Full Circle

Well here I am again, back in Glen Ellen following the circus that is college. A full four years plus a bit have passed since I first set off for Whitman up in Washington, believing my path to be secured and straightforward. Yet it morphed into something wholly unexpected and heavier on the life experience than the academic rigour, though nonetheless worthy of being cherished and valued in its own right. In the end I emerged with a Bachelor of Science in Environmental Science and Geography. At least I hope so. This still needs to be confirmed by an academic board meeting in February. Graduation is a very strange process in New Zealand. I'll also have to pay the courier fee to have my scroll delivered overseas.

Despite all the wonderful diversions along the way: living in Motueka, Waiheke Island and travelling to Argentina, I am happy to be home for the moment. This first week of reconnecting with people and place has been fantastic, heightened by the cheer of the holiday season. In fact, it was a dear friend who encouraged me to re-ignite this digital journal at least as some personal catharsis, even if no one reads it. The Hardcore Ecologist has existed in one form or another for the past four years and I appreciate anyone who has been a part of it. Regardless, I love my friends here and they are wholly irreplaceable. I am consistently amazed by their warmth and their own achievements while I've been geographically detached. Though I have received many compliments and envious remarks on my travels, oftentimes I am more impressed with what my friends have become moreso than anything I've stumbled my way into. Things always look rosier through the facade of Facebook or Instagram. Things have not always been easy, in fact living in rural NZ was frequently isolating and lonely, with no stability to even entertain the idea of a girlfriend, etc.

But I suppose in a lot of ways I should be proud that I have been able to make good on my early ideals and plans hatched back in high school; much of my daydreams have in fact come to fruition. For example living in New Zealand and connecting with my roots, managing an island permaculture farm, working in an organic vineyard, backpacking and travelling heaps. I have also finally properly earned the title of Hardcore Ecologist, given that I am now employed by the Sonoma Ecology Center as their Restoration Technician. There are even some small, more personal 'achievements' that I've reached such as finally getting the crazy haircut I've wanted since I was obsessed with Daveky Havok of AFI as a teen, having both of my legs tattooed, as well as getting the nose piercing I've envied for years. So things really have come together for me in some beautiful ways. I know a friend of mine commented on this, saying that I've really fulfilled the ambitions of my youth, and he was right really. The foundation has been laid as a young adult of 22, and now it is up to me to build and create upon that platform in the most br00tal and eco-groovy way that I can. I don't know what happens next, but we'll keep rolling along. Thanks for being a part of it.

Always follow the Left Hand Path.

-Troy

Dig In

Harbour-watching

Looking out,
I'm trapped in a postcard
A view of perfection
Every day a testament
To this island oasis,
Its effortless beauty spilling over
Irrepressible

Yet from inside the frame I cannot
Grasp it, make real contact
With its features
When my mind is stalled
On the memory of your smile
The grace of your limbs
The stars that I saw
Reflected in your eyes

Alone, the world falls flat
Even when it's at my feet
For the taking
It lacks colour, texture,
Even the salt of the ocean breeze
Tastes bitter on my tongue

What ungrateful agony it is
Being unable to unwrap
The gift of each day
When my spirit is halved,
Unrequited

While distant ships stretch brilliant
White sails, gliding as if a dream
Over turquoise glass
My own ship is sunk, wrecked
In the harbour rotting with
The barnacles and urchins
After years of adrift finally
Settling to the bottom,
Unseaworthy

Perhaps one day you'll
Set sail
Hoist your colours
Tying a scarlet ribbon
To the mast for me to see
And come drifting into this
Rocky harbour

You know I'd race down
To the beach and meet
You there

More Metal Offerings

Project Gratification

I finished building my new steps! And they don't look half bad if you ignore the imperfections and don't inspect them too closely. But considering the adverse conditions under which they were built, and the fact that I have roughly zero experience in building, I'm rather please with how they turned out. The most gratifying thing however is feeling as though I'm having a positive impact on the farm and leaving a legacy of sorts for those to come to enjoy. Instead of a muddy slippery slope, which I personally fell down several times, they will instead have six well-spaced steps to glide up. I really don't understand the motivations to be rich and famous and powerful when so much joy can be derived from completing a simple project like this. I'm finding contentment in small victories and simple doings. I may not be working in a laboratory pipetting aliquots of the latest miracle drug or engineering some clever new contraption, or whatever else is considered a successful career path for a young professional my age and what many of my friends are pursuing. But I'm proud either way of the peaceful, rustic niche that I've crafted for myself here, where my impact is minimal and the birds sing all day long.

 In the beginning...

 In the end...

 Beautiful.

Country Grind Quarterly

So apparently there is a newspaper/zine being produced in Canada for rural punks and misfits, delivered free if you have a rural address. The Country Grind Quarterly. This is such a great idea. Recommended for anyone who loves blasting Antischism, driving tractors shooting off guns, and generally telling society to fuck off. If only I lived in Canada.

http://www.countrygrind.net/

Right, so what's been going on at Uma Rapiti. Well we've weathered a few storms and things are starting to look up a bit. The sun has been out longer and stronger, and even though we're still in the depths of winter, this Waiheke Island microclimate is starting to feel like spring. And as a result, a few of the seeds that I sowed earlier on have begun to sprout.

Other things that have gone in the ground so far are garlic, potatoes, lettuces and some kale sprouts. Most of the work however has been in the greenhouse, getting seeds started in their trays and waiting till the time and the climate is right to plant them out into the rested beds. With garden activity being pretty low-key, I've had time to strike up some other projects like putting in a new set of steps up to the woolshed and digging in some paving stones to create new paths. The photo below is just a rough dig to make sure everything is going to fit right and my measurements weren't way off. Still working on the tricky task of screwing everything together in order and making sure it's all level. Not exactly the kind of thing I have heaps of practice with, but challenging myself like that is what this experience is all about.

