Reflections on Biodynamics

Biodynamics. It seems this word evokes an interesting emotional response when said and talked about among growers, and those new to growing. For me, I meet the word with hesitation and interest. I am hesitant because so much about the philosophy is unknown to me. The mystery surrounding this practice could be intentional as far as I can surmise. I am interested because I’ve seem the amount of food grown on biodynamic fields.

The philosophy, and it is important to consider this a philosophy just like “organic” (when either of these ideas morphs from philosophy to a marketing gimmick, as in organics, the purity of the practice is corrupted) was first described to me as “beyond organics”. And in a sort of weird joke biodynamics was described as “organics on steroids”. “Steroids” is just used to elude to biodynamics being equivalent to organics pumped up, or taken to an extreme. Organic on steroids would just be the industrial food system.

So, my interest finally got the best of me and I have been following a biodynamic planting calendar since early February. The calendar is the only biodynamic practice I am following, I have not yet delved into the world of biodynamic preparations--bull horns, etc. But, following this calendar has proven to warrant public reflection (I am not trying keep biodynamics shroud in mystery!). I would like to express some thoughts on the subject for those who may have never heard of the concept, or are like me with feelings of hesitation and interest but have been scared to try practicing biodynamics.

The calendar is based astrological phases--not very strange since all calendars are basically based on this. But, the calendar is also based on knowing when certain planets will be in a particular alignment with the Earth, moon, sun, and other planets. For example, a biodynamic experiment demonstrated that a particular planet influenced the flower color of certain plants. When these seeds were planted during the period Mars was influencing the earth, the flowers were red. When planted with venus, yellow; with Pluto, blue. This sounds really crazy, and sort of exciting, but as far as I know every farmer, and maybe everyone, in ancient societies knew this type of information. We are all still told in grade school how ancient cultures, the Myans, Egyptians, etc planted by constellations and when they were visible in a particular part of the night sky. It is also well known of how explorers used the stars for navigating. What I am trying to say is that these are not new ideas, and are in fact really old. We have simply forgotten them. In true Puritan/American fashion we decided we would do without ancient knowledge--we would find our own way.

What I feel has been the most positive aspect of using this calendar is its power to organize. The calendar breaks up plant types into four categories--leaf, root, fruit, and flower. Everyday corresponds to one of these categories. So, when I go into the greenhouse to start seeds in early February I can go in knowing exactly what I am going to plant that day. This has brought clarity and focus to my thoughts while planting. If I know it is a leaf day, my mind is consumed with thoughts of lettuce, spinach, kale, collards and other leafy plants. I can focus on those specific plants. I am not distracted by thoughts of tomatoes, or beets, or anything. If nothing else, I think the intentionality that this calendar brings to my interactions with seeds is the most influential result. I am ok with saying that the seeds can detect my energy, and will either feed on or reject that energy. By being as intentional as I can with the seeds, the greater chance I have that they will respond positively to me. And, as a grower, I have a vested interest in how the plants respond to me. The idea of intentionality has opened me up to a prayer I say when sowing seeds. It is an Indian prayer that Indian farmers say during planting. They say, “May this seed be exhaustless.”

I have also found myself feeling personally connected to other farmers following this calendar, and the moon. I’m not sure if this has any real affect on my plants and such, but I can imagine feeling more connected to people and natural elements is positive. When I plant tomatoes and then notice an almost full moon the next night, I feel the moon and I are working together to grow those tomatoes. The same is true with feeling connected to other farmers. I feel supported by them when I know we are all planting the same type of plant on the same days.

There are more scientific explanations of the benefits of biodynamics. It is said that when the moon is closer to the earth or full, it causes the seed to swell from the water in the seed. This makes since considering the moons affect on ocean tides.

I actually haven’t found any negative aspects to working with the calendar. However, I would not recommend relying totally on the biodynamic methods. You still have to be knowledgeable of gardening and farming. You still have to keep an eye on the weather. You still have to build your soil. You still have to cover crop. You still have to listen to your plants needs. And you still have to watch for pests.

The Insatiable Idea of Spring, or Spring, Here we Come!

The central question I want to ask is: Why is the idea of Spring so powerful?

It’s been above 50 degrees almost everyday for the past two weeks. My winter thoughts have gone from seed catalogs and garden layouts to greenhouses and planting dates. In January these thoughts would normally be ridiculous and/or impossible if were not for the past two weeks (global warming?...just kidding). However, the thoughts would normally be entering my head sometime in February, which is still ridiculous. I assume the thought of Spring at such a ridiculous time has something to do with power of the idea of Spring.

When thinking of this power of Spring it is easy to jump to Sunday-school-esc answers. “Spring is about birth”, for example. Of course, new birth is a core concept to Spring. I don’t want to negate the importance of connecting birth and spring. The idea certainly goes deep. Spring coalesces with the re-birth of Jesus. This, of course, after the time of Lent.

And Lent, of course, is the period at the end of February and all of March, and is a time of fasting, or giving-up. Typically, something like chocolate for folks today. But, this timing in February and March is actually an interesting one when practically considering the availability of food in subsistence agriculture.

To share something personal right now, I have no food. It has been a few weeks since I ate anything I grew myself--without the supper market I would have starved to death by now. Even if I had planned for this winter by canning, storing, or preserving food I had grow, by now I would start to see a dent in the stock and I’d be getting a little worried. Barbara Kingsolver in her book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle about her year eating only what she grew says the real problem with subsistence production is not the winter, as most suspect, but is actually early spring. By early spring most food that had been put up in summer and fall is almost gone, and things are only just beginning to be planted outside--which means it’s going to be another two months before any harvest. Enter Lent; the time of fasting. Lent becomes obviously practical within a subsistence agriculture framework, like the one that existed up till the industrial revolution, and one someone like Jesus and the folks of the early church would have been very familiar with.

