Dreaming in Color

A preview of my dreams tonight...

Sweet dreams.

Home

I made it back from DC without incident, though the trip home seemed eternal. I had the pleasure of flying, for the first time, in both snow and rain during the course of this trip. In fact, not to sound crude, but my first thought when I got off the plane in DC was, "Wow, rain and black people. I haven't seen these things for awhile." Boulder sees little of either. But there was a couple of inches of snow coming down when I returned. I didn't feel like I was quite ready to leave DC, but it sure did feel good coming home. I like being able to see mountains 50 miles away with nothing but rolling grasslands between us. As amazing as the mega cities of the East are, my heart lives in the West.

This weekend I made easy rounds to the farms that grow my food, milk and yogurt from Taft Hill Dairy, eggs from Jay Hill Farm. I felt more present than usual and the landscape felt more intensely beautiful and grand. I took in the sights and sounds and smells of the Rockies and I was reminded of the first time I laid eyes on them. I like the slower pace of life out here and the open space. A few days in the city makes me appreciate it all the more.

I also picked up and delivered 800 pounds of organic oats that were donated to the Rocky Mountain Horse Rescue. (I received a gift of 50 pounds of these organic oats for myself! That should last us at least a year.) The "ranch" where I picked up the oats is owned by an attorney and his wife (though they weren't the oat donors.) The "ranch" is breathtaking, with sweeping views of the plains, of Boulder, and of the snow-capped peaks beyond. The "ranch" is nearly 30 acres of golden grassy hills with excellent soil and water rights and easy access to Boulder. I have to put "ranch" in quotes because I was told by a woman who works there that the owners are not "horse people" and pay her to completely care for and give attention to their horses which are never ridden. The owners apparently aren't "garden people" either, and on their acreage sits a mansion that looks like it was plucked right out of a million dollar suburb in any generic city. There is an organic garden that the hired hand created, though the owner is thinking about installing a tennis court in that sunny spot. Not that he's a tennis player, but you know, what else is he going to spend his money on? They already had the old barn moved (yes, the whole thing) from its historic location to a less than ideal spot so they could build their own private fitness center with a superb view of the mountains where the barn once stood. What does it matter if the barn is now cold and drafty? After all, they're not "horse people" and they might want to see mountains when they glance up from the exercise bike now and then. (They have 30 dreamy acres on which to exercise yet they build a whole building around an exercise bike. The whole thing made me sick. How does this happen? A lawyer buys 30 acres of absolutely prime farmland in Colorado then buries it under a behemoth house, relegates the horses to a drafty barn shoved to the windy side of the hill which are only there in the first place for his extremely occasional amusement, and is considering paving over the organic garden with a tennis court. And then there's me, who would practically worship a few acres of good dirt and water so I could grow nutritious, local food to feed myself and my community and live lightly on the land, but am stuck in an apartment in the middle of the city because farmland costs a literal fortune because of all the lawyers who aren't "horse people" buying it up and plopping their mansions on it.

Non-farmers should not be allowed to have farms. Period. That is to say, you shouldn't be allowed to have agriculturally productive land if you plan to do nothing with it but grow mansions (or suburban sprawlplexes for that matter). It's a little like clear cutting a National Park so the wealthy can have fancy hardwood cabinetry. We all lose because of the greed of the few.

This is wrong, wrong, wrong. America is losing on average 2 acres of farmland EVERY MINUTE, 24 hours a day due to development. That's over 20,000 acres every single week. That's enough land for over 600 good sized farms. EVERY WEEK. Think about that. Colorado is a great place to see this. Drive through the "country" in many places around here and you'll see rows and rows of cookie cutter houses and condo complexes along the hilltops. They form walls around the remaining farms like armies of pre-fabricated second rate housing for wannabe nobility. (I particularly love it when they bulldoze the farm, install 500 identical houses, and name the monstrosity something like "Wheatland Farm Estates." They're neither farms nor estates!) We're literally burying some of the best farmland in the world under people who think that food magically appears wrapped in plastic at the supermarket. We can live just fine without Wal-Mart and shopping malls, but one thing that every one of us absolutely depends upon is food. We are so short sighted that even as our population increases, we continue turning farmland into suburban mega-sprawlplexes, complete with fertilizer- and pesticide-drenched lawns soaking up billions of gallons of water every year that could be used to grow abundant, healthy food and ease the burden on our rivers, wetlands and groundwater. It's unbelievable.

