Mountains and Valleys in NZ ~ September 25 - December 5, 2011

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When I wrote last I was enjoying a festive spell with Dan, Kate, and Jett to cheer rugby and marriage in Auckland, NZ. What a treat it was for me to be part of their lovely marriage day, and pack in the snuggles with the most adorable Best Man, Jett Jones. Even after Team Jones flew home, I kept the rugby banner flying and trooped off in spirit to the pubs in my Auckland neighborhood to watch the final rounds and the nerve-wrackingly historic superfinal of the Rugby World Cup. No one was surprised but all were thrilled nonetheless when the kiwi All Blacks gave the quiet nation a reason to shout with pride at a well-deserved title victory.

In fact, a lot of my time in New Zealand was confusing for me, and filled with experiences that were both up and down. Family time was delicious, but I was in shock at being back in the city and coordinating with people I care so much about after months of farm life and completely independent time. I spent longer in Auckland than I intended, waiting for some free spots at farms I was looking forward to visiting, and initially it made me grumpy to be stuck in this not-amazing-at-all city. But in fact the Auckland time turned into a needed hiatus when I could go for long morning runs, spend hours painting for my illustrated travel journals, read Jane Austen and Homer and Murikami, cook and laugh with new friends, cheer rugby, and enjoy long showers and sunny afternoons at my cozy Auckland hostel, a spacious and pristinely finished Victorian mansion called Verandahs, after the huge sunny porches where my hostel friends and I passed many sunny happy afternoons and festive evenings. The farms I ended up working on in NZ – a small family property and an historic commune (!) were all physically gorgeous with gardens I loved working in, but the people were crazypants (unwelcoming spirits, poor management, head lice, dirty living space, give-me-something-for-nothing hippies, poor potty training, poor food rations, and bickering) so I cut all my farm stays down from several weeks to just one before I could gracefully escape. Of the friends I met in New Zealand, a couple turned a little sour, but several have become close girlfriends who I look forward to meeting up with again on the journey.

I found myself thinking a great deal at the end of my time in NZ about one of the most important concepts I’ve returned to again and again in my life: community. Through personal experience, philosophical study, and ongoing discussion with mindful heartfelt folks everywhere, I’ve collected a lot of thoughts on this topic and am always intrigued by the depth and complexity there to continue to experience and mull over. This year has taught me that there are so many parallels between the qualities of nurturing, growing communities whether they’re in a small town, a family, a classroom, a garden, a workers’ collective, or a big city… in literature and philosophy and religion it’s human nature to seek and explore these nurturing spheres where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and in turn the whole enhances the parts as members with individual integrity and a place in the big embrace. This might sound like a tangential thought-ramble, but actually it’s the best I can sum up my experience in New Zealand, which was filled with the ups and downs of real life, but all meaningful in the embrace of the bigger view of my travels that this time and thinking gave me.

Fortunately, I ended my time in New Zealand on a delightful note with two weeks of wilderness hiking and adventuring along the coast and extraordinary mountain ranges in the north bit of the south island. There I was treated to some of the most glowing landscapes, endless winding rainforest beaches (viewed with toes in the sand), endless winding bare mountain ridges (viewed with boots on the peaks), cozy mountain huts to take off those boots and rest weary hiking feet curled up with books, hidden pubs lively with folk music and amazing honey beer hearty food and chocolate truffles, and clifside garden oasis campsites where my little orange tent smiled. The nicest part of New Zealand was making some lovely new friends – at the hostel, in the garden, on the mountains, and in the national parks – with whom I traveled, have kept in touch, and look forward to further traveling fun in the near future.

Nonetheless, I was really happy to come back to Australia in early December. And I’m excited to see where my journey unfolds from here.

“Try!” International Superstar Jett Jones Rucks Love Galore in NZ ~ September 11-25, 2011

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After 10 glorious days on Wendy’s Hill Top Farm, I said warm goodbyes and headed back down the long gravel road to the big city, where I caught a plane over to Auckland for the family part of the journey. Dan, my great rugby-playing little brother (little only in years!), and his lovely partner Kate, and their adorable little (really, little) squirt Jett have been bouncing with excitement about this trip to NZ for the Rugby World Cup for over a year. In fact, Dan has been dreaming of coming to NZ to watch its famous rugby since he was in high school (when he made it onto the front cover of Rugby USA magazine! (proud sisters can brag, Dan, it’s ok ;))).

So the first and smallest-print headline here is JONESES SEE RUGBY WORLD CUP IN NZ!!!!!!!! We’ve been to four live matches and enjoyed plenty others in lively pubs. The rugby has been thrilling – the Kiwis are a humble and strong crowd, but they and the world know their All Blacks are consistently the dominant rugby power in the world. In fact, the Kiwis are so steady and magnanimous that they often cheer for the US and other up-and-coming teams – they want to see the rest of the world love their signature sport as much as they do. We’ve seen the All Blacks in person twice, and a few other games as well. As Kate said, “We’re here for the All Blacks. When we see the US we say, ‘oh, good job guys!’ but it’s really the Blacks that we’re most excited for.” I got Jett his dangerous All Black’s onesie, and he also sports the fleece All Blacks booties and chewchie. We’ve been driving up and down the North Island from Auckland to Wellington and back in Dan & Kate’s camper van – Dan is a terrific driver on these windy green roads, watched over by stunning mountains, jagged lush green hills, and millions of sheep. They’ve been staying at camper parks, sometimes I camp alongside in my wonderful little orange tent, and sometimes I stay at nice hostels. Both Wellington and Auckland have beautiful waterfronts for running, hip coffee shops where I’ve been catching up on correspondence and enjoying endless delicious baked goods, and a pleasant relaxed culture. Thank you kiwis!

