Harvesting Willow with Angels

The sunflower stalks are dry and the seed heads are spent. It is the time of year to clear out some of the dead growth to make way for new shoots. Last Friday I carefully broke up the sunflower stalks and put them on a compost pile where the insects inside the stems can continue hibernating until the weather warms up. It is unseasonably warm right now. We are at least three weeks ahead of where we were last year.

I came to the Means of Production garden to harvest the willow with the EYA and Ruth and her group of mentally challenged adults she cares for in North Vancouver. Gardening is a big part of their life and they do really good work. Most of the group is (frankly) more focused and productive than I am. I'm out of practice from having the winter off and I spend time dilly-dallying about and enjoying the weather. I give some sunflower stalks to one of the guys to break up and he keeps coming and putting his forehead really close to mine in for a unique greeting. He makes me smile.

Ruth is Swiss, with intensely beautiful blue eyes. She is a biodynamic farmer and a eurythmy instructor. Eurythmy is a movement system that incorporates phonetics with movement. One of the men with Downs does a demonstration for me with fluid, graceful gestures. Ruth talks about the people in her care with reverence, as if they have a special relationship to the Divine, and she really believes that gardening is the best way for them to become a creative community. She talks passionately about the way that the energy of a garden can be a healing influence on a local and global scale.

So why should Ruth's program get funding cuts? Who would have the shortsightedness to fail to acknowledge the work of someone who is one of our society's treasures? Bloody hell, what can I say? These cuts are driving me mad.

These are the stumps of the yellow willow after they've been harvested. The green willow and the black willow are preferable because they grow nice long straight poles that don't need to have the little branches clipped off. Ruth says the black and green willow have more uses and the yellow willow is more for decorative work.

New growth comes at the base of the sedum in the bee garden. Crocuses are blooming too!

The tea plant is looking very healthy.

Those willow poles are huge!

Here's another shot to show you the scale of the willow.

This brings us to a full circle in the Beespeaker saijiki blog. We can look back to see photos of the willow harvest from last year and the pictures of the big snowstorm during the Christmas of 2008. It's humbling and inspiring to see that nature happens when we make other plans. That's a good thing to remember as we look ahead to another year of programming in the Means of Production Garden.

Bare Fennel

The Natural Gardener by Val Bourne is one of my favorite gardening books. She says you should leave some of your dry fennel stalks standing over the winter because they will house insect larva through the winter. I looked at the pith in one of the stalks and saw that it had been burrowed into by two tiny insects, perhaps native been. In the meantime, the new fennel fronds are starting to grow.

After the crazy storm last night, the afternoon turned unseasonable warm and there were a couple of healthy looking bees flying in and out of the hive. If they're strong enough they could find some hazel catkins or winter-blossoming jasmine. I cleared some of the dead bodies from the entrance to the hive. There were a couple of bees barely clinging to life on the cinder blocks. Temperatures fall towards evening and they will no longer be able to move back into the warmth of the hive. This will be their last day.

The rains have washed the mud from the sunflower roots and left their delicate tracery for us to admire. I feel like a stranger in my own garden because it's been so long since I've been back there to take a look. It feels bare and exposed. I am embarrassed that the back corner is so overgrown with ivy and the evil invasive "money plant" or Lamium. The stones and shells I've placed here and there are like buried treasure that has been revealed by the rain. Soon the forsythia will bloom and the roses will need to be pruned and then spring will be well on its way.

Long Night's Moon

There are two full moons this month. The first was early in the month and the Algonquin call it The Cold Moon and the second moon in December is called The Long Night's Moon. The moon names of this month refer to the wintry surface of the earth, blanketed by snow and patterned by frost, but also to the secret life unfolding underneath the surface of the season. The Sioux know that Deer are shedding their horns while the trees pop with hoar frost, but also the buffalo's fetus is growing large in her uterus. The Cheyenne note the month as the one when the wolves run together in packs. The Wishram move to their winter houses and the Tlingit know that the unborn seals are getting their hair. Such close attention to the details of seasonal markers makes the indigenous people keen observers of global warming. The Haidi in Alaska see the white ptarmigan feasting on ripe red berries in the snow, and the Passamaquoddy know where the fish run under the ice.

Here in Vancouver we have only had one snowfall this year, and now we are back to rain. I took a photo of the bees last week and every time I look at it I wish I could see inside the hive and know their secrets. What do you see under the surface of December? Soon it will be solstice, the longest night of the year, and then this New Year's Eve will be a Blue Moon. I wonder how often that happens? I think it's probably very special. Happy Solstice to all of you and have a peaceful and joyful holiday season.