If I had the means, I'd buy that lawyer's land, disassemble the house and donate the components to Houses for Humanity, and turn it into a working organic farm with a modest farm house. And you can bet your ass I'd be a "horse person" and a "garden person" and lots of people in Boulder would be able to enjoy the land through the fruits of my labor and the beauty such a farm would bring to our community. I'd mentor students and make an effort to educate people about the abundance of benefits to be had from clean, sustainable, local farming. I'd use our resources responsibly and share the wealth with everyone. What I would not do is destroy it all for the sake of my own vanity.

Unbelievable.

DC

As strange, improbable, totally out of left field as it may sound, I'm completely at home in DC.

Okay, not completely. I have no intention of leaving Boulder for DC but I must say I'm having a most unexpectedly moving experience and I do feel far more comfortable here than I would ever have imagined.

I'm here on travel for a few days with some co-workers to present a scientific paper which I co-authored. As usual, I was initially nervous about going to a "big dirty city" but, if New York was any guide, as usual I turned out to have a completely different opinion of the place having actually been there. That's one of the things I love about travel. It expands my horizons and generally turns my pre-conceived notions upside down.

Of course I always wanted to come to DC, but I expected a big dirty city full of crowds and traffic and crime and headache. But maybe, just maybe, the "headache" part all depends on the perspective and attitude of the observer. I think this is something I'm still trying to extract from my personality which I may only have in the first place because of my small town Texas upbringing. Whatever the case, I love DC and no one is more surprised to hear me say that than I am.

My first day was mostly flying and arriving and checking in and finding food and conferencing. Today was much more relaxed. I already know downtown pretty well as I've walked it about a million times. You know one of the things that's cool about this city? You can't go anywhere without bumping into some major history. My first day we were walking to find a quick bite to eat and someone pointed out, "Oh there's the theater where Lincoln was shot. Oh and that's where he died."

WHAT!?!? I felt like I'd been whisked into a history textbook. Everywhere someone very important died, something historic happened or there's a 200 year old Romanesque building of great significance.

Other than the actual presentation which was today (Thursday) I managed to ditch my co-workers and set about doing my own thing. For lunch I went down to Bread Line which Google tells me is a "must eat" place here in DC. Truly it is. I daresay I've never had a better sandwich, though the service is a bit like the soup nazi. You better know what you want when you get in the very long line or you may well be skipped when the shaved head guy points to you and expects you to call it out. Crazy, but awesome. We don't have that kind of thing in Texas or Colorado. And the walk to Bread Line took me right by the front steps of the White House. We most definitely do not have that out west.

Tonight, after the presentation was done and the co-workers were organizing dinner plans, I headed to the National Mall. I heard the famous monuments were best viewed at night. I heard correctly.

I decided not to change out of my suit and tie to walk the mall. Everyone in DC dresses, and men almost universally are dressed in suit and tie and long black trenchcoat. It was 24 degrees and breezy tonight so I stopped into one of the clothiers downtown and picked up a trenchcoat myself. Now I really look like I belong here. I felt like it too.

So I walked down to the mall and before I knew it there I was. The Washington Monument. Wow. It's huge. And white. And, wow. I ascended the long walkway to the monument. It was cold, quiet. There were few people on the mall tonight and I had a lot of time to thing and soak up my surroundings. I walked slowly around the monument, running my hand along it as I went. As I rounded the east side a most unexpected sight greeted me. A whole group of kids was running up the hill gasping at the enormity of the thing, at at the very same moment a massive helicopter painted like Air Force One appeared out of nowhere not 150 feet above my head. I thought it was going to land on me, but I watched as it landed on the White House lawn. So there I stood, among a sea of children marveling at the Washington monument, with the Capitol in the distance to my right, the Lincoln Memorial in the distance to my left, the city sprawled before me and watching Air Force One deliver someone important to the White House (Obama? I'll never know.) I was frozen with awe.