But the real headline here is that Jett – at four months now internationally famous for his adorableness, sense of humor, and rational personality – apparently managed to come up for air from the wild flurry of snuggles and kisses that his parents love on him long enough to persuade them to GET MARRIED!! !!!!! DAN & KATE ARE GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!!!! (I’m glad this awesome team decided this on their own, because if they hadn’t I was planning on putting Dan into a headlock until he agreed to get his great lady Kate for super-certain.) In fact, they’re so much the let’s-have-fun-with-no-fuss type of folks who plan for spontaneous fun that they decided to GET MARRIED HERE WHILE THEY’RE IN NEW ZEALAND!!!!! IN FACT THEY’RE GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW, SEPTEMBER 29, 2011!!!!!! (exclamation points are justified here, right??!!!!)! The folks back home allegedly got this news a bit before Team Jett headed off, but they kept it a good secret from me until they told me in person when they arrived!!!! Kate has a great dress, the ceremony will be at City Hall, I’m bringing champagne and cake and bowtie for Jett, then we’re going over to the Sky Tower right across the street for more celebration, and romping around the city just having fun for the rest of the day. Jett and I will be the witnesses, so we may need matching corsages. Here I thought I would be kind of the third wheel by camping in my little orange tent alongside their camper van, but now I find out I’ve booked myself on their honeymoon! ha! It’s ok, we’re all having fun and giving each other space. Here in Auckland Dan & Kate will get to stay at the fancy house of a friend’s friend (so they don’t have to go back to the campervan on their wedding night!), and I have a comfy bed in a gorgeous and pristinely revived old Victorian hostel, so we’re all quite happy. I can’t wait to pass out more stories soon about the final four days of the Jones Family Adventure in NZ. Love love love!!!!

Salad Heaven, Compost Toilet Nirvana in Cooktown, AU ~ September 1-10, 2011

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Apparently those who make it up to Cooktown in the tippy top corner of Australia share some curiosity and wisdom about the edge of life.

George: uneven stubble all over his head, some crumbs from breakfast stuck in the beard region, and is going to drive the coach with me and my luggage up to Cooktown. George also drives the regional schoolbus; he looks comfortable behind the wheel. He’s the first Australian who observed my luggage without disdain. I felt “no worries!” as he shepherded me and my luggage and another nice Taiwanese girl up over the 100 miles of gravel road, through numerous streams that cross the path (local man says: “many a car has been lost down there”), and amongst four hours of the extremely thoughtful discussion of politics of culture and race in Australia and the USA. Smiling his eyes into the rearview mirror and yelling back to me over his shoulder, he asked a lot of good questions. George was, apparently, a talisman for a a short part of my life up in Cooktown that has touched and changed me. When I arrived on Wendy Seabrook’s Hill Top Farm, I literally started to shake, my eyes teared up with the beauty resonating in the place and people there. Real tears!

First it was the physical environment that caught my breath – not just of Wendy’s land, but moreso of her home and lifestyle that somehow managed the simple trick that’s so difficult for us city folk: she opened her doors to the land and let in the magic. She created the welcome and got out of the way as it entered.

Cooktown is up near the equater, just a stone’s throw from Papua New Guiney. It’s the tropics and there’s no real difference between inside and outside. There are few doors, most houses have entire sides open where a wall would have been in silly chilly climates, screens or open space replace glass on windows and cupboards. Tropical trees (bananas, pawpaw, palms, curly vines) are fresh green all the time standing up against the red clay earth. It’s always warm, hot during the day, but the breeze is constant and mischievous.

Beauty is not man-made here, and the smart humans organize their lives in order to have a great view of the earth beauty everywhere. Wendy’s farm is home for running golden fields with hay bales glowing red in the sunset; a large home- and market-garden growing a veggie and tropical fruit paradise; two horses, Marcus the optimist and Captain the pessimist; cascades of fresh green banana trees rustling in the constant breeze, trellises of vines shading winding red pathways; a family of geese, the snow white kind with orange bills and feet, parading around minding their own business.

The living space Wendy etched into the land reflects the grace in the land. A long low verandah with comfy chairs, couch, coffee table, and dining table functioned as the living room, overlooking the fields and gardens. The loft-style farmhouse constructed completely of warm dark hard wood, with enormous doors that stand always open, wide clean warm space on the floor and up above the tall cupboards in the air above. A sparse few pieces of furniture and household items – linens and cookery in cool screened cupboards, books free to breathe on open shelves – feel appreciated and placed with care. Nothing extra, everything lovely.

Wendy herself was to me the Julia Child of organic farming. In physical presence Wendy is tall and solidly strong, wears long elegant skirts that she buys from thrift stores for farming, has honest clear eyes and a quick smile, and is comfortable in her own independent skin. She is also expert at her work. Expert in the way of having studied the foundation with such precision and intelligence that now she could just appear to throw things together with a few twirls of the elbows and wipe her dirty fingers on her apron with a chuckle declaring “that’s good enough”. Of course it would be perfect. Most of all, both Julia and Wendy seemed to savors their lives and work, clearing away the work part at the end of the day to sit back on the comfy sofa, bare feet up on coffee table, wine or home-brewed beer in hand, to enjoy a great meal from the garden…and some chocolate at the end.

