More feral permaculture in this latest FeralKevin episode. I discovered it was a real pain to get all the ants and aphids out of the artichokes so I started eating them all together. More sustainable that way, less labor, and more nutrition. And to think, that many would spray and poison our planet and our children to prevent this extra spice and nutrition from being in their food. Why? Because they are grossed out by bugs, I guess.
The California Bay Laurel is one of my favorite trees. They are beautiful, versatile trees — great for climbing and seeking shelter underneath, whether from sun, wind, or rain. Their flowers smell sweet, the leaves are a great field antiseptic and insect repellent as well as for spicing up your soups and beans. The fruit is like a delicious avocado if you can get it just right, and the nuts are an amazing food, sometimes called peppernuts, but when roasted properly have their closest analogues in our culture to coffee and chocolate. And behold, the young red tipped leaves are edible, too, and super good.
Some say the leaves taste like Sassafras, but why read this when you can watch the video below:
When I first got to the current garden I manage, I was an early “permie” (like a trekkie to Star Trek so is a permie to permaculture) and wanted to build a food forest — fast. I planted lots of things in a mad rush with the constant mantra in my mind that the best time to plant a fruit tree is 10 years ago. I planted: feijoa, comfrey, Lycium, yellowhorn, female grafted ginkgo, figs, pomegranates, persimmon, persian mulberry, Ceanothus, Passiflora, Arbutus, Jujube, and Elaeagnus. 3 years later I have the result of my collaboration with this piece of land and the plants that I imported. (Even “native” plants are imported typically from somewhere — Although I did transplant nettles, willows, and several other species from the local wetshed.) Right now, I’m in an Elaeagnus shrubland. They made it. Many other things didn’t.
Most of the talk about this plant is fear of its invasiveness. Most of my YouTube comments have mentioned this as well. First of all, there is no such thing as “invasive”, per se. All plants and other creatures formerly came from somewhere. Dispersed by many natural agents such as the wind, floating seeds, birds, and people. Plants and animals move across the planet. They always have. Camels evolved in North America as did the precursor to the horse. How can gingko or horsetail been invasive when they were here before the dinosaurs? This argument goes very deep, and for more information I suggest going to David Theodoropoulos’s site. So without objective definitions of “invasive” or “native” what sense can we make of invasion biology?
Who benefits from poisioning the land with toxic pesticides (and their combinations), clearcutting, habitat destruction, and generally wreaking havoc on nature? Typically, herbicide companies such as Monsanto. However, don’t blame them exclusively, they are a mere product of the paradigm of civilization run completely off the cliff. (For more on this, read Ishmael).
So back to my feral garden that is an Elaeagnus shrubland. In my area they are not “invasive” because they need summer water to germinate and our summers or essentially water free. I couldn’t get any of the seed to germinate, even when given summer water. Also, this is not an abandoned land like most people conceive of wilderness to be. Everyone one of these berries will be devoured by a community of human foragers. I planted them in full awareness that they are not going to spread into the wildlands here. They are on the top “noxious” or “invasive species” lists in the Eastern U.S. They are said to displace native habitat and reduce biological diversity. This is an irrational conclusion based on questionable studies. Alpha and Omega diversity are increased by having Autumn olive in the East, and it’s a healer of soil, which has been extremely degraded there. The landscapes that the “native” plants there were accostomed to only a few hundred years ago are all but gone, and there is a catastrophically altered landscape in its place. If Autumn Olive thrives in this environment, why not let it?
If it’s a matter of preference or focused native restoration attempt, then use Autumn olive, don’t poison the entire watershed to kill like it’s bad or something. If you have Autumn olive in your area, eat it! It’s an amazing food source.
Based on my research into this subject, I do not subscribe to the construct of an invasive species. However, as an engaged land manager who is dealing with what is actually going on in the ecology I will say this: There is no such thing as an invasive species, but there is such a thing as an irresponsible planting.
This was an amazingly beautiful late winter day.
This is an amazing plant that fits right into a permaculture guild. It fixes nitrogen, and does all the awesome things I talk about in this video.
This is one of my favorite plants. Salsify (Tragopogon porrifolius) is a forager’s wonderplant. All parts are edible (and good!). It only becomes too tough when in flower, but the cool thing is the flowers are also edible — and good. Salsify was traditionally grown in Europe as a vegetable but since has fallen out of favor. In many areas, such as here where I am, this plant grows wild. And beyond that, since the root is the most choice part, it actually provides a substantial amount of food. In a survival situation, the root of this plant could sustain you for quite some time. In some places it’s called Goatsbeard, because of its large puffballs of seeds that are wind dispersed like a dandelion. When the sun hits the fluff it shines golden, and is quite beautiful. Many people also consider it a noxious invasive weed, and kill it any chance they get. In my garden I wild manage it, by not pulling it or weedwhacking it, and let many go to seed. You can cook it just like potatoes or parsnips, my recipe is simple: Pour a generous amount of olive oil in a pan, wash and chop (don’t peel!) the salsify and bake it at 350 degrees for 20 -30 minutes.
I also want to point out that many people pronounce the common name of this plant differently than I do. They say sal (as in Sally) sif (as in “if”) eye. sal sif eye. God bless linguistic diversity (or what’s left of it.) There is no one right way to pronounce salsify, is what I say.
Spring starts before the equinox here in this part of California, and the fields are glowing green. Wild plum flowers are filling the air with their sweet and pungent aroma. California poppies make hillsides glow with their orange petals. In other places, the hills are yellow with mustard flowers (which are delicious, btw). If you look closely, you’ll also notice mugwort leaves (Artemisia vulgaris) springing up from the ground. Only a few inches high, their fresh growth I’ve found to be a great trail nibble. Although still potent when young, I’ll eat a few leaves whilst I’m exploring in the woods. Here, unlike Nat’s report in the video below, mugwort is found mostly in wilderness areas, rather than in abandoned lots and urbanized settings.
I’ve found that the leaves when I eat them not only enhance my dream recall that night, but also subtley change my perception while still in the woods. The flavor alone is mind altering. Be careful not to eat too many, as they are a potent medicine; I’ve heard they can be used in survival situations to treat the dreadful Giardia parasite.
But my favorite way of working with mugwort is in beer brewing. I’ve made several ales by using mugwort instead of hops. Mugwort bitters and preserves the beer like hops, but adds a taste that is uniquely its own. Mugwort has been used in beer making for generations. It is only recently that hops has become the only herb added to beer. “Wort” is a traditional word for herb — hence, mugwort is “herb of the mug.” It used to go hand in hand with beer like hops does now. Mugwort ale when consumed typically causes extremely intense and vivid dreams. Beware!
Here is a video about mugwort from ethnobotanist Nat Bletter:
The following clips are from Dr. Lee Klinger’s talk in Pt. Reyes in Fall 2007. His basic theory on Sudden Oak Death is holistic, taking into account the overall health of the forest. In contrast, the funded researchers are exclusively focused on Phytophtra ramorum as the cause — the disease model. Beyond this, their research is completely founded on the idea that Phytophtra ramorum (Sudden Oak Death) is a recently introduced invasive disease. Klinger believes that the disease was already here, and that the reason the trees are more susceptible to it is acidification, forest decline, and nutrional deficiencies (caused predominantly by the cessation of Native land management practices.)