Abenaki: Winter Maker Moon
Algonquin: Cold Moon, Long Night's Moon
Anishnaabe, Chippewa, Ojibwe: Small Spirits Moon
Northern Arapaho: Popping Trees Moon
Assiniboine: Center Moon's Younger Brother
Cherokee: Snow Moon
Eastern Cherokee: Moon When the First Snows Fall in the Mountains
Cheyenne: Moon When the Wolves Run Together
Eastern Comanchee: Big Cold Moon, Evergreen Moon, 13th Moon-Year Moon
Cree: When the Young Fellow Spreads the Brush
Cree: 13 Moon version--Frozen Over Moon, Scattering Moon
Creek: Big Winter Moon
Haidi: Ripe Berries Moon
Hopi: Month of Respect
Kalapuya: Not Bad Weather
Kiowa: Real Goose Moon
Lakota: Moon When the Deer Shed their Antlers.
Passamaquoddy: Frost Fish Moon
San Juan: Ashes Fire Moon
Shawnee: Eccentric Moon
Sioux: Moon of Popping Trees/When Deer Shed their Horns, Buffalo Cow's Fetus is Getting Large
Tlingit: Unborn Seals are Getting Hair
Winnebago: Big Bear's Moon
Wishram: Her Winter Houses Moon
Zuni: Turning Moon or The Sun has Traveled South to his Home to Rest Before he Starts Back on his Journey North

Moon When All is Gathered In

Early this month I harvested my last Cherokee Trail of Tears beans just before the rains came. I cut down the fennel and put the rest of those seeds in the compost because they had been exposed to too much moisture already. The time of harvesting marigold seeds had passed because it's just too darned wet. There were some chocolate cosmos and tall coneflowers blooming along with the smaller tagetes, but now even they are sodden and bedraggled. I'm kicking myself because I did not harvest our hops before they rusted, but I do like the look of them climbing on the rails of our front stairs. I hope the bees are warm and dry inside their hive square dancing and playing canasta, or whatever they do to amuse themselves over the long winter months.

Vancouver has had light frosts since mid October, and at least one hard frost in November, but mostly we just have the weather that feels colder than it really is because it is so wet. And have I mentioned the wind? Yes, there is that too, blowing the scraps of wet oak leaves into your face and causing the rain to seep into every pore of your exposed flesh. The wind shakes the rain from trees full of fat robins feasting on bright red berries, so that the water drops right down the back of your neck and you curse yourself for buying this jacket on sale because it did not have a hood.


The Algonquin call the November Moon the Full Beaver Moon, either because they trapped the animals for winter furs or because the beavers were getting ready to hibernate. Most of the Native North American names for this month's moon acknowledge the frost and the beginning of winter. It's poignant to see that for the Mowhawk nation it was a Time of Much Poverty, but for the Potawatomi it was literally the month of their Thanksgiving turkey feast. In times past, rivers froze, hides were scraped, and the snow began to fall. The Wishram Moon name could very well describe the Vancouver moon in November: Snowy Mountains Morning Moon. And so all has been gathered in and winter is on its way to Vancouver. Sigh. My friend reminds me that every day now is one day closer to spring.


Algonquin: Full Beaver Moon
Anishnaabe: Freezing Moon
Abenaki: Freezing River Maker Moon
Assiniboine: Frost Moon
Cherokee: Trading Moon
Eastern Comanche: Heading to Winter Moon, Thanking Moon
Cree: The Moon the Rivers Begin to Freeze
Creek: Moon When the Water is Black with Leaves
Haidi: Snow Moon
Hopi: Month of Fledgling Hawk
Kiowa: Geese-Going Moon
Lakota: Moon when Winter Begins
Mohawk: Time of Much Poverty
Potawatomi: Month of the Turkey & Feast
Shawnee: Long Moon
Sioux: Moon of the Falling Leaves
Tewa Pueblo: Moon When All is Gathered In
Tlingit: Scraping Moon
Winnebago; Little Bear's Moon
Wishram: Snowy Mountains in the Morning Moon
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In Memorium

I spent part of All Soul's Day at the MOP Garden. I was relieved to see that the bee garden hadn't been vandalized since I last visited and calendula and marigold were still blooming. One stray honeybee was desperately searching the rain-drenched petals of a yellow marigold for pollen or nectar. A syrphid fly hovered above the calendula. One of the reasons I grew the larger or "African" marigolds was to use them in an altar for the All Souls evening at Mountainview Cemetery, but I ran out of time to assemble it. So I decided to make an impromptu wreath for Leonard's garden.

Leonard was one of the guerilla gardeners who would plant things in the bee garden when I wasn't looking. I was frustrated when plants appeared in spaces we had designated for other flowers, especially when some of the rogue plants were unlabeled or contained invasive species. One day I discovered that the wiry man who'd been mysteriously repairing our willow fences was an avid gardener and loved "rescuing" plants other people were throwing away. When I finally met him and explained my point of view, he was very accomodating. "I'll give you a bed to plant in," I said, and I pointed to a bed just south of the bee garden surrounded by a willow fence. He filled it with a hodge podge of flowers and vegetables--from geraniums to broccoli.