I wanted to learn from Wendy. Her ecological philosophy of permaculture was predicated on giving every naturally occurring organism and element a home where it could do its proper function, and thereby enhance the other elements and organisms around it. She had grown up in London, did her PhD in Ecology at university in Australia, did her research on cane toads (we actually had a number of these enormous residents on the farm; they only come out at night but they shared my love for the winding path to the bathroom) in the Scottish Hebrides, and eventually came up to Cooktown to start her own self-sufficiency farm. On the verandah’s coffee table was a book called “My Complete Guide to Self-Sufficiency”, with ‘70s style illustrations of plotting land, planting grain, making bread, honing nails, building chairs, and 100 other useful activities. Wendy said she got this book when she was 14. She’s a scientist, not a hippie, and her approach is based on an understanding of biological elements and relationships. Now, she spent a lot of time doing things to make good soil, which she explained as meaning lots of good microbes doing their natural thing. Humans can help by mulching, planning routes where the chickens and cows could wander and enjoy the grass, leaves, and root veggies while pooping good fertilizer, and introducing as many native plants as possible. Wendy politely covered her grimace as I described Graham’s tractor; in response to my questioning, she described a tractor as having an effect similar to a tornado on the delicate rich ecosystem of soil. I came to see that “organic” is a broad spectrum, and became hungry to learn more about permaculture (just out of curiosity and interest, whether or not there will ever be chickens wandering around 20 Fayette St.).

Over the days I was on the farm, I could see that Wendy really lives this philosophy of natural relationship and mutual interdependence as the key to greatest positive productivity, and not only as a biologist and a permaculture farmer, but also as a human. She cares about and successfully fosters natural and happy roles and relationships for all of us – worms and people – on the farm… she fed us all well from the land, expressed her appreciation for us, and let us contribute the best ways we could, without taking more from us than we wanted to give. She enjoys her WWOOFers as guests, working enthusiastically with us for four hours in the morning and then insisting that we take the rest of the day to relax however we wanted, savoring great food and the fun of cooking together, and listening and learning from us as we did from her. I don’t harbor complaints about my prior WWOOFing experiences, but Wendy’s was by far the most considerate and sustainable of the situations I’ve experienced, and it’s no wonder it brought out the best in all of us.
Wendy’s beautiful farmstay cabin was already occupied by two other lovely WWOOFers, so my accommodation was in a tent, which Wendy outfitted with several fluffy pillows, two air mattresses, and linens and wool blankets. Then my heart squeezed as I saw her coming across the lawn with the finishing touch to my tent-house: a bedside table with a little green-and white-striped table cloth and a tiny green lamp with an extension cord that she rigged from the house to my tent. “It’s just so nice to sit in bed with a book,” Wendy said.

The two other lovely WWOOFers were a Japanese couple, Nozomi and Yusuke – they had met over the course of two years of WWOOFing in Japan and New Zealand before coming to Australia, and had been through professional and personal journeys themselves. Nozomi had been hospitalized and incapacitated with auto-immune diseases for years before she realized that organic food was a major key to her own recovery, so she started WWOOFing! Plus she liked to sew and cook and was fun to do projects with! Yusuke had worked himself to the brink for Microsoft as a translator, and was finding a healthy connected life in WWOOFing (and his great lady). Plus he had read a lot of Haruki Murikami and was great fun to philosophize and discuss language with! They were excellent cooks, taught me to make tempura, and taught me a lot of Japanese words. Every time I pulled out a Japanese word I was greeted with the Japanese “oooooh!” and “eeehhhhh!” of joyful affirmation, which was all the encouragement I needed to paste together Janglais on a regular basis.

When I signed up for WWOOFing I was looking forward to ending my farm days sweaty and dirty and tired from new and real tasks; Wendy’s farm was the first place where I experienced this for real. Through the rock-hard red clay earth we dug up fence posts, cleared land for a new cabin, and planted new crops. We wheeled huge bales of hay around and spread them over the beds for mulch, and we prepared a paddock for three cows that are expected any day now. Wendy herself was strong as any farmer – I would work and work and work at a task that she would come over and accomplish with a stroke. On one of these occasions she whispered to me, “strength brings independence”; I think she knew I admired her and was a strong person in my own right, how eager I was to do the sweaty work, and that I was invigorated and humbled by the fun hard work we did on her farm. The work left me grinning, dripping in sweat, plastered with clay mud and whiskers of mulch on every bit of skin, and with blisters on my pick-ax hand. I was happy. Yusuke, the only guy on the farm, referred to all of the work we did on Wendy’s as “man’s work”. Wendy laughed, I said it was “real work” and regularly volunteered for the most real tasks. Nonetheless, in the afternoons I relished the free time to work on paintings, knitting, sewing, reading, chatting and cooking and practicing my Japanese with my WWOOFing friends.
We all know that food is fun, but Wendy’s farm was the first time food was really, really fun out on my WWOOFing ranch. Fun healthy, hearty, organic (the first 100% organic food I’ve had since WWOOFing); fun to pick virtually all of our food straight from the garden (the first farm with a self-sufficiency garden that I’ve worked on); and fun fun fun to cook with Nozomi, Yusuke, and Wendy are actually great cooks. Another important element of self-sufficiency: Wendy brewed her own beer. Fun! My Japanese friends led us in magnificent fresh dinners, and I introduced well-decked and fluffy salads for daily lunch. Nozomi said this was “salad heaven!”

We also ate a lot of bananas on Wendy’s farm. The bananas were coming on in this season, so it became a challenge and a project to concoct as many banana recipes as possible. Wendy’s banana cake was a gooey delight, which we enjoyed at morning tea for many, many days. And the banana chips that she put on the roof to dry in the sun were sampled every time we walked by. Banana tempura was a must-add for any tempura meal – sweet and rich, they just wanted ice cream. Wendy also made banana ice cream. But the real star of the banana show was the Roasted Campfire Banana With Chocolate Treasure that we made at the finale of a feast under the stars one night. Start with ORGANIC bananas raised with love; stick the banana (skin still on) onto the grill and cook till oozy, probably black on the outside; then cut a long slit through the skin and into the banana lengthwise, and insert some good organic chocolate (we used Green & Black’s dark organge and Aztec spice chocolate – mmm mmmm mmm) and let it melt; peel and enjoy – you’ll be messy & happy, guaranteed.