It wasn't until I reached the World War II Memorial that my emotions finally caught up with me. I was completely alone in the night now. The sounds of the city were distant and faint and there wasn't a soul in sight. The memorial is a huge ring of massive stone pillars with the state names individually inscribed on each. As I ascended the walkway, a crisp wind blew a swirl of dead leaves around my feet. The lights cast my 20 foot tall shadow across each pillar as I walked slowly past reading the state names. A million thoughts about war and death and history swirled through my mind and I couldn't help being swept away by the moment. Tears came down my face and all I could think about was the ties that bind us all as humans, gay or straight, republicans or democrats, conservative or liberal. We're all Americans, and despite our problems and our mistakes I'm proud to be a citizen of this nation.

And then there was the Lincoln Memorial. I'm really at a loss for words. I just stood there silently in the cold looking up at the image of that great man and thinking. The whole experience really moved me in unexpected ways. I want to express it in writing but I just can't. Lordy it was a beautiful thing. I did buy a flag pin at the Lincoln Memorial and pinned it to my lapel.

I spent hours walking the mall and still didn't make it all the way around. I'm told it's over 4 miles round trip. By this time hunger and the cold wind were starting to get the better of me. I stopped into an exquisite looking restaurant that had caught my eye earlier. I found a choice seat at the bar right next to a young, fun, very nice looking gay man and his female friend. I was attended by a hot gay bartender, a beautiful female bartender, and a riotous host of servers who had me rolling with laughter. Between them all I was never without someone to entertain me. I think I ended up staying about three hours and having at least as many drinks. What a truly fantastic night.

So now I'm sitting here in the lobby of my $350/night hotel at 3AM DC time (1AM Colorado time which I'm still functioning on) and trying unsuccessfully to put into words how amazing this trip has been. The presentation went as perfectly as I could have hoped for and I made some really interesting contacts at the conference. And then there's all the amazing DC stuff which I've only touched on here. I still have a full day tomorrow to spend museum hopping before I have to catch my flight home in the evening.

I feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Cultivating Passion

Sometimes during the course of the daily grind I start thinking things like, "Am I wasting my time seeking out local and organic food and dreaming of being a farmer/rancher? Wouldn't my energy be better focused on something that might, say, enhance my current career skills? Am I even making any kind of a difference? Is there any real point? Why can't you just be content with all the blessings you already have and enjoy the fruits of modern society?"

And then I pick up a book like Deep Economy by Bill McKibben and reality beats me over the head with a genetically modified, toxin filled, chemical-tasting frozen "dinner" that consumed 12 times as many oil calories as it offers and left staggering environmental, economic and social destruction in its wake. I read half of it this evening. I was only able to put it down because I had the overwhelming urge to tell someone (Gerard and my blog) a little about it. On the rare occasion when the flames of passion start to cool and I start to question my own philosophy (ie. I get lazy and doubt myself), a book like this is just what I need to remind me of the moral reasons why I care so much and why these things are so important that I've restructured my life around them.

People just don't understand what they're doing to the world and to themselves when they buy food at Wal-Mart or Safeway. It's huge. As much as I've learned about it over the years, it still boggles my mind. And the more I learn the stronger my convictions. I don't even like Whole Foods all that much anymore (gasp!) nor many of their suppliers. The very nature of a corporation and what it must do to survive (let alone thrive) goes against nearly everything I stand for. The single most profound effect you can have on this world is buying local and organic food because it touches EVERYTHING. I'll stop there before I end up rewriting the book, but I have to put Deep Economy on my "highy recommended reading" list.

Practice Makes Perfect

Today I made the most perfect crust ever.

It was a crust for one of the last pumpkin pies of the season. I didn't change any proportions or use any different ingredients or leave anything out, so my technique must be improving. In fact, the pie itself appears to have come out perfect as well. This one didn't crack or get too dark around the edges or overflow, and looks like it could be on the cover of Fine Cooking. But that's not the most exciting part.

The best part was what I did with the extra crust. I normally make cinnamon rolls with it, and they normally come out good. I again made cinnamon rolls, but only with half the dough. With the other half I experimented, starting with the dough and my homemade peach butter which I canned last summer. When finished, I sat Gerard down and served the results with tall glasses of raw milk. By his reaction I knew I had really scored with this one. The crust, I kid you not, was as buttery and flaky as any good croissant, and it was filled with hot peaches. "You have to teach me how to make this crust," he said. Unfortunately it disappeared before I thought to get any pictures, but I did give it a name: Everything's Peachy.