Then about three weeks later, Leonard's partner saw me and told me the shocking news. My guerilla gardener had died suddenly of a drug overdose. His partner seemed very resigned, and still in shock himself. They had been together for many years. Leonard had been living with HIV and addicted to drugs for a long time. "This garden was his refuge," his partner said.

We left his garden as it was and kept it watered until one day someone pulled up all the plants. I was angry and sorrowful. It's a heart-breaking place to work sometimes, the old MOP, but it was another humbling experience of letting go of controlling nature in a public space.

After making the wreath, I harvested the tobacco I planted with seeds from Dan Jason that were grown from a 1000 year old tobacco plant. I sowed them quite late in the season, which is why they didn't bloom.

There's a lovely green amaranth plant in the garden. The seeds are just ripe now.

I left the calendula for the bees. There was some white sage and a bit of anise hyssop blooming as well, but I harvested most of the hyssop for seeds.

There was a big movie shoot happening down the hill and they were attempting to bounce sunlight off a reflective screen. It's lucky they had sunlight at all at this time of the year.

I savored my time in the garden, knowing it was one of the last beautiful warm days of 2009. The golden light shimmering through the yellowing leaves of the willow trees, and the honeybees were milling about the entrance to the hive. There are still bits and pieces of Leonard's mystery plants in the corners of the bee garden, and I don't have the heart to pull them out.

All your sad or merrying, you must tell the bees.

Good-bye Leonard, Gordon, and Peter. The gardens grow on in memory of you.

More Pumpkin Love

I was thrilled to be able to take my mom and dad out to UBC Farm for the first time on Thanksgiving weekend. We bought some cookies, fall flowers, beets, salad greens, and a nice big Cinderella pumpkin to make into two pies.

Mom helped me gather a few more seeds for my teaching gig. I am making seed balls with grades one through seven, so we're going through a lot of seeds. I have resorted to buying flax, buckwheat and fennel seeds to supplement my collection. That way we can also make single source seed-balls to know exactly what we're planting.

The squash curing in these green house were so beautiful dad and I had to take a few photos. Let's be thankful for the bees who pollinated all these lovely cucurbits!



Here I am, choosing our pumpkin. I cut it up and baked it that evening. Since it was quite watery, I ended up draining the pulp quite a bit before making the pie the next day. I like to use chai spices in my pumpkin pie with lots of cardamom and some freshly grated ginger. I also use yogurt in my recipe.

Tonight I made a pumpkin lasagne too, with layers of the pumpkin seasoned with salt and pepper, some ricotta cheese mixed with yogurt and grated chevrette cheese on top. We make our lasagne in a little loaf pan for just the two of us because my son won't eat things that are layered with cheese.

Our bees are much happier since they have been combined (see below). They were still out bringing in pollen today, since things have dried out a bit again after our bout of heavy rain. I hope they get a bit more sunshine to get all those last bits of pollen into storage.

Combining Hives

I wanted to post a few photos here of our Two Block Diet beehive. I am a member of a wonderful neighborhood group that has pooled resources to make urban agriculture happen in our backyards, front yards, and sometimes on the street itself. We had one hive which split into two when it swarmed in the spring. The hives never became strong enough on their own two survive the winter so we had to combine them. Beekeeping has been very rewarding, but equally as stressful. I really worry about our bees. (Too much empathy, I know!) I recommend that you spend at least one full season with a mentor before you try beekeeping at home. I am also wondering about the amount of sustainable bee forage in Vancouver. Have we maxed it out already? Will this stress out the native bees? I have so many questions. We needed to put a piece of paper between the two hive, so Jean chose one with a photo of the Dalai Lama for good karma! We slash the paper with an exacto knife and place it on the hive before putting the top back on. One of our mentors told us never to have two beehives open at the same time. Once the bees chew through the paper they will be used to the smell of the other bees and will accept them as part of the same hive.

Look at this lovely bright yellow comb! Now we consolidated the hive so that there were not too many empty frames to help the bees stay warm when we close them up for the winter, which will be soon. We left this frame out for the bees to rob because it didn't fit in the consolidated hive.

We tried in vain to find the queen in the weaker hive so we could "humanely" kill her. Jean thinks she may have already died since we could not find uncapped brood. In any case, we had to combine the hives and let the bees duke it out.

We put the weaker hive on top of the strong hive and put in plenty of sugar water to help them deal with the stress.

In the right of this photo you can see the spray bottle full of sugar water Jean used to calm the bees instead of smoking them. Cleaning the sugar water from their bodies keeps them occupied, and it is a much less invasive tactic than smoking them. We also dusted them a bit with powdered sugar in case they had any residual varroa mites. I was a bit concerned about the amount of bee excrement I was seeing in the yard on the lawn furniture. This could be a sign of Nosema, but I think it was just because of the cooler weather and the stress we were putting them under. I really hope they survive the winter. They are very productive today so as long as we have another couple weeks of good weather I think the kids will be all right.