An important part of my experience on Wendy’s farm was getting to know a bit about her community of amazing friends up in Cooktown. She had a group of wild independent women, several of whom had coincidentally also grown up in England, and all of whom had built their own houses and were farming their own land in Cooktown. But Wendy’s partner Glen was the most fascinating to me. Glen was half Mauri in heritage, had grown up in Cooktown before motor cars arrived, had spent a big chunk of his childhood in the bush of Papua New Guiney where he lived a Swiss-Family-Robinson life, had mined for gold as a young man, literally paid for the property on which he eventually build his house with actual CHUNKS OF GOLD, then built a house that looked like an enormous teepee birdhouse from the massive “ironwood” on his land. Glen’s house was like a museum or a movie set – all wood, inside and out, enormous canopy ceiling stretched over, indoor balconies, couches suspended from the ceiling on swinging cables, his own carvings of rainforest creatures into the massive wood beams that made up the whole place, lamps he had made from enormous conch shells and lights salvaged from boats on the shore, and tables and chairs and counters all the most beautiful knotty wood polished to a silky finish. Both Wendy and Glen had been married previously, but they had a fun relationship now where they each had their own farms and projects just down the bumpy road from one another; they enjoyed fish and chips at Glen’s house on Tuesdays, banquets at Wendy’s house on Saturdays, and fishing trips when the weather was nice. Glen chatted to me about one of his daughters, Jenny, who had just started working as a “Jilleroo” – that’s a female bull catcher, as in an authentic cowgirl catching wild bulls – up on the most remote tip of Australia’s Cape York. Real deal, folks.

Now, at last, it’s time to talk about the compost toilet. Down one of the red curving pathways from the house, through a trellis of banana leaves, you’ll find steps up to two stately wooden doors, fine shiny brass fixtures, a polished branch holding recycled TP, the cedar-smelling throne, and a bucket with a rose-printed china teacup in a nest of cedar shavings that await sprinkling. The shower’s virtues were similar, and its cheerful brass knobs and tall pipes and sunny cool corners where the soapy water ran away over warm sandy concrete were charming, yes indeedy, but in my heart the compost toilet will always remain #1. On my last day on the farm, Yusuke saw me doing a drawing of the compost toilet and chuckled, “this is an impressive place for you!” It’s the truth, poopy or not.

Sweet Sweet Sweet Potatoes in Mareeba, AU ~ August 1-25, 2011

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Three weeks on a sweet potato farm way out in the country up in the northeast corner (Mutchilba, if you’re curious on Google Earth) have left me a beaming and thoroughly happy Farmer Jones. There was no internet or phone, so this is my first missive to everyone (please don’t worry or be annoyed if you don’t hear from me – there are so many places in this country that have no phone or internet, and no one seems to tell me or know ahead of time if my next destination will be accessible). Regardless, I had an amazing time on Farm #2 and extended my stay there to stay 10 days more. Here’s what made the sweet, sweet, sweet potato farm one of the best experiences of my life:

Graham & Jan Godfrey’s genuine and generous spirit, welcoming about 10 WWOOFers into their home and livelihood with the intent of making it an experience that will see us all grow, learn, and laugh. They shared their time, knowledge, festivities, family table & delicious dinners, (home brewed lime gin, chili vodka, and beer), life wisdom, soccer games, fishing trips, humor, parents, and constant good nature. I admire and enjoy them as people and their lifestyle.

Gorgeous Mutchilba. 500m above sea level, the “tablelands” are rolling plains and farm country surrounded on all sides by distant red gold mountains sloping away; the enormous sky is pinned down to the horizon falling away over the curving earth; everything feels round and glowing, like being a bird…on a farm. This was our “office”.

