Adventures in Permaculture

Not the beginning, and certainly not the end, but where I am right now.

I first heard about permaculture* many moons ago but my desire to get properly stuck in with the philosophy (and practical applications) of permaculture became apparent in the Autumn of 2012 when there was a residential Permaculture Design Course (72 hours of tuition) planned at a local venue...which I wasn't able to attend. 2013 saw me target finding a residential course that I could fit around other commitments. Found one, booked it - and had it cancelled at short notice. Nevermind, thinks me, I'll find another - and so I did! Booked it...and had it cancelled at short notice.

At this point it felt like I was pushing the river so I decided to stop looking for courses and see what happened. The time I'd already booked off work for the two cancelled courses was spent WWOOFing which was in itself incredibly valuable (and something I'm planning on doing more of in 2014) but I still felt the structure of the permaculture design course would help focus me on the topic in a way that reading the various books I'd got hold of hadn't.

And lo - at the end of December, I found a free online design course! Yippee! Now, I've already discovered various challenges with getting stuck into this course but I've looked for (and found) ways to make it work and am successfully trotting through the various video lectures...while undertaking various time-consuming-but-non-brain-engaging activities like stripping rosemary from twigs to dry it, or shelling cobnuts I picked in Herefordshire in October. Activities which feel pleasantly apt.

The course itself is currently covering a lot of material which is already familiar from the books I've read or other parts of my life, but is bringing said material back to the front of my brain. I'm revisiting a lot of the books which have been sitting forlornly on my shelves and I'm getting new inspiration for the various areas I can plant in.

As 2014 starts and I reflect on 2013's growing activities, I've unfortunately concluded that growing things in the area in front of my house is not energy well spent - as those plantings have frequently been targetted by vandals damaging the plants or pulling them out of the soil. I find it incredibly sad that anyone has a mindset that things vandalising plants is OK. But spending energy getting upset or angry, or, indeed, continuing to grow different things which just keep getting attacked isn't what I want to be doing just now. However, with other areas to focus on I have plenty of possibilities to keep me entertained! I haven't given up entirely on getting greenery in that area outside my house but as an "unsafe" zone for the time being it may just have to wait a little longer while I work out a better strategy.

Permaculture design focuses heavily on observation before starting to design and I can already feel the "Doer" in me wanting to get stuck in. I am, however, in the enviable position of having loosely observed the areas I can plant in for several, if not many, years. There's always more to learn from observing and I intend to continue refining my observation skills and collecting information about these different spots. But I also see 2014 as an opportunity to continue experimenting with various growings in preparation for future possibilities as yet not defined.

Already I'm seeing why permaculture holds such interest for me: much like NO HANDS Massage, it is founded on a lot of principles I already hold as important and yet takes them a step further, while weaving in new concepts I've yet to fully understand. Brilliant.


*There are a host of definitions of permaculture here - I see the applications of permaculture as incredibly diverse and exciting but as a newbie to permaculture land am still formulating what I considering to be my definition of the essence of it.

Resolutions & Plastic Bags

Much has been said about New Year's resolutions (good thing / bad thing / indifferent thing) and I see the arrival of a new calendar year as an opportunity to challenge myself to take another step along a road I'm already travelling. It's not a success / failure thing for me - rather an exploration of what changes I'm not making because I'm just being lazy, and which remain for other reasons.

Last year my resolution was only to buy Fairtrade Chocolate. I've long known about, and supported, Fairtrade generally and do make an effort to buy Fairtrade. However, last year I discovered that my own challenge with only buying Fairtrade Chocolate was in choice and availability - usually when I'm out and about and want chocolate, I want "light" chocolate. "Light" in my books translates as average quality, easy to eat and in a snack sized portion. Most vegan Fairtrade chocolate doesn't fall into this category - instead it's good quality, very rich chocolate in 100g bars. And that's when I can get my hands on it. I don't buy a lot of chocolate (generally gifts through the year keep me fairly well stocked) but when I want it, I often struggle to find a Fairtrade option which fits my needs. A very middle-class problem, I acknowledge, but that's the place I live. So I have returned to buying Fairtrade where I can (not just chocolate - and, infact, Traidcraft's Fairtrade wheat & quinoa fusilli is one of my staples) and bowing to my desires occasionally when I can't.