Aside from work, I've had a good bit of leisure time to explore the island by bike, car and even by kayak. I paddled out to a small island just off the coast and had a good rummage around and came away with a good haul of mussels that became a delicious stew that night. There's nothing quite like plucking your dinner straight from the sea. I'm just loving all the opportunities to enjoy real, fresh food while living here on the farm. With eggs from the chooks, all the garden veggies and the orange trees producing, I'm feeling pretty well fed. It's definitely a special place.

Dirt Ritual

Working outside in the mud
Boots sticky, skin flecked, muscle flexing
Rain drips in silver threads
Down perspiring chin
Following the etch of veins
As I open a hole into the earth
Spade thrusting and cutting deep
Standing back from its gaping wound
Feeding its black flesh the
Quivering seedlings freshly sprouted
Filling that void with an arboreal hope
As fat worms thrash and flee
Retreating to the dark

With this gift
The dead and living are wed
Mineral bonds broken and re-forged
Nourishment taken from decay
A ritual of rebirth at the
Interface of soil

A sacrament
Cast from my hand
Taking root

Slugdge: Garden-themed Metal

So this is very fitting for the farm: a metal album full of puns and references to slugs and their slimy gastropod allies. With song titles like Dark Side of the Shroom, Lettuce Pray, Salters of Madness, Slugdge may sound like a joke, but these songs absolutely rip. An infectious mix of death, sludge and doom. Maybe I'm the only one who gets excited over these sorts of things, but Slugdge is going to be on heavy rotation while I go about my business in the garden from now on. No garden pests, no mercy.

"Dedicated to he who harvests the cosmos, Mollusca the Greatfather."

First Week Update

So what's been going on here at Uma Rapiti in my first week? Well, a lot of mulching really. The main goal has been to get the garden beds covered and in order in anticipation of spring planting for the seedlings we've started in the greenhouse. So chop and drop is the name of the game at the moment, turning all those pesky weeds into green mulches. I need to replenish my stock of cardboard for sheetmulching purposes, such has been the demand. Simple things like cardboard and newspaper become highly valued commodities within a permaculture system. I've also sown broadbeans and peas as cover crops for their nitrogen-fixing contributions, plus as a bed full of garlic. I've been making lots of trips into the surrounding karaka forest to collect sack-loads of tasty leaf litter as well. It's pretty sweet to be able to listen to birdsong from tui, kereru, etc. while doing my job. I just hope none of the karaka seeds decide to take root in the garden beds. I also headed down to the beach with my trusty wheelbarrow for a load of seaweed to grace the uppermost asparagus bed. Other jobs have been things like digging out gigantic flaxes and attacking it with an axe to divide it into three pieces before I could even move the behemoth, let alone replant it. A new tamarillo has gone in as well as more olives. I'm awaiting the arrival of about ten new banana trees to fill out the subtropical garden. Oh and I also restarted to the worm bin that had gone to wrack and ruin previously, so fingers crossed that the new worms are happy and healthy in their remodeled home.

In terms of produce that was growing when I arrived here, it's been mainly leafy green like silverbeet, brassicas like broccoli and cauliflower, a bunch of chili peppers, a few radishes, lettuce, leeks, some young potatoes, and there's a stash of kumara and an assortment of squashes in storage. The chooks are laying many eggs, but still getting a few feeds out of them. Oh and the brined olives from last years harvest are ready and so I've been cracking into those and they're delicious.

The upper garden all dressed up in leaf litter.

Lower garden bed

Seaweed-laden asparagus bed

One flax divided up

Filling the void left by that gigantic flax, becoming a pathway to the forest sleepout

The Hardcore Farmer

   Up until this point The Hardcore Ecologist has been a miscellaneous mix of addled-brain theories, tirades, metal videos and random poetry. All surely of varying levels of quality, coherence and interest to my micro-audience. Now however it is about to enter into a new phase: permaculture farming. Today I moved onto a small lifestyle farm on Waiheke Island for the next four months of winter and into spring while also finishing my BSc. Environmental Science by correspondence. I'm going whole-hog hippie farmer in order to back up all the eco-smacktalk that I've been pushing here. It will  no doubt be a challenging, often lonely experience as the sole permanent resident, but one of great growth and beauty as I learn what it means to work with the land in an ecological manner. I'm sure to wrestle with all the pests, shit, rain, failed experiments, and overwhelming level of responsibility that I've never before held over so many forms of life. Whatever happens, I'll get into the habit of documenting my trials and travails here in hopes that it can be of some value to anyone else.

A Few New Tasty Metal Jams to Spread on Your Toast

You have to keep the demon inside pacified, right?

Since that day you dug it up,
my peridot heart, prising it from
basaltic womb where land
and sea collide,
its sharp green flicker has been
fading.

A dull orange shell crusting around
where you you once wiped the still-
warm earth from its angular faces.
Now it wastes away, too fragile
for human keeping, it crumbles
back into the natal dirt.

I always knew this would happen
ever since I saw its mineral gleam
tied with a ribbon around your laughing throat.
You wore it so well,
Your eyes reflected its dancing glimmer,
And I was enchanted anew.

But the light always fades,
the crystal always cracks
And I lose you, like all the others.

This heart of mine, forged
in the stomach of this earth
under fire and weight married into form,
it erodes so quickly at
the surface.

Reminding me that at the core
I am nothing
but a rotting gemstone,
and that permanence
is just an illusion.