Graham Godfrey, an original out-outback character. Monster smile, red bristly beard, weathered Acubra hat (think Crocodile Dundee), strong handshake, thick accent, bare feet most days, all covered in the dust of the farm where he grew up and now harvests sweet potatoes and limes, sometimes peanuts & lettuce & watermelon, great family of three adorable kiddos (they also sport their own Acubras) and lovely strong farm wife who moved to Mutchilba from England; she keeps it all pinned down. Graham answered my 1,000,000 questions about farming and the land and creatures with interest, and got me interested in biodynamic farming and the Steiner school… He also had a great sense of fun and wanted everyone working on the farm to learn and experience new things – from snakes to sweet potatoes to fishing to lime gin to the connection between the moon and farming. When I said, “barefoot works for you, Graham?” he said, “This is a pretty good country to be barefoot in, Blu.”
“Blu”. This means me; Australian for “redhead”. For now I’m trading “Ms. Jones” for “Blu” – that’s ok with me for now. I like my farm self (“farm style” as Eriko says) – it feels whole and fresh and free out here.
Amazing people – new friends – from far & wide. Eriko has one of the two biggest smiles I’ve ever encountered (Elizabet Zedd from OHigh gets the #1 prize for life) and a bright sensitive wise spirit to match; she was a Starbucks barista and jazz saxophonist in Tokyo before her journey; her sax music kept us company in the afternoons; her conversation was welcomed insight and humor in the evening since we were roommates. I get to see her again in Melbourne, where she’ll be for the next year and where I’m certain to stop through on my journeys; and Tokyo! Mom, she wants to meet you in Tokyo – you two are kindred spirits. Saeko is a person who would look sensuous and glamorous…even on a farm – she’s quiet and thoughtful from Tokyo, but she’s also full of vitality and curiousity: gem. Chris and Satoko, French-Canadian and Japanese couple, might be the folks I’d be most likely to have met and become friends with if I hadn’t met them on the farm – they were both extremely funny, thoughtful, adventurous and insightful folks who left professional jobs in Canada/Tokyo to explore Australia for the year; they met on a chicken farm! I had great conversations with them, and I’m hoping to see them up in Cooktown, where we’re all doing our next farm stint. Kai the 20-year-old German kid was sweet, gentlemanly, and hilarious once he got to know all of us. The Canadian girls, “city slackers” as Graham called them, were memorable and good people.
Fun work (though any work would be fun in this office)! There’s a lot to sweet potatoes (read on if you’re interested – I was!). First we picked and prepared thousands of “runners”, the young shoots from existing sweet potato plants that are later planted to propagate the new crop. Then we planted the runners (this is a job only for girls) on the very amazing planter tractor contraption which is like a factory on wheels – we would sit four in a row on the back of Graham’s tractor and feed runners into two big wheels that deposit them into the ground that’s been opened up by the front of the tractor, leaving rows of little mound of perfectly planted sweet potato shoot in our wake, little presents. Of course we got to kill a lot of weeds -- I was teased endlessly for professing that I love weeding, having my hands in the dirt and feeling the roots, or working with a weeding hoe that felt like a big paintbrush in my hand. [Just FYI I’m very, very, very good at picking runners and weeding – I generally did as much work as the whole rest of the crowd combined – this was a nice boost to my confidence since I was one of the slowest strawberry pickers in my last career. ;)] Also we harvested on the possibly-even-more-exciting-if-sometimes-terrifying harvesting tractor: with Graham driving, the machine digs into the earth and spurts up loads of spuds & dirt & weeds & roots which pop onto a conveyor belt on the back at which 5 people work furiously to separate the good stuff from the flotsam (Graham: “don’t get your fingers in the belt; they will get cut off if they go in the belt; don’t get your fingers in the belt”), and another conveyor belt brings the good stuff up to me and a partner standing in two swimming-pool sized crates in which we catch and sort and place the spuds into mountains. And we also worked in the packing shed sorting onto more conveyor belts that washed the little guys, cutting and sorting and packing, dancing to top 20 on the radio. You can go half way around the world and hear the same US pop everywhere… but over here I’m tapping the beats while sorting sweet potatoes to it or riding around farm plains with 9 other folks squeezed in a dusty van bouncing over dirt roads.
Talking about language. I can’t count the number of delightful long talks I had with my international friends about what words are best for a purpose, and when it’s best to use this phrase or that. Three terrific girls from Japan, one eager sweet German kid, a thoughtful French-Canadian fellow, and a funny Korean guy all would ask me – shyly at first, but then with curious humor – about words. These turned into interesting conversations that challenged me and gave me food for thought about language, and brought me back to “teacher”. In this case, though, I wasn’t “Ms. Jones” but a friend on a rambling journey of discovering things about communication with other friends who were my teachers and grateful learners. These conversations were a treasure I can’t express – I know we all cherished the safe space to ask questions that might be silly elsewhere, to go back and forth to clarify and connect to life experience, and get to know one another better in the process. Graham had a rule that only English should be spoken on the farm, unless you’re a native English speaker learning another language – this rule kept people from being nasty in other languages, and was enforced with the dreaded eating of a wildly hot chilli pepper (one of the farm’s other notorious crops). At first I thought this was a little extreme, but then I saw how everyone stepped up and learned and taught and engaged with one another in circles of talk about ideas and communication. I admired my friends who did the hard and brave work of learning and “using their words”.
Transformations. Maybe the biggest story about this farm for me was how perception can evolve. When I arrived I was thoroughly disgusted by the dirt and cobwebs on every surface in our WWOOFer farm house, and the piles of junk that seemed to be everywhere on the farm in general. The rule “take your shoes off at the door” made me laugh out loud – the floor inside was gritty with dirt too. But within a day and a half I was looking at the same scenes noticing the sunlight falling beautifully across the laundry line, or the quiet summery air of the farmhouse kitchen, or enjoying my cozy bright room shared with a fun roommate. I had swept all the floors and could deal with the remaining dirt. Happy dirt; I’m ok with it, and it’s the result of a beautiful free farm life. Bare feet are pretty great. The same story unfolded when, about a week and a half into my stay, two loud, large, citified girls from Toronto arrived with blasting ipods, loud complaints every time they opened their mouths (which was not infrequent), and a too-cool-for-school attitude that quickly squashed the innocent open conversations about language and learning that the rest of us had nurtured. But, within 5 days, this pair Ruthie and Katie had become troopers, friends, and humorous members of our now looser, sillier, chattier family with more points of connection. They stepped up to do their share, zip the complaints, and draw out the quiet curious folks with their own style. The last week I spent on the farm felt like a family, and I thank every member of that team for the humor, care, and openness that created that.

Wildlife. I didn’t come to Australia looking for wild wildlife, but it’s here all around. Amazing huge colorful singing birds everywhere – in the morning to wake us up, to serenade our weeding, overhead while I’m running over the hills in the afternoon. Wallabies in the road and in the hills jumping along with me when I’m hiking. Snakes in the brush and in the front yard (big, big, scary snakes). The frog that lives in the shower. The geiko that lives in the kitchen. The spiders and enormous beetles that live in our rooms and porches. The giant Alice in Wonderland caterpillars that live with the sweet potato plants. These guys give a new meaning to “organic” – out here it’s about living with nature, just letting nature be while it lets us be. Graham’s mother (who I met at her grandkids’ soccer game) pointed out that “nothing in the bush will attack a human, unless it’s seriously threatened.” After Graham held the head of the third most deadly venomous snake as it was dying, he (Graham) said to me with terror in his voice, “you guys have bears, right? Now bears are REALLY scary.”

