mud

English 380 met at the Crops Unit. I arrived on my bike after riding in the cool wind. I forgot my jacket, but I knew I could survive; I've felt worse winds on my skin. We began our journey headed out through the orchards where I saw almond, walnut, and avocado trees growing. There were two rows of almonds growing, one where fruit was budding, and the other with flowers in full bloom. Professor Marx explained the intricacy of pruning; it is an art. Looking at the detail of the flowers and smelling the buds was closer than I've ever been to a growing almond. Chris suggested that I smell the almond tree's flower. Its smell was so sweet, and it's color of white with a subtle pink made its appearance soft and warm. The rows of these trees lined the orchard with blooms and soon nuts to be enjoyed for their nutrition and distinct flavor. I've decided that my backyard will someday have these fruitful trees covering its landscape; at least I hope that's the case.

As we continued to walk, the soil grew moist as we got closer to Stenner Creek. Sycamores lined the water with their branches spanning and intertwining with other tree varieties. A red-tailed hawk flew above searching for food below. The sun felt warm at this particular spot. The breeze was subtle, and I felt a sense of contentment walking with my fellow peers, exploring the vast land of Cal Poly.

We continued and entered the organic farm. This is were the journey became more of an adventure. The mud started to trap us, creating each step heavier than the prior. I wore the wrong shoes this morning with gaps in the heal where more mud resided. We made it over to the organic farm; the workers were very informative in the process of this farm. The land these crops grew on has only been farmed for 2 years. They practice a rotation of the crops; letting one section rest while the other section is being harvested.

As I looked out over the crops, beautiful shades of maroon, forest green, lime green, yellow, and many others were layered throughout the rows. There was such order to the plants; it reminded me of the I used to grow with my father except large scale, where green beans grew next to tomatoes which grew next to squash. The diversity in the crop is something so foreign to my eyes beyond my own garden. Growing up in the Midwest, most fields harvested corn and only corn. Acres and acres of corn typically sold and processed to make high fructose corn syrup to add to Coca Cola or Trix. Soybeans are also a large crop in Minnesota. Living in California, I have been fascinated that if drive 5 miles, I can see 10 different varieties of crops out my window. Such diversity I am not accustomed to. This organic farm was this experience multiplied. Seeing kale grow next to leeks, which grow next to beets, which grow next to lettuce. I just wanted to stand and gaze and recognize all the different varieties of vegetables growing, but the walk continued.

The mud got deeper, so I decided to follow other students lead and take off my shoes. This moist soil felt refreshing in between my toes. My feet loose their callus in the winter months when they are always protected by shoes. When summer comes, they grow tuff; they are ready to run down the street over pebbles and twigs with enough protection to keep my senses from pain. Today, my soft feet felt the rough terrain I was exposing them to, so I washed off my shoes and covered my bear paws.

This walk was full of action. We continued and arrived at our next stop to observe a cow liking her newborn calf. I saw this animal’s placenta, and the fluid that was covering its skin. What a magnificent site.

We arrived at the CSA pickup site. Malarie explained to us in greater detail the process of purchasing organic vegetables grown on the land. Animals were wandering throughout from goats to roosters. There was a turkey lying contently in the grass. It allowed students to caress its feathers without a flinch. I was greatly impressed with a small house made of hay barrels, stucco, and mud allowing a cool temp in the summer and a warm temp in the winter. I am continually impressed with Cal Poly students' minds and their creativity.

This was a beautiful day. The wind blew, I felt goosebumps, I saw a greater glimpse to the vast land of Cal Poly, and now I am in a warm library allowing my fingers to unthaw from the cool temperature. This campus has so much to offer.

pause

I sit on my porch. The rain slowly drips down around me. I see my breath as I exhale I forget it's there until I enter the cold. People walk with their hats trying to protect their eyes from the wet. A pool of water overtakes the base of my driveway and soft drops bounce leaving a ring behind. A bird flies and lands on the electrical pole in front of my house as it chirps gaily. The sun comes out, and I see that the M on Madonna is dry.

I think rain stirs creativity in the soul. It brings a lot of emotions to me, some of sorrow, some of joy that life will be spurred from its presence.

The magnolia out front of my house has fresh dew on its leaves. The flowers are still blooming, not hiding from the midday rain. They must feel joy themselves knowing that they will be able to bloom yet another day. Their fuchsia color is fresh to my eyes. Some pedals have turned a stale shade of brown, yet some are just popping out of their blossom for their first site at the sun, if the clouds did not hide it. The clouds have moved east bringing the rain with them and leaving my magnolias and me a hint of sun, and a deep blue sky. I appreciate the vivid color of the sky more so when I don't see it for a few days. Distance makes the heart grow fonder they say. My heart is fonder.