The cinnamon rolls, pictured above, will be breakfast tomorrow. With this crust I'm expecting them to reach new heights of tastiness.

A Fine Weekend

It's one of those Saturday nights where I'm so grateful it's just that. I don't have to do a darn thing tomorrow and I can completely relax tonight in the peace and quiet of my home and sleep in as late as I want tomorrow. Of course "sleep in" usually means 7:30 at the latest. Still, it's a luxury knowing I don't have to get up.

Actually I am going to do some things tomorrow. I'm planning to make pancakes for brunch, which will go well with the butter I churned today, and at some point in the day I plan to bake a pumpkin pie and two loaves of bread. But since I consider those to be incredibly joyful activities I don't really consider them "to do" items. Baking will also make the place nice and cozy. We're supposed to get some sloppy wet snow tomorrow and I have no reason to venture outside.

Today was a really fantastic day in terms of weather. With the exception a few arctic blasts that put us in the deep freeze for a few days, it has been a really warm winter, with most days being sunny and in the 60's. We've even had a few days in the 70's. This morning Gerard and I got up early and hiked into the mountains just outside our door. It was a crisp, sunny morning. Gerard even wore shorts. We both noticed right away the first sign of spring: the birds are back! Seems a bit early to me, but maybe they're getting a jump on spring with all the warm weather. Robins, flickers and all kinds of song birds were flitting about the mountains and singing in the trees. We even saw the first Steller's Jay (one of my favorites) since last year. We also came across something else fairly exciting today. Near a nameless peak west of Mount Sanitas we found what appeared to be the remnants of a mountain lion's kill. It was the hoof and lower leg of a very young mule deer. The bone near the detachment point had been snapped off and knawed. It was pretty cool, though slightly unnerving since lions tend to stay in the area and guard their kills. We looked around but couldn't find the rest of the carcass and thought it likely that a fox or some other critter had scavenged a kill and left this tidbit near the trail.

The rest of the day was mostly spent loafing. I did manage to get out to the farm to pick up a couple dozen eggs and a few winter squash, and I prepared smoked pork chops and mashed potatoes for dinner which was followed up with an evening walk downtown. But otherwise I had a perfectly, wonderfully unproductive day. As for the rest of the evening, I think I'll try to decide on my next book selection and see if I can't get a couple of chapters in. I'm going to try to resist reading Animal Vegetable Miracle again.

Waking Dreams

It's one of those nights. I can't sleep. I'm lying in bed staring at the ceiling and dreaming of owning my own Colorado ranch.

There was a time not too many years ago where I wanted to live in a fancy loft in the heart of downtown. I never got the fancy loft, but I did live in a nice place right on the very cusp of downtown Austin. It was pretty fantastic and I have no regrets. It satisfied my craving. But I get claustrophobic in the big city, and I found that I bored quickly of all the shops, and since bars and nightlife don't do anything for me anymore I found myself feeling unfulfilled. I never got bored with Town Lake or Barton Springs, but I wanted something more. I guess I felt a little like I lived in a magazine spread. It was cool, but what was I actually doing? I found myself longing for a quiet place in the country, much like what I had growing up. But I wasn't into long commutes, especially in Austin traffic. I had also spent a good decade fantasizing about living in the mountains of Colorado and fully intended to do so when the time was right. I was starting to feel like the time was right.

So I made a brilliant and extremely fortunate career move that landed me in Colorado, specifically in Boulder, right where I always wanted to be. By that time I was so ready to get out of the crowded city that I was of a mind to live alone in the mountains. Indeed I entertained my friends with crazy ideas like living in a teepee. (People actually do this very successfully here.) I no longer want to try living in a teepee, partly because I know I would be bored out of my mind, but mostly because I now realize that that was just me trying desperately to get away from it all to recharge. My alone time is extremely important to me and if I don't get enough, well, I get a little nutty. Along those same lines, I also now realize I don't want to be a solitary mountain man. The mountains can be extremely lonely. And cold. While I highly value "me" time, I don't actually want to be a hermit. I love community.