No phone or internet for 25 kilometers around the farm! Turns out it’s glorious not to think about pressing buttons and keeping track of the rest of the world…
Sweet potato song. Yes, previous WWOOFers on Graham & Jan’s farm had composed a lyrical tribute to the golden sweet spud (you may hear it in elevators some time…). We learned it around campfires by the dam. Eriko was our musical teacher, singing along with the recording on her computer and jamming with her sax. The chorus (the only part we fully mastered) was catchy and mimicked Graham’s constant refrain: “Sweet, sweet, sweet po-ta-to-oo-oooes; sha-la-la-laaaa Mut-chillll-ba”.

Fishing trip on the big sea with Graham, one of the other WWOOFers, Graham’s dad, and Graham’s friend who is a professional fisherman on the Daintree and full of nautical and folk wisdom, as well as great fish that we took home to fry up. Do they have WWOOFing for fishing? My dream is to spend months on a sailing or fishing boat travelling around the world, learning and helping… Clara, I’m heading back to the sailing club as soon as I get back!

Learning about organic farming and biodynaics. I filled Graham’s ear with questions, and he filled mine with talk about the Steiner school of biodynamic farming, the relationship between the cycles of the moon and particular crops, and his knowledge of how the crops work and develop. He did point out that, “it’s a lot easier to take your money to the casino”, but he made it clear that in principle organics pay off bigger in every way. I didn’t need to be convinced, but I was fascinated to learn exactly how they work in practice.

Delicious food! The tradition of “morning tea”, a.k.a. “smoko”, seems pervasive in Australia and I’m a big fan – we start work at 7, but around 9 or 10 we break for a morning meal. On Graham’s farm this was the 9-10 hour and was always on his porch with morsels prepared by Jan – time to sit back and shoot the breeze over a filling morning meal, before going back to work for a couple more hours before afternoon break in the heat of the day. In the evenings, the WWOOFers cook for ourselves in glorious culinary teams of two. Everyone cooked their specialty – crepes and quiche from Chris the French-Canadian guy and his lovely girlfriend Satoko; German sausage from Kai; spaghetti & garlic bread from the Canadian chicks; Japanese hot pot from Saeko and Eriko (instructing me); Korean tuna cakes and friend rice and seaweed (imported in bulk) by Jae; sweet potato mash & chicken by the Welsh-German couple. Afternoons were for more experimental cooking and sweets: chocolate chip cookies requested by Eriko, recipe supplied by Julia Quicy!; sweet potato fries & chips ventured by me and Satoko; lots of salads from the kitchen garden; more cookies from Eriko who shares my sweettooth ;).

Seeing the life of Graham & Jan’s kids on the farm. They’re completely free and adventurous, enjoying every inch of the farm with endless giggles for the pigglets, feeding the chickens, sailing from the rope swing into the dam, waterskiing behind Dad’s little boat on the pond at the top of the property. And they’re also some of the most polite and well behaved kids I’ve ever met. Not to mention all painfully adorable. I told Jordan, 12, the oldest, that I thought he has a pretty good life up here; “I like it” he said.

Strawberry Stockings in Beerwah, AU ~ July 5-25, 2011

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The Journey Begins…

I spent a lovely few days in Sydney, thanks to great recommendations from Katie for a nice place to stay and Bronwyn for many other practical details. I spent my days running early then walking later through the amazing botanical gardens and harbor – that Opera House is truly breathtaking and I did a lot of happy (though chilly – it’s definitely winter here) reading on the plaza in front. I was excited to get to the farm, though.

Farm #1: Coochin Hills Strawberries

I just finished my second week at the Coochin Hills Organics, a strawberry farm an hour north of Brisbane a bit inland, and am looking forward to one more week here (before I head far north to the tropics of Cairns, above the Great Barrier Reef, to another family farm, and then eventually to the chocolate farm and New Zealand). When I was a little squirt I had a pair of knee socks with Strawberry Shortcake on them, and our town poet saw me kicking them in the post office one day and wrote a poem about Strawnerry Stockings. Now I that I have my feet in the strawberry patch, this has new meaning.

I dig the strawberry farm – it’s run by a very nice couple who work along with us and keep us all focused on working hard but also have us around their dinner table every night for good and friendly meals, and take us on little excursions on the weekend – this weekend we were off to the beach! The farm uses all organic methods which are interesting to learn about -- last week we sprayed seeweed fertilizer and planted predator mites (which are the good guys) to eat the pests that are plaguing one plot of strawberries, for instance. This farm distributes to organic strawberry buyers way down in Melbourne and Sydney, runs an online business similar to peapod with organics, and also participate in one of the coolest farmers’ market I’ve ever seen every Sunday in Brisbane – all organic with a great variety of vendors, super nice patrons, and happy vibe in the air (worth the 2am wake-up call when you’re working market days!). Julia and David who run the farm clearly approach it as a business and they get the most out of their wwoofers – we have clear time schedules and quotas to meet, and they are clear about the fast and precise work they expect. It’s a good deal for them and provides structure for us – you can take it or leave it. I like working hard, although what “hard” means in this context involves about 6 hours of bending standing bending standing bending standing bending standing bending standing bending standing IF YOU’RE LUCKY, otherwise it’s 6 hours of beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnddddddddddddddddddddiiiiiiiiinnggg; either option makes both bending and standing excruciating. I now have a profound, profound respect for fruits and veggies that are cultivated and picked by hand. Fortunately I can nibble the most delicious strawberries I’ve ever tasted here and there as I bend/stand, and the environment and weather are lovely (kind of like early fall days at home with warm breezy days but very cool nights), and other folks are friendly to work with… so the sum of the work is positive and it’s not actually boring (yet?). Fortunately super-generous Noor and savvy Stacy, & Ben set me up with iPod, so boredom won’t threaten long if/when it strikes.