So - this year! This year is plastic bags - not to ask / accept them when I'm shopping. Again, I'm not starting from scratch on this - I've been avoiding getting plastic bags for donkey's years but, I believe mainly through laziness, I do occasionally fold and ask for one. Perhaps I haven't got enough capacity in the bags I've got with me. Perhaps I just didn't think to take a bag at all. But given how unnecessary (yet ubiquitous) plastic bags are, this seemed a good habit to sort out.

Already I've learnt my first lesson of plastic-bag-acquisition-avoidance: plastic bags are sometimes a very handy resource to have! I was buying tofu yesterday and the containers were a bit wet (in fact I think one has a slight hole in it) - the temptation to ask for a plastic carrier bag was high but being Jan 3rd I opted to take the lesson and get my backpack a bit damp on the cycle home. So now I just need to make sure I have a couple of plastic carriers stashed along with my cotton bags when I'm off out to buy this and that. More lessons I'm sure will come along but already this year's resolution is doing exactly what I want it to - challenging me gently to live in a way that's one step lighter on the planet.

Enough

Reflections in the past 24 hours or so have led me here. To this place of Enough.

Not "Enough's enough!"

Not "Enough already!"

But - enough. Sufficient. In fact, even plentiful. There is a simplicity in my life because I have enough. And for having enough (and the simplicity it brings) I am incredibly grateful. By having more than enough I find myself wondering what to do with the more - to hoard, to share, to give, to multiply - but that's a reflection for another day. Today is of Enough.

On every level. I am enough. I have enough. I give enough (or do I? This one I'm still pondering). My tendency is to strive for more, to do more and be more - and yet sometimes just being and doing is enough.

What worries me is the belief which pervades many areas of life of "not enough". I absolutely recognise there are times when more must be striven for, and done, and achieved - but very rarely is the message "Well done. That's great. That's enough. Now - enjoy". Perhaps I'm straying into the territory of "live in the Now" but my biggest concern in the area of Not Enough is simply consumption.

It's a new year now but barely a week ago was the culmination of festivities around Christmas. I'm not a Christian so Christmas is not my festival - but I also somehow don't embrace the "well, Christmas is a cultural thing now, so that's what I'm celebrating, being with friends and family..." view either. However, with so many around me wanting to celebrate at this time of year I gladly welcome the opportunities to be part of that - simply enjoying those opportunities for what they are, and if anything celebrating the end of one year and the beginning of the next.  I do enjoy seeing friends and family. I do enjoy sharing good food. I do enjoy creating decorations from the wonderful plant life that still thrives at this time of year (and particularly enjoyed making three foliage rings this year entirely from matter I was able to choose and cut myself - with a little bit of garden string here and there for good measure). But I really struggle with the material consumption side of things.

Now, it's not a Christmas thing alone. There is marketing year round for the latest phone or gadget, the next big thing in fashion, the must have toys - but the sense of obligation to purchase and give at this time of year is what I object to. Giving is a wonderful thing to do - being stressed and worried about what to give, and what to get, and who needs a present and whether you can afford it: that's not wonderful. That's horrid. And the potential judgment for not partaking - I heard a radio host deriding a colleague for being "tight" because said colleague and his family had chosen not to exchange gifts. They all had sufficient. None of them had children so there was no sense of "depriving the kids of the excitement of presents". And rather than playing the consumption game they simply chose not to. Brilliant. And yet so publicly "judged".

We live in a rich time. There is poverty and imbalance in the distribution of this wealth, but there is also, I believe, an oft unspoken truth, an "elephant in the room", that this richness will not last forever and is, in fact, incredibly finite.

There is some inspiring work being done by millions of people around the world - seeking sustainable alternatives, creating new technologies, looking for solutions in the problems - but I fear there is also a significant proportion of those able to choose to consume or not who choose to ignore the fact these resources are finite and plough ahead regardless.

And so for my part I'm recognising Enough. (Yes, it's the material consumption which is the easiest to understand and recognise as Enough - but it's also every aspect of Enough, not just materially.) In fact, I'm celebrating it. I look forward to the challenges. I look forward to what's possible. But I also am enjoying where I am, what I have and what I can offer. And in particular my material sufficiency - because the only place we can start any change with integrity is with ourselves.