Interestingly, as we have become more and more disconnected from food and food production, Lent is now touted as a time to do something you normally don’t--not to fast, or give-up in other words. We have turned the season of fasting into a season that one could potential consume more of something. Work out more, or eat more healthy fruits and vegetables, for example. Lenten promises have sort of become like new year’s resolutions. In becoming disconnected from food and food production we have also become disconnected from the very religious traditions we cling to as part of our identities.

I want to go deeper, or peel back a few layers to this story. In trying to go a little deeper with the concept of Spring I came to the word potential. I need not explain the idea of potential within the resurrection of Christ celebrated in Spring.

So, potential in what? And for what? Honestly, I am not sure exactly. For me, it’s one of those tip of the tongue, can’t quite put my finger on it, can only know it when I see it kind of things. (potentially a metaphor for my personal identity?)

But, to speak simply, in Spring I see the potential of a beautiful crop. I see a lush garden bursting with fruit and leaf and wildlife. I see dinner--kale pizza is almost here! I see people and groups moving throughout the garden, admiring some particular plant, picking a leaf or tomato to eat. This foresight ultimately sees the potential of a healthy soil, healthy bodies, and the commitment to tend a garden.

I should also not forget the importance remembering has in this idea of potential; a healthy mind if you will. For the potential is there in those beds for us gardeners to correct last years mistakes, if we remember them. The cruelty of gardening is that gardeners only get one chance each year to do their job right, and if it goes wrong we have to wait till the following Spring to try again. Spring becomes the time act on our promises to the garden: I’ve promised to take better care of the basil this year, for example.

For what? This is where I am not so sure. The general optimism for the future maybe? Though, I just gone explaining the reflectiveness Spring entices. For something to happen? Like some spiritual awaking in myself? To find a true identity? Or the process of getting to know folks in the neighborhood via the garden? Something really shallow and selfish like job security? I am not sure what for. Maybe there isn’t much there to begin with.

Either way, today, marks the official beginning of my season. I planted collard greens, kale, leeks and onions in the greenhouse. Tomorrow is mustard greens, and more collard greens. I used a mixture of one part garden compost that I made, one part potting mix, and one part sand for the leeks. Then mad soil blocks with potting mix for everything else. These starts will all be transplanted in the garden in a about 6 to 8 weeks and will be harvested sometime in the middle of May. Then they will be dinner.

[I’ll also mention that there is a swimming pool at the farm. Just sayin’, that’s a pretty insatiable idea of Spring right now too!]

-justin, garden manager

To Start Stepping on Toes: Addressing AN Elephant in the Church

Here is where I am coming from:

The work in the garden is a prayer. The fruit is the result of that work—mine and natures and God’s. That fruit is the most nutritional, and healthy—for consumers and growers. I believe food (and I mean food in the truest sense of that word and nothing of fuel or filling) grown using sustainable methods and consumed within a local context is what God would intend for us. I truly believe—in that religious sense—in what I am doing.

I am also imperfect. My relationship with the food I consume is so far away from I want it to be I feel hypocritical when talking of the subject, and I am perceived as the novel authority of food consumption simply because I’ve grown some vegetables for myself and have read a few books. I am going to stand on these following words though.

If it’s not obvious by now and by previous entries, I am someone with a certain belief in something much bigger than we can conceive. When I attend church or church related functions “food” is sometimes involved. When this happens there are often words like “fellowship” and “thankfulness” and “blessed” and “praying for those who are hungry”. Often it is displayed on long plastic tables, and at white churches, consists of processed meats, sweets, cut vegetable platters with those “baby carrots”, broccoli, and tomatoes with ranch dip. There is often processed crackers and processed cheese. Sometimes there are doughnuts. I think you are getting the point.

I think these displays are desecrations of the church, and I think of the story of Jesus turning over the tables of the money chargers. In my mind the tables of the money charges are the same as the tables of food.

But hear me, this does not make the church unsacred. In his poem “How To Be A Poet”, Wendell Berry says, “There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places.” We are desecrating a sacred place—the church is still sacred. I am not trying to discount the truly amazing things that happen around tables at churches. I merely address what is on the table.

As Jesus is overturning tables he says, “My house is to be made a house of prayer and you have made it a den of thieves” (Mark 11:15-19, Matthew 21:12-17, Luke 19: 45-48, and John 2:12-25). The food on display represents a type of thievery. That food has robbed the soil of nutrients. That food has robbed migrant workers of dignified work. That food, robbed of taste, robs the consumer of enjoyment of taste. And it’s the cooperation’s behind all that processing that robs everyone—from field worker to factory worker to consumer—of freedom.

I recently had the urge to overturn the tables at the last church function. If the church is to stand on what it says, those “food” displays need to be abolished. Instead, I urge churches to buy locally, seasonally, and sustainably; to support those local prayers. I urge churches to plant a garden and eat the fruit of their prayer—live that prayer. I urge churches to stop making the house of God a den of thieves. I urge the church to make the church and its surrounding community wholly sacred and beautiful.

In someways my work is addressing this problem. I have started a garden at a church (and we have a prospect of another garden at another church). I have said my work is my prayer, and that means i have praying a lot. I've praying for help though. I need to be meet somewhere in the middle; it doesnt have to be half-way, just somewhere. I will come as far as you let me.