I made my grandmother’s strawberry pie for the crowds last week and it was a huge hit – they’re going to add it to the farm repertoire .

In terms of my comrades, there have been 6-10 wwoofers on the farm here while I’ve been here – all Japanese, Irish, or English, most in their 20’s backpacking around, and all very good people. At the moment we’re 4 girls, so we’re enjoying girls’ nights with movies, wine, and hot chocolate in the frigid shed that has the TV after dinner – I feel like I’m in college (except half of my comrades don’t speak Enlgish!)!

Other important farm denizens are three frisky little black and white dogs, a cat Smoky who lays low, and most prominently “Bird” – Bird is perhaps the single most memorable element of this farm so this is not a tangent. Bird is a magpie that was pushed out of his nest as a chick and adopted by the family here, is best friends with the dogs and makes barking squalks (really), and generally makes himself trouble by flying straight at your face or feet and pecking like he’s been paid to do it, pooping on your doorstep, hopping into your accommodation for a look around, or snitching a bit of whatever’s in the lunch bowl you’re carrying. Bird has more single-minded persistence and personality than 90% of humans. He bullied me for the first few days by flying straight at my head and pecking me which left a few marks (he especially menaces people with light hair) and all I could do was say “NO BIRD! NO!” in my most serious teacher voice and jump from side to side, clutching my floppy hat that I wear around the property to shield me from sun and crazy bird… But then Bird pulled a clever stunt, trickster that he is: about 5 days ago, he disappeared! Julia was in a tither thinking he had died somewhere, and even the rest of us had gotten a bit nostalgic by the time he returned two days later, first spotted trying to get into my accommodation for a visit! Fortunately my relationship with Bird has improved since his haitus – now he’s only interested in eating my feet and leaves my head alone. I will not use the phrase “bird brained” quite the same in the future…
Life is simple here; it’s like camping. Quick cool showers, creepers, doing dishes in a bowl of water we’ve boiled, and uninsulated everything are offset by beautiful starry skies, views of mountains from the wall of windows in the “studio” I share with my sweet but silent Japanese roommate, lots of hot tea, and the niceness of keeping things simple.

In addition to bending/standing, dodging Bird, learning about organics, hanging out with the 20-year olds and family, and learning to take 4-minute showers, I’ve also had some time for nice runs, laying on the grass reading, and lots and lots of knitting and audiobook . There doesn’t feel like quite as much down-time as I initially thought there would be here – a lot is dictated by daylight hours, after which is basically just dinner and bed, and since it’s winter here it gets dark fairly early. Anyway, on the up side, I’m making a snazzy scarf – a crucial trip into the town thrift store (which immediately made me feel at home ) yielded knitting needles, snipits of colorful yarn, and cutlery with red stars. I’ve become super excited about Virginia Woolf and Haruki Murakami, a funny mix but both phenomenal. If anyone happens to be reading or interested in reading anything by either of these authors, please let me know and I would LOVE to discuss over e-mail. My abbreviated booktalks are below ;). I’m in the groove with VW and HM and think I might read one or two more by each before taking a break for other goods, but I’d be up for jumping on your reading wagons too – mainly I’m really enjoying the opportunity to read a lot over here, but I’m missing the element of having someone to discuss it with. Maybe we could even start a virtual book group!?

Books!

I’ve been reading Mrs. Dalloway and To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf in hard copy -- I’m actually in the middle of my second reading of To the Lighthouse, it’s so complex that I just got the feeling for it the first time and now I’m seeing how it’s really put together and exactly what it’s saying… Virginia’s a bold genius in style and profound understanding of human nature, and the Isle of Skye setting brings me back to delicious memories of hiking there with Caroline. To the Lighthouse is a story of an eclectic extended family summering up at the Isle of Skye in the Heberdies off of Scotland, and basically explores the psychology of the times on issues of love, art, gender, social justice, and war through the lense of the various characters’ perspectives. Woolf’s prose style is SO unconventional though – she has sentences that go on for a page with stream-of-consciousness writing that makes perfect sense if you’re paying full attention but is impossible to skim or read sleepy, I think…

And, I’ve been listening to The Wind Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murikami on audiobook which provides hilarious voices for all of Murakami’s wildly fantastic characters – this book seems to be all about women; other than the protagonist who’s a sweet clueless guy, all of the other important characters are vivid women who are exploring their identity -- my favorite of these is a teenager through which Murakami delivers some of the best teenager-thinking-philosophically writing I’ve ever read. Beware that Mirikami seems to love to include some sections in all of his books that are grossely gruesome or graphically sexual – he seems to pride himself on throwing in gratuitous “eeew” moments – but it’s certainly not in the majority of the book. This novel is long and, in translation, is much more about the story line and key details than about the phrasing or prose, which makes it fun to listen to and would be easy to read quickly I think. It’s hilarious and interesting and reflective, and Murikami is the most prominent Japanese writer right now both in Japan and abroad; since I’ve started paying attention to him I see him mentioned by lots of folks in the US.