Written as the dusk was falling (along with the rain) on Heysham Head

I'm a Doer, not a Watcher

Beaters in hand, rhythm all around and utter joy in my heart. *That* is what I love about drumming with Batala. Tonight I didn't even feel I was particularly on form - a much smaller and lighter drum than usual felt quite different and I was also just a bit tired / distracted / out of practice - but the rush of drumming in such an awesome band was amazing. In my mind I have a snapshot moment of looking forward through the band to our awesome caller for tonight, as we played our second and final set in Garstang. The hoodies. The costumes. The smiles. The energy. The power. The DRUMMING.

Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. My arrival to the gig had been somewhat more stressful than desirable given difficulties I had locating our meeting point but throughout that period my concern was that I was going to miss out on playing. The event was pretty good itself - lots of shops open, stalls out in the street, street organs and the like - but I didn't want to watch it all. I didn't want to be the recipient of something that was organised for my entertainment. I wanted to be IN it. Doing. And that's what I got to do. And it was ACE.

The contrast was made starker by being much more of a "watcher" this weekend, with a trip down to a Sunday Assembly in Manchester. It was somewhat of a research trip as there's a small team of us hoping to set up a Sunday Assembly in Lancaster - but it was also another amazing "clarity finder" to add to the list in 2013. The Sunday Assembly concept is that of a church-type set up, but without the religion. I've heard it called the atheist church - but it's not really that either. Whether you have a faith or not, the Sunday Assemblies provide a non-religious setting to spend some time with others from your local community, sing some songs, hear some addresses and have a cuppa after. And that was very much what we found on Sunday morning.

This was the second Manchester Sunday Assembly, and was held in the amazing Victoria Baths (more on them in a bit). There was clearly a strong organising team facilitating the smooth running of everything and the format was very much what I'd been anticipating from a Sunday Assembly. But left me very much being a watcher. Listening to what was being said but not necessarily actively engaging. There was something about it that left me wanting to have "done" more. And yet, thinking about it, I'm not sure how in the set up that I anticipated (and was party to) I would have done more. I love the idea of meeting and getting to know more people in my locale and this seemed the perfect medium. Maybe it still is. But there's a nagging feeling inside me that this may not be the magic pill I was looking for.

But the Victoria Baths. Oh. My. From first looking at their website I had a suspicion I'd fall in love with them and I absolutely did. Stunning glazed tiles. Classic Victorian architecture. A sense of solidity. And just so evocative of, well, another age, another way of living, another world. Rose tinted glasses and all but I was entranced. I shared a delightful moment with three folk sitting behind me when one commented that it was really rather odd sitting in the bottom of an empty swimming pool (the congregation was on chairs on the rake of the base of the pool, the presentation happening from "the deep end") to which my only response was "Hmm, somehow it doesn't feel odd to me. Maybe I've been in the bottom of an empty pool before..." And I think I have - but the memory I've managed to extract from my brain doesn't have the hallmarks of one where being in such an unusual position would just go down as "normal" in my books. Another mystery for another day.

At the end of the Assembly "proper" we were invited to have a look around the building and I pounced on the chance - and somehow managed to snare myself the Baths' representative who was there in a caretaking capacity as a personal guide. I saw the Turkish baths and a contraption that was one of the first jacuzzi type affairs and had an amazing "control panel" to regulate the temperature etc. which looked like it could launch rockets. I saw the other two pool halls - one of which had been covered over for some time and was used as a sports hall, the other which was the most likely contender to become an operational pool again in the nearest future (and had been proven to be water tight just a few months earlier). And I got the opportunity to gaze and gaze and gaze. WONDERFUL space.

(I even got to see the basement and walk around the sides of the pools from the bottom, and go to the room which had the filtering machines and the old laundry. I feel so lucky to have had such a comprehensive and yet totally unexpected tour of this wonderful old place.)

So it's already been a week of contrasts - and it's only Tuesday...  

A quiet weekend in and around Chez Tigs

So, as friends around me seem to have social calendars fit to bursting I find myself having had a delightfully quiet and easy going weekend, with similar weekends to come over the next few weeks. By delightfully quiet I mainly mean that I spent the whole weekend either in Morecambe or Lancaster, did plenty of pottering around at home and feel wonderfully rested. There have been lots of adventures off and about around the UK this year which have been marvellous - but now I'm much more settled in Morecambe, being able to spend a whole weekend in my own locale is a precious treat.

