January 2011
Editor’s note: Some names have been changed to protect the guilty.
These events are otherwise described accurately to the best of my recollection, at the behest of some farmer friends who sent me on an expedition to determine whether the conditions were suitable for farming.
It now serves as an account of the challenges inherent in growing food in a collapsing civilization.
SUNDAY, JANUARY 16th
My lovely assistant, Mary Pearl Wilson, and myself, departed from Portland in the afternoon.. We arrived at Flying Pig around four pm, at approximately the same time as the chief of Flying Pig’s engineering department, Joe “Fizzy” Fitzgerald, was rising from his slumber and preparing for the ¾ mile hike to the back field.
Myself, Pearl, and Jimmy (Fizzy’s previous assistant) gradually accompanied him to the construction site, as it was, on the other side of two rather new rivers in the middle of the field, submerged in two feet of equally new lake. After wading through these forty degree/testicle deep waters to “the structure” we evaluated the situation which was, as suspected:
A Cluster Fuck.
An Underwater Cluster Fuck, in point of fact.
(Resident artist Mary Pearl’s rendition of the scene in the sans-millet field)
The 5 HP (I think) Komatsu generator on site was submerged in the miscellaneous muddy agricultural flood waste along with us, so we hoisted it up to the deck, which was well designed enough to still be above the floodwaters. This quality of engineering is somewhat negated by the fact that there is currently no roof in the middle. So, standing water accumulates en masse on the deck whenever it rains, which is most of the time. This was easily rectified with a broom I had brought to the build site days earlier for this reason.
As the sun set we returned to the house soaked to the hip and rather chilly, having constructed and repaired nothing at all, nor had we placed any of the rusted roof tins (that were still underwater at the time) onto the roof to prevent future rains from further warping the deck, causing the unsecured expansion joints to bust loose… Which was, by the way, our main purpose for hiking out there in the first place.
We then had dinner, and proceeded to do not much of anything for the rest of the night.
MONDAY, JANUARY 17th
Pearl awakened me bright and early at 11 am, and we went about the grim task of rousing the other humans and procuring food. By, I don’t know, say, one or two in the afternoon… We were fed and stoned, and we donned our already wet gear, gathered some tools, and plodded back out to the aquatectural monstrosity. It was decidedly still in the middle of a large lake, which on the plus side, was slightly shallower that day. It was noted that the amateurish-attempted-clay/metal-barrel-stove and much of the lumber was slowly coming apart and washing away. One of those we were pleased about.
We were fortunate enough to not have the sky pissing rain on us the whole time.
That was nice.
The sun even made a few appearances that afternoon.
Pearl volunteered herself for retrieving the already rusty, now even more rusty, corrugated tin sheeting which was to constitute our roof. She passed them to me, and I passed them up to Fizzy who screwed them into place.
We completed another third of the roof this way.
Until I noticed that one of the cross beams had not been secured, which came as a somewhat of a surprise to the chief engineer as well. As we secured it I also took note that the cross beams had never been installed on the other side.
So,
I examined the generator, poured some water out of the fuel filter, and tested it to ensure we were able to cut lumber before we endeavored to take measurements. It started right up, because apparently, Komatsu builds fucking awesome generators. Yep.
We then used the on site tape measure to check the lengths on three of the six or eight beams required, while I assisted Pearl in floating the lumber out from under the structure like long rafts. We disturbed a small family of mice that had been living in the tarp over the generator (until we displaced them) presently taking residence on a floating 2’x4′.
I became aware after my second measurement (which was a fraction of an inch,) there were ten and twenty of the little lines on the tape, instead of eight and sixteen as expected. This was due to the fact that the tape was in some form of imperial measure foreign to me, in tenths and twentieths not eighths and sixteenths, as our recorded measurements would later indicate.
I ran this past the chief engineer, because I couldn’t quite decipher what I was looking at. He confirmed that this was because the odd tape measure was marked entirely with indecipherable Japanese Kanji.
His exact response was, “FUCK!”
End quote.
By now the Earth was once again completing it’s revolution, finding us without any adequate measuring tools in the middle of a draining but still very noticeable lake. And the sun set on us as we trudged through the mud, squishing and glopping our way back to the house.
After dinner, people made music at length and much was discussed. Including my proposal to construct a new greenhouse out of free glass I trucked down from Portland, meant as an experiment to determine the effectiveness and function of the current farm system, of which there is none, and also as a means of establishing communication between parties, of which there is also none.
At the time of this writing, the experiment is considered a huge success.
Some sound software was downloaded and played with at length by Brunhilda’s brother, with some assistance from a small recording kit I keep in my bag of goodies. We bonded.
I don’t believe any actual decisions or plans of any kind were made, aside from my speculations about possible shapes to make the greenhouse in order to optimize surface area (Which were later abandoned as they proved to be way more fucking complicated trigonometry than I was prepared to cope with.)