Art… and Life

My ambition for the illustrated travel journal is getting off to a slow start… I do have one illustration, and have faith that more will follow soon. It takes time and energy to paint, and this particular farm doesn’t leave a ton of these left over at the end of the day… Right now I’m just focusing on enjoying the day and listening to myself to stay happy day to day with enough rest and relaxation to make the work pleasant and interesting. I feel great, so I think I’m doing this well… After a very fast-paced end of the year and pack-up and fun-with-you-guys time, now I’m unwinding and understanding the nature of this adventure. It’s kind of an unusual adventure because it involves an intense but very quiet and reflective lifestyle on the farm and is only really an “adventure” when several farm and travel experiences will have accumulated. So basically, after a focused period at home of thinking about the long-term adventure I was embarking on, I’m now in the close-up day-to-day moment that feels mundane in a nice but not adventurous way. For now I’m enjoying the retreat, simple lifestyle, predictability, learning new things about farming and small business, and knitting and reading and being outside!

LOVE YOU ALL! Thank you again for your love and support – I can feel it over here .

Permaculture Key Concepts & Booklist

Permaculture as Defined by the Co-Founder: Permaculture(permanent agriculture) is the conscious design and maintenance of agriculturally productive ecosystems which have the diversity, stability, and resilience of natural ecosystems. It is the harmonious integration of landscape and people providing their food, energy, shelter, and other material and non-material needs in a sustainable way. -- from Bill Mollison's Permaculture: A Designer's Manual



When we're talking about Permaculture, we're talking about...

* Rationale: Without permanent agriculture there is no possibility of a stable social order.
* Elements: Permaculture deals with plants, animals (including humans), buildings, and infrastructures (water, energy, communications) and the relationships between/among them.
* Goal: Create systems that are ecologically sound & economically viable in that they provide for their own needs without exploiting or polluting.
* Based on: Observation of natural systems, wisdom from traditional farming systems, and modern scientific and technical knowledge
* Result: Create a cultivated ecology which is designed to produce more human and animal food than is generally found in nature, and is sustainable over time for humans and nature.


Key Concepts of Permaculture:

* Work with rather than against nature.
* Use human skills for protracted observation and intelligent design rather than protracted or intensive physical labor.
* Consider multifuctionality of each element in a system.
* Use each element's strengths/yields to meet the needs of the other elements in the system.
* Good design is created by putting elements in the right relative location to one another.
* Energy needs of the system should be provided by the system.


In Practice, Some Examples:

* Fruit trees are planted in a sunny corner of the yard where fruit can be harvested in season and windfall fruit and leaves will fall in the vicinity where chickens will be able to eat them and scratch their decomposing matter into the ground, where the earthworms will turn it into beautiful soil. The trees also provide a windbreak for the garden, and shade in summer from intense heat for leafy veg below. A bench below the tree is a nice place to sit and read a book, if you're a human :).


Some Great Permaculture and Sustainable Design books:

* Introduction to Permaculture by Bill Mollison
* Permaculture Designer's Manual by Bill Mollison
* The Permaculture Home Garden by Linda Woodrow
* Earth User's Guide to Permaculture by Rosemary Morrow
* The Humanure Handbook by Joseph Jenkins
* Wild Fermentation: the flavor, nutrition, and craft of live-culture foods by Sandor Ellix Katz
* The One Straw Revolution by Masanobu Fukuoka

WWOOF

Willing Workers On Organic Farms
exits in most countries and is a network connecting folks who own organic farms or properties with organic gardens with folks who would like to learn, help, and stay for a while. WWOOFers exchange 4-6 hours per day of work on the farm or property for room and board. Stays can be for a few days, weeks, or months depending on mutual agreement. WWOOFers find it's a great way to travel, have a "farm holiday" at home or abroad, get to know locals, and/or get a working visa in another country. I'm WWOOFing to learn about organic farming, enjoy the farm life, travel, and most of all to get to know wonderful Aussies and travelers.

It's easy to become a member of WWOOF in any country; they'll send you a book with listings of hundreds of hosts and a password for website with same.

WWOOF Australia:
http://wwoof.com.au/

WWOOF USA:
http://www.wwoofusa.org/

LQJ Itinerary

The whole point of the journey is not to have a set itinerary! But here are some other things I probably want to do before I return home for good: 1) Enjoy my work, friends, and healthy learning lifestyle in Melbourne; 2) Wwoof more in Australia, and work my way out "across the middle" to Western Australia; 3) Live in Japan for a bit, wwoofing or studying or traveling; 4) Take the Trans-Siberian Railway through Asia & Europe; 5) Feel ready and excited to come home to the people and places I love, with new eyes and lifestyle.

What I'm Reading!

With more time to read, think, re-read, annotate my text (!), relax, and grow, I've regained my bookwork consciousness. I've been on a kick of reading as much as I can by the authors I'm falling in love with this year.

Woolf, Murakami, and Grenville are far and away my top favorites; under each author I listed my favorite titles first.

Let me know if you're on the same page, or in the same book!

Virginia Woolf - radical artist of words, feminist, revolutionary mind
To the Lighthouse
A Room of One's Own
Three Guineas
The Waves
Jacob's Room

Haruki Murikami - no one's trendier right now than him, with great reason: his dreamscapes resonate with the collective unconscious of our times
The Wind Up Bird Chronicle
1Q84
Kafka on the Shore
Dance, Dance, Dance
Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World

Kate Grenville - an Australian writer whose exquisite prose tells painful honest tales
Lilian's Story
Dark Places
The Secret River

...others...
March by Geraldine Brooks
Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen
The Odyssey by Homer
The Blind Assassin by Margarte Atwood
The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides
L'Education Sentimental by Gustav Flaubert
A Rebours by JK Huysmans
Breath by Tim Winton
The Crooked House by Agatha Christie