It's funny when people drive by so fast in front of my porch, for my road is only a block in between 2 stop signs. I wonder where they are trying to get in such a hurry that they need to speed only to slow to a screeching halt to wait for traffic to go by. There goes another one. One night, I was in my room, and I heard a huge screech and screaming and chatter about outside of my window. I looked to see, and a young man was getting off the ground trying to pick up his crotch rocket that had skidded across the road 20 feet. He was cruising down my road well over 50 miles per hour when he lost control and flew off his bike. He was okay, his bike was scratched, and it left me pondering. The need for speed, excitement, and trill runs so many people actions. This thought made me think how I myself need to slow down and have an excuse to. What is it in human brains that we need to go 10 miles faster than the speed limit just to arrive at our destination 3-7 minutes faster. It's almost as if we're on fast-forward. Someone press the pause button please. I need to catch my breath.

In Minnesota, I remember feeling a pause when the snow would downpour, and it would leave me trapped in my house. I never got a snow day being home schooled; I was jealous of the normal kids who listened to the radio and hoped their school was concerned enough to close down the school for the day for the safety of the children. My desk in the basement was of no danger for me to travel to, but just knowing that if I was a normal child, and I did travel to school, I wouldn't have to go. Jealousy would infest my thoughts, but I would get over it after I did my studies and put on my snow-gear and would lie in the snow. It's funny how weather can cause a change in lifestyle. I do think that the rain is a pause button, or at least a slow motion button. It's easy to make life busy and complicated; when it rains, I assess if I want to sacrifice getting wet riding my bike to that destination, or waiting for the bus to come. More often than not, what seemed so important is put into perspective.

I stop, breathe, listen, and absorb.

A few days later: I have to explain the funny situation of riding my bike home in the rain.

Sunday, February 19 was a sunny morning. I wore tights, a skirt, my yellow sweater, and moccasins to church that morning. I left my bike at school the night before because it was raining and hailing so hard, I could not ride home safely. I took the bus to school from church, which was a funny experience in itself to get on this empty bus to go to school on a Sunday. The sky was full of action; the sun shone bright. When arriving at school, I decided to play piano in the Music Building for a few minutes before riding home. When I came out, soft drops ascended on my head. I started laughing. By the time I arrived at my bike, the rain was falling harder and more viscous, but I could not leave it there one more day. So I decided to get on and head home. Students walking to do their weekend studying were laughing at me. I rode on and made it to the top of California, when the rain settled and hail emerged from the angry clouds. This is when my laughter grew louder. For who is in a hailstorm on their bike? At least I had my helmet on. I decided to cruise through puddles because I was already as wet as I was going to be, I mine as well have fun. I finally arrived home safe and sound. My roommate Chloe spotted me entering the driveway, and she greeted me with strong laughter as she saw me drenched. It's fun to be in the rain, and a little hail doesn't hurt. Tomato soup is good.

wake

wet face
hide from air under bag
hat on
feet in mukluks
campfire nearby
people laughing, go to sleep...
laying
stars above
waking to moisture
sleep
wake
sleep, roll over
wake
air is fresh
sun peaks
beams of warmth
feeling courageous
sit
ache

learning to eat

I am very challenged by Wendell Berry's The Pleasures of Eating essay. I grew up with a garden, watching my green beans grow, so I can see an appreciate his stance on the appreciation found when actually harvesting and participating in the cultivation and growth of food. This essay was helpful for me to pinpoint specific areas of my life, as a city dweller, that can positively affect the food system. His list of ways to participate is as follows:



1) Participate in food production to the extent that you can.
I hope to grow a garden when I own my own land. My roommates participate in CSA gardening; they help cultivate, wash, and pack vegetables for the program. I am encouraged by their participation and am considering joining their efforts next year. I can grow basil in my kitchen window, but I just tend to forget the essential watering step of keeping plants. Hopefully that will change as I age.
2) Prepare your own food.
This is at times difficult being a busy college student, but it is possible.
3) Learn the origins of the food you buy, and buy the food that is produced closest to your home.
This is also at times difficult, but I find the more I am conscious regarding where my food is produced, the more I appreciate it. I enjoy buying produce/vegetables at the farmers market from the Cal Poly organic farm. Their carrots are so juicy and sweet.
4) Whenever possible, deal directly with a local farmer, gardener, or orchardist.
5) Learn, in self-defense, as much as you can of the economy and technology of industrial food production.
6) Learn what is involved in the best farming and gardening.
I am excited to learn.
7) Learn as much as you can, by direct observation and experience if possible, of the life histories of the food species.

Learning is the main theme running through every step of the process, and I am looking forward to learning throughout life ways to implement these steps into my life. As Berry states,

Eaters, that is, must understand that eating takes place inescapably in the world, that it is inescapably an agricultural act, and that how we eat determines, to a considerable extent, how the world is used.