It's also given me the opportunity to do and reflect on things that might otherwise have been a long time in coming - or had their moment pass entirely. Things which included...

Return of the curtain making
I love sewing. I have 3 sewing machines to my name (not to mention the overlocker) and still aspire to owning a treadle machine (especially now I've had the opportunity to get somewhat familiar with using one while I was in Shropshire). That said, 2 of the aforementioned three do rather need to see a sewing machine engineer and, having got a number of a recommended local engineer, this week may see me putting those digits into my phone and making contact... But this is a distraction. From. The. Curtains.

This weekend's curtains were in fact very straight forward - taking some existing curtains which I'd inherited and adapting them for The Snug. Two things. I wish I could remember where I'd inherited these curtains from. They're gorgeous heavy green fabric with a slight sheen to them and are now adorning three windows in two rooms in my house (with some still left over which I suspect will end up in a new skirt or dress). But, alas, their lineage is lost to me. I live in hope that one day their donator will visit and recognise them. Until then: a mystery.

The second thing. The Snug. I don't entirely know why it became The Snug. Because it's really anything but. A very large room that in the past has been a shop (it's most recent use I've been led to believe was a hairdressers, perhaps 10-15 years ago) and had it's own title deed. It's also a very tall room - possibly the tallest in the house. And with three external walls, even in summer it's not particularly snug. It's also a room which elicits mixed responses: most people love the raised double bed that's in there now, but I've had a friend in the past find it conjured an uneasy vibe. And part of its "unsnugness" was the inspiration for today's curtaining.

But the curtaining doesn't end with the windows. I've made many curtains for my house (and an increasing number for other homes and buildings - one such pair having their Grand Hanging on Friday. Photographic evidence is expected...) and am now plotting another "partition curtain". Part of The Snug's unsnugness comes from trying to heat such a large room. Generally only half of The Snug is in use at any one time so if I can create a large-panel-patchwork extravaganza I may well find myself with a more snug Snug. Which would be nice. But the windows needed to come first. Which they did. And they're done. Which is satisfying.

The Moving of Furniture
Since a young age I've had a penchant for rearranging furniture in my living space. Many were the times I shifted all the items of furniture, including my bunk bed, pretty much solo on a whim one weekend while living at home. Earlier this weekend (I forget exactly when) I realised the work-surface set up I had in The Snug wasn't optimal so after a mid-afternoon bath (it's been that kind of weekend: plus it's the fastest way to warm up in my house without much physical exertion) I had a merry little rearrange.

I'm really pleased with the result and even as I briefly sat at my desk it felt much more satisfying. The room's not entirely finished (curtain aside there's a sofa I need to collect from it's current loan-place so I've got somewhere I can curl up in comfort) but it's significantly closer than it was. Huzzah.

The weekend also included playing with candles as a heat source - current verdict: very positive - and the joys of processing harvests, albeit small. But those delights will have to wait for another moment - other than to say green tomatoes are my favourite new ingredient :)

Bonfires are Magical

I think bonfires are utterly magical. And I have done for years. But for me part of the magic is the fact that they never lose the magic. I've had the great pleasure of being around, feeding, building and generally enjoying bonfires for pretty much as long as I can remember, and yet still, I have more to learn from them.

The "man and fire" connection.

The amazing meditative quality of gazing at a fire as it burns.

The sense of peace evoked by being by a bonfire after darkness has fallen, the moon rising behind it.

And, perhaps most importantly this time round, their beautiful demonstration of the fact that Everything Changes. All The Time.

Some may argue it's somewhat cliched or trite, but change in any and all aspects of life and living is absolutely inevitable. Having spent a week at my parents' in rural Oxfordshire and resurrecting the bonfire ashes several times, these fires have somehow captured my imagination as a stunning example of change. Why?

Maybe it was the huge difference between being around a bonfire, and by being the bonfire builder, nurturer and carer. I hadn't been in the latter position for a while and being back where my bonfiring began was simply marvellous. This time round it was fairly "easy going" bonfiring - there was no big deadline, no pressure but somehow exactly the right amount of stuff to burn. But each day was a different bonfire. How it started. How it burned. How it needed looking after to keep it going. How the embers were left at the end of the night. How the ash pile was the following morning.