I have found myself very much at home in Boulder. It's not too big. Rush hour lasts from roughly 5PM to 5:30PM and it only slows me down for a few blocks trying to get around the University, though it's rare for me to come home during that time anyway. It's quiet, clean, beautiful, convenient, extremely progressive, has all the comforts of a big city with few of the big city problems, AND it's an outdoor lover's paradise all at the same time. I can walk to everything from gourmet restaurants and designer fashions to mountain trails that feel like they're a thousand miles from nowhere. There's a year-round creek complete with waterfalls, wild birds and trout right outside my window and central park is on the opposite bank. The largest and by far the best farmer's market in the whole state is 3 blocks from my home. I haven't explored too much of Colorado yet, but Boulder would be a tough place to beat.

And yet I still find myself longing for something more. A more perfect city? Bigger mountains? What could I possibly want? I want a farm. I love Boulder. I love Colorado. I don't want to leave and have no intention to do so, but sometimes I have those same old feelings of being crowded and a bit bored of city life even here in Boulder. Let me explain.

Back in Austin I rediscovered food the day I set foot in my first Whole Foods. That was close to 8 or 9 years ago now. I couldn't believe a grocery store could be so beautiful, that food could be so amazing and that people could care so much about it. I discovered organic and I was hooked. Over the years my fascination with food grew and grew, and by the time I left Austin I was dividing my food time equally between Whole Foods and the farmer's market (which is really very good in Austin.) By the time of this writing, I've almost entirely outgrown even Whole Foods (which we have plenty of in Boulder) and I now get over 90% of my calories from local organic farms and ranches. As anyone who has read my blog or knows me knows, I also do my own canning and baking and freezing and butter making and have complete control over my food from the time it's picked until the time I eat it. I'm obsessed with it like I've never been obsessed with anything else. It's like I've finally found something in life that makes me feel fulfilled. I've done a lot of fun things in life and I still have many things I enjoy, but food is one of the few things that has real purpose for me. I mean, it's food. Someone once summed it up nicely: "Money is illusion. Food is real." What could be more rewarding than coaxing the most delicious, nutritious edibles from nature year after year? The very essence that keeps me alive and healthy isn't something that comes from a store. It isn't something that I have to trade for green paper with a corporation in order to get. It's something that earth gives us for free, if only we know how to ask.

So here I am in Boulder and everything is wonderful, except I still can't grow most of what I eat because I have no space. Sometimes I feel trapped in the city. I don't have one of those idyllic 30 acre organic farms just outside the city. You've seen them, at least in pictures: rolling green meadows with a few horses grazing near a big red barn under an azure sky with rugged, snow-capped mountains forming a back drop. Yep, that's eastern Boulder county. So far as I'm concerned, it's the best of all worlds. It's just five miles from the heart of Boulder, just fifteen minutes drive to the mountains. There's rich prairie soil for growing crops and grazing livestock, and plenty of mountain streams to water it all. It's quiet out there. It's country, but it's not isolated. Your neighbor's house is far enough away that you might not even be able to see it, and odds are they're Obama-loving, gay-rights supporting, organic-farming liberals with Ph.D's that you'll see down at the farmer's market every weekend where, by the way, there's a huge demand for local organic produce and more than enough well-to-do people who are more than happy to pay a premium for it. And they aren't just mindless consumers. No, these people know what they want and they love it. I too could be one of those farmers if only I had $3 million to buy a farm.

My dream farm, by the way, exists here. It's called Abbondanza (Italian for "bountiful") and they are Boulder's premier organic farm. Seriously, you should see their farm stand. Whole Foods can't even do a spread like they can. And they're seed savers too. They grow hundreds of varities of vegetables on the farm, many are heirloom varities, and they save all their own seeds which they sell or replant the following season. They're completely self sufficient! And no one at the market offers the variety they do.

So for the time being I do my canning and churn my butter from the raw ingredients I buy from my local farmers, and I tend my little city organic garden plot and dream of the day I have my own little orchard, rows of organic greens and livestock grazing in the pasture.

My one real outlet for getting my farmer/rancher fix at this time is the horse farm I volunteer with. Bini, the owner, has seen too many moons to garden and so it now lies covered in weeds. However she has offered the space for me to bring it back to life if I'm so inclined. As spring approaches the dream of what that garden could become weighs on my mind. My only hesitation is investing work and, inevitably, money into a farm that isn't mine. I won't be the first person in history to work a farm I don't own, but since this is (for now at least) a hobby rather than my livelihood I think it'll be worth it.