on a regional land-based education project in Devon, UK. |
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 Where was I? Oh yes--back to the Olympic! So the next day, Seyta and I returned with mushroom afficionado friends Ellen, Tom and Jonas, who came up from Portland the night before. We were a rather sinister bunch, skulking through the dim, mossy forest with gnomish hats, baskets and knives. Judging by the huge meal at day's end, we'd had an epic day of mushroom hunting. ( Tons of freaky fungi beyond the cut ) |
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Good for making nutty, hearty pancakes, apparently. If anyone tries this, let me know how it comes out! |
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 "A new generation of dirigibles is being considered by governments and private companies as the price of fuel rises and concern for the environment grows. (...) The new dirigibles benefit from new materials and means of propulsion, as well as entrepreneurs who are taking another look at the behemoths of the air." NYT |
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I adore May, and I cannot help but to be in very high spirits upon its arrival. The thought of having weeks of blooming plants and awakening life ahead fills me with joy. Around here, Beltane is known as Moth Day, the day when we take our saturniid cocoons out of cold storage and into the cage so they may eclose over the next month. Let the eclosion parties of May begin! ~W |
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 ( A rather nice way to end the year... )  ( There's a monkey in here... ) A happy and healthy new year to all of you, my friends. May you all have your fill at the wells of joy, light and love. With warmest wishes, W |
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 Saturday afternoon found me at the Morris Arboretum, just outside of Philadelphia. The place was all but deserted, but I came for one reason: The Dorrance H. Hamilton Fernery. Built in 1899, it is the only remaining freestanding Victorian fernery in North America. The unique glass roof eventually fell into serious disrepair and was replaced in the 1950's with a conventional sloping roof, but in 1994 the fernery roof was finally restored to its original curvilinear glory. Its gracious form is set into the sloping hillside like a green gem in a belly dancer's navel. With the dramatic sunset light raking across the hill, I was compelled to peer into the glass canopy, whose condensation-obscured view tantalizingly hinted at the lush vegetation within.  ( Come inside... ) ~W |
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 More about them here. Upon first glance, they seem quite the thing. I appreciate the general sentiment and the groovy space age design, but isn't this gilding the lily? I mean, won't a mass of plants near a fan or breezy window be more elegant, attractive, effective and less wasteful? And why must everything--even living things--be a kind of machine? Seems a very twentieth-century way of looking at things, which is how we got into this mess in the first place. Instead, we should be figuring out how to make our machines into specimens. Besides, I prefer to have my plants out in the open, where I can enjoy them while they purify my air. No need to apologize for their decorative aspects--why impoverish ourselves so needlessly? ~W |
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The greenhouses at 