Maybe it was the evocation of memories of bonfires past - people who have been part of previous "burnings" and those who never quite made it. Where they are now. What they're up to. Those I'm in touch with - those that I'm not.

And maybe it's simply the fact that bonfires change. Constantly, organically and unerringly - even as ashes there's still an evolution going on. Sometimes the fire's nature is somewhat predictable (watching it build, the flames bursting through occasionally from the bed of hot ashes, anticipating where they'll go next) but there's never absolute certainty as to what will happen next. Bonfires, more than wood burners or even open fires, seem to me to have so much more space for their own way of doing things - the side that will burn more, the influence of the wind. And that freedom to me is what creates the utter mesmeric nature I found myself completely enfolded in as I sat watching.

Bonfires are special. And I think they're magical. But my newfound analogy of their constantly changing, fundamentally unpredictable nature is what's really warming my soul just now.

Lazy Sunday Morning

Having consumed the best part of a large block of tofu for breakfast (why have I not had more scrambled tofu Sunday morning breakfasts in my life to date? Something which shall, henceforth, be rectified) I'm still not particularly inclined to start dashing about. And, gratefully, I have no need to. Huzzah!

"Busy" is a rather non-descriptive term for how my life tends to be. Given it's more interesting when I'm *not* busy. So a better term to use today I think is incessant. Chatting to a friend over some Fentiman's CherryTree cola ("Hello! What's the red Fentiman's, please? Oh, it's a new Cherry cola? Brilliant! One of those please!") yesterday it was her who managed to identify what I'd been up to last weekend - so much has happened since and so much is lined up for the imminent future. There's a definite zest for life at the moment (as opposed to a relentless "just keep going") and with it thoughts mulling in my mind of possibilities - and enjoying making my house more of a home. I've also an acute awareness of "nothing ever stays still" - and the importance to be settled with the changing, while also enjoying memories and nostalgia.

All of which is rather airy fairy compared to drumming in the wind and the rain last night! Batala Lancaster had a gig as part of the warm up for Lancaster City Council's fireworks display from the castle. We played in two of the viewing areas - and arriving at the first in the dark, the rain threatening and the wind whistling, to a crowd of zilch was not one of the most inspiring audiences we've had! But (and it makes me proud to be a part of this brilliant band) we started with gusto at the designated hour and had a crowd of souls who'd come out to brave the elements enjoying the performance. If there's one thing we do exceptionally well, it's bringing energy, enthusiasm and gusto to every gig we do - regardless of the circumstances. Our second set started with a much bigger audience (being that much closer to the start of the fireworks display) but it rapidly became apparent the grass we were playing on had a strong inclination to become mud under our feet. That our caller for that set was completely unaware of that fact and called several of our "moving" numbers just made it all the more amusing!

We had a great reception from the audience and there was quite a lot of "Can I bang your drum?" after the set as many of us were staying for the fireworks. I love playing with Batala. That I'm now beginning to remember the tunes helps, too!

And the fireworks! An impressive display but my favourite of the night were the fireworks that had a large reach of twinkling sparkles cascading down. And no, words don't really do justice to fireworks. After depositing my drum back in another band member's vehicle (after the Ingleton Falls gig I know I *could* cycle to a gig with my drum on my back, but when there's no need to, I don't!) I headed off to the pub, only to discover I was really tired and much more in need of food than I'd given myself credit for. I'm always fascinated by the times when I get a really physical reaction to food (either a lack thereof, or an overload) and last night was certainly one. The fact I had a particularly strenuous cycle home (getting drenched while also battling gusty winds) just added to the craziness.

And the cycle in! Again I got drenched, but this time in an utter downpour during a thunderstorm that was followed by amazing sunshine, a double rainbow and the stunning contrast of autumnal leaves' sparkling colours against the black of a post-thunderstorm sky. That it was then dry for a good 90 minutes after (the ride was about 20 minutes - at least 7 of which were during The Drenching) just reinforced my satisfaction of *not* being a fairweather cyclist.

So now I find myself on a quiet Sunday morning, not quite in the mood to do much other than mooch. Which is pretty much what Sundays were designed for, in my book.