Dimensions on our windows (All 1/2” thick double panes) are as follows:
Five each 22 3/8” x 58 1/2”
Four each 22 1/2” x 28 3/4
Four each 20 1/2” x 28 1/2”
Two each 22” x 32”
Two each 28” x 32”
Two each 31 3/8” x 26 5/8”
Two each 34 1/2” x 44 1/2”
And one each of
47 1/2” x 58 1/4”
37 1/2”x 58 1/4”
22 2/8” x 32 1/8”
23” x 28 1/2”
22 3/4” x 28”
34 7/8” x 46 1/2”
35 ½” x 34 1/16”
31 3/8” x 32 3/4”
28 ¾” x 40 1/4”
28 3/8” x 38 1/2”
No problem.
TUESDAY, JANUARY 18th
Pearl and I rose, once again, before the other occupants of the house.
First, we journeyed into Corvallis for organic produce, bread, and apple juice. We returned and prepared a meal of potatoes and purple cabbage cooked in bacon grease… With bacon on the side.
Of course, this succeeded in waking everyone.
After brunchfast Pearl and I arranged and rearranged the numerous glass panels from ‘leaning on the barn’ to ‘on the ground by the barn.’ By jostling them around like a jigsaw puzzle for a while we were able to figure that we have enough glass for a 12’x5′ rectangular greenhouse with a 5′ to 7′ sloping roof of about 15 degrees, like a miniature clone of the greenhouse at River House.
Somewhere in the middle of the day here, Brunhilda came out to the field and requested our presence over in another field and by some trees, so she could share with us, her vision. There were many old tires in this area, most suitable for the construction of agricultural structures no more than 120 sq. ft. in area.
A big part of her vision for that area was that she and Fizzy had been arguing in the house,
And he wasn’t in that field at that moment,
So, she couldn’t see him.
After some elaboration on this, Fizzy came to join us, and in a lucky coincidence, that was the same exact moment I decided to go inside and make more coffee.
Afterwards I returned to the barn to rearrange windowpanes to my satisfaction. I left Pearl in the house, suspecting she would join me later, when in fact she was keeping busy by cleaning the larger and more squalid of two dingy bathrooms.
Well, one bathroom, and one closet with a toilet in it.
Either way, it really needed to be done.
Sometime in between moving glass around, smoking cigarette after cigarette, drawing sketches, and wondering how and out of what the fuck I was going to build this thing, Brunhilda’s brother Logan joined me. It was at this point I was informed that the tongue and groove lumber I had seen used in construction here was pre-fabricated, and that there were no tools on site for work of that kind, save for a Dremel.
Which would take fucking forever.
While I pondered this, Logan showed me around the greenhouse that’s already there.
This had been mentioned before, and summarily dismissed due to it’s proximity to the house, which Brunhilda and Fizzy (and myself) would like to get the hell away from.
After perusing the greenhouse, the pressure to rapidly construct a new greenhouse subsided.
The current greenhouse is sufficient to meet our spring needs. Maybe some of yours too.
Even more sufficient given I don’t currently have the tools to make the one I want.
It’s pretty substantial… Perhaps 8′ wide by 24′ or 30′ long and 6′ high, on the low side. Large, and south facing. Also in need of repair.
Logan had committed to repairing and cleaning up the greenhouse on or by Wednesday, January 19th. If he does, a dollar will be exchanged. If not, I’ll do it when I get back with seeds and dirt and crew and things. Whenever that is.
(It turns out Logan was true to his word. I can’t remember if I win or lose a buck ~ ed.)
At sunset, when I was finished talking to Logan, and looking at shiny glass, and thinking about stuff, I returned to the house to find the bathroom clean, and Pearl not displeased, but entirely ready to return to Portland on day four.
As usual, much talk and little action transpired that night, unless you count me cleaning up the breakfast mess and preparing dinner. Quite a bit of time was spent staring at video feedback on Logan’s 72” plasma TV, as was the plan, and can be expected with such things.
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 19
For the first time on mission, I got up at the somewhat reasonable hour of 9 am. This allowed me enough time to pack up the few things I brought into the house, make coffee, put all the glass back in the barn, clean up the dinner mess, and cook breakfast, before anyone else was up.
After more potatoes and cabbage, we returned to Portland on the magic bus, with the chief engineer in tow.
FINAL ANALYSIS:
Disaster level: 3/5
Competency: 7/10
Communication: 2/10
Likelihood of 2011 crop survival: 50/50
POST SCRIPT
As I am finally having to return to McNutt, tend to the harvest there, as well as constructing cold frames for my remaining urban plot, The Work at Flying Pig is on hold. Brunhilda is expected in town this weekend, so she will finally have the opportunity to check out some of my farm plots, and see if that’s the sort of cultivation she wants on her land.
If events continue at their present rate, starts and transplants should be in by February 15th, and hopefully the second greenhouse will also be completed. One new router is on the docket, along with miscellaneous other hand tools which are scarce on site. The report from Brunhilda is that there are at least five shovels, as many hoes, and a few rakes. I told her we’ll need more.
Also it would be nice if the structure got a roof, or at least a tarp on it sometime soon. Perhaps there will be time before the mad rush to work the soil with the few dry days of sunlight we’re bound to get, which could be very well spent relocating and rearranging those tires into small dwelling/storage units.