I want to be considerate of the way I use the world. I want to live a life appreciative of my blessings and thankful to God, my provider, for taking care of my needs. Food is essential, and it is pleasurable. I appreciate how Wendell explains that more pleasure is found in eating when understanding of the foods lifespan that took place. Thinking is good for me.

silk

The glisten of light flutters back and forth on it: moving, swaying with the subtle breeze. Its purpose is to catch whatever might fly by. It expands five feet wide and six feet tall protruding in all directions it can find a place to attach. It hides than reappears but never reveals its entire identity, it's too smart for that. It connects to the branch of a young tree, to a potted plant, then crosses diagonally to the porch beam holding lattice above. The more I look around me, the more these silk strands overtake my view. Near and far they wave back and forth, wooing in, trapping, entangling, enticing, tricking, and sticking. The sunbeams slide back and forth as if it's found its very own jungle gym. Birds laugh at their inferior flying friends knowing they are free from the trap these spun strands create. What is death to the trapped brings life to the builder.

absorb

The hills in front of me cause great appreciation. The variety in the waves and folds, subtle layers of stratification make their face behind what looks like a green blanket covering the ridges. This spotted forest appears as if clouds are hanging high casting their superior shadow, but the sky is clear. The hills look as smooth as frosting applied with a steady hand to be appreciated by the inheritor.

I see endless directions my feet could traverse, every angle would provide a unique experience, but a similar thread would weave throughout every adventure. Although nature brings unique experiences in every location, it is constant. The wind blows the same without considering who it is drafting upon; the cool breeze that tickles my face takes me to a place of contentment.

Explore. Discover.. Rest... Absorb... This is a natural progression. Like the budding of a flower; a sequence needs to occur in order for true beauty to be revealed. I believe this is my favorite thing: to first explore and to find a place away from civilization, something that I trick myself into believing I have seen before any other eye, to sit and allow that treasure to soak in and bring peace. I experience God through his creation; I see his face all around. His glory is shown. Drinking this in brings peace to my emotions like a tonic.

If I were to travel around the circumference of the base of this range, I would see it's different angles, different faces, different shadows, but I choose to sit. It is odd to find a place of true silence, not in the sense that my ears are free from vibrations of waves, but manufactured noise by human power is ceaseless. Now all I hear are the chirps of far away birds; this noise reminds me of spring when the Blue Jays would start their call declaring that the death has passed and life is at hand . A bug just flew by.

descend

The hike up to Rockslide Ridge began at the Cal Poly Horse unit. I got off the bus at 10:00, and had 15 minutes max to traverse across campus to arrive before the group left. On the bus, my stomach was upset and my head started pounding; I was afraid that I wasn't going to make it up the hill. Despite my fears, I made it to the Horse Unit in the nick of time.

We walked. I looked at the land, and was reminded how blessed I am to study at Cal Poly with such a playground around me. The land seemed to interact with us with birds soaring high and the wind blowing ever so soft. We arrived at the _ where the sun glistened on the soft ripples of water. I looked down and saw a tiny flower growing at my feet. It took all the self-control in me not to pick it and press it for my enjoyment.

Reaching the Rockslide Ridge, I had the option to continue upward, journal, or descend on my own. My stomach was still churning and I was dizzy, so I decided to sit and absorb my surroundings. I sat on a rock not too far from where the other students ascended. I could hear their voices as they continued to climb growing fainter and fainter in the distance. Time drifted by as I sat and felt the wind across my back.

I was without a watch, but I thought it was time for me to find my way back. I decided I wanted to find a different way back then the way we came. So I went west and Poly Cannon was on my left; If not for the barbed wire fence, I would have descended towards the fascinating structures. I continued to walk and walk until I came to quite a steep cliff. I wasn't sure where my feet should take me, but I certainly could not turn back to go home the way I came. There were some people down below seeming so small, almost like toy soldiers walking so slowly.

I turned to the right and began my decent. Fear at times overtook me; the slope was very steep. I came to this spot next to a huge rock where I stood for a few minutes. Suddenly, out of the bushes, a mother deer jumped out and charged down the deep slope. It was almost as if I was watching an Olympian skier exit their holding box to charge the steep slope below. She ran with control and without fear. I wondered if I had startled her and caused her to reveal her presence. I stood there reflecting and watching the doe at the bottom of the hill. She stood there and watched me, at least I thought she was watching me, but not 5 minutes later, a fawn charged from this bush after waiting for minutes till the right moment came for him too to expose himself. It occurred to me that the mother was waiting for her child in anticipation to ensure that he would make it safe next to her. They ran into the landscape side by side.

I continued my decent somewhat sliding down the hill to try to find the path with least resistance. My journey became very familiar when to my right was the very rock that peered down on me just a week before as I was traveling the path less traveled. And sure enough, the yucca plants all seemed so familiar. It was like I was driving home and arrived in my neighborhood. I had no time to sit and catch up, so I said my hellos and continued on me way.

My feet brought me closer and closer to the road, until I crossed the creek and climbed the stairs to arrive safely on Poly Cannon Road.