I was told that this is a contorted filbert. On the back side new growth is refusing to contort. One of my favorites that we have planted on our acre.
I was pleased to read the post where Mick admits that he got a book for Christmas. I had been part of an interesting discussion where he tried to convince me and his sister Cheryl that Solviva: How to Grow $500,000 on One Acre and Peace on Earth, wasn't really a book. Cheryl and I had looked at one another, rather dumb-founded, the not-really-a-book was right there in Mick's hands, looking remarkably like a book and not like a skill saw or a new pair of socks. Then Mick elaborated on what he meant by not-really-a-book. Because Solviva...really is a book, rest-assured. What it is not is a novel.
However, it is a compelling story of one woman's remarkable journey into a green life style, back before it became tres chic and all the celebrities started doing it. This woman's adventure begins back in the seventies, when such pursuits earned one the disparaging label of hippie. Gasp.
I really didn't know what Solviva: How to Grow $500,000 on One Acre and Peace on Earthwas when I ordered it. I had read the description of the book years ago, while still living in Alaska, in a seed catalog, and as much as I'd wanted to order it, time passed, the catalog fell apart, and I couldn't imagine growing $500,000 of anything in Pelican, Alaska, where the soil, when you can find any, is rocky at best. We won't talk about at worst. But I am a sucker for a great title and that title just grabbed me and stuck with me.
So years later, looking out at our remarkably bare, blank canvas of one acre, I could recall enough of the title to find the book through Amazon. It had to be the one. So I imagined how this little book was going to tell us how to grow some crops and then market them, miraculously netting us a six-figure income. Well...of course it isn't that direct. And I'd no idea that this amazing story of what the author lived was part and parcel of this book. Little did I know that Mick would read it from cover to cover.
That, in fact, is about the highest recommendation a book can receive from Mick. He'll peruse, but for him to actually sit down and read the whole thing tells you that it is a pretty compelling read. Which he shared with me and anyone who happened to come by and find themselves as a captive audience.
I'm not sure what got started here, but there were times when I'd wondered what I got myself into when I'd ordered that book for Mick. As an example:
Mick: Hey, this is pretty cool. She has composting toilets.
me: Yeah? When we looked into those before, aren't they about $2000?
Mick: You can get them for less..............Oh, this is cool, she made her own composting toilets. Listen to this...[Mick goes on to tell me in detail about the home made composting toilet and apparently, you keep a mixture of leaves and compost to sprinkle over the top of your, er, droppings]....and it never stinks!
me: How does she change it when it gets full?
Mick: I imagine she just carries it out.
me: But didn't you say it's a 15-gallon container? Hon, I have a hard time carrying a 5-gallon bucket when it's full. I can't imagine a 15-gallon one.
Mick: Well, she must use a two-wheeler or something.
me: Does she have an outside access panel or something?
Mick: I don't think so.
me: So she's wheeling a 15-gallon container of human waste through her house?
Mick: I think so.
I look at him doubtfully.
me: Well, I wouldn't like that. I can't imagine any woman being happy with that arrangement.
Mick: Oh, look here. Here's a drawing of that part of her house. It does look like there's an outside access panel.
me to myself: Yeah, knew it.
So Mick would continue reading, putting the book down every now and then to tell me one more interesting tidbit, and don't get me wrong, it is interesting, and I'd put down my book (I was reading a book by S.M. Sterling called Dies the Fire about what would happen if all technology ceased to work around the world, all at once, and this story takes places here in the Willamette Valley as people tried to survive and rebuild, fascinating though grim) and listen.
At one point Mick put down his book and sighed.
Mick: [big sigh] Well...I don't suppose you'd ever go for this lifestyle.
me: [somewhat offended] Why do you say that?
Mick: Well, this woman's house has all kinds of plants in it, too, not just her green house. She's got a thirty foot tomato plant that's four years old and still producing and she's got nasturtiums and all kinds of other plants and flowers all through the house. But that brings insects. Good insects, though.
me: I would have a hard time with a house full of insects.
Mick: Yeah, I know. She talks about the daddy long legs that live in one corner over by one of the plants, but that she's kind of fond of them and leaves them alone.
I stare at Mick, shudder and say: Yeah, no. Maybe we'd have to modify the lifestyle a little.
Segue: I hate daddy long legs and I don't believe what anyone says who says that they're harmless, don't bite, etc. Once upon a time, right after I graduated from college, I had the misfortune to live in a house that had a daddy long leg infestation and even more unfortunate, the room they overran was the bedroom. Then, like now, my bed was just a mattress. And on more than one night, I woke up because something had stung me and was bothering me, turned on the bedside lamp, flung back the covers, and I'm not exaggerating, there were about 20 daddy long legs crawling around in my bed! It was a horror film come to life. I only lived in that house for a couple of months. The daddy long leg problem was not a one-night problem and I've held a special grudge for them ever since. And yes, they do bite.
So, we've lived with fleas, have had horrible house fly and fruit fly problems before, earwigs, strange beetle-like creatures that try to enter the house in summer...I don't want to encourage insect life in my house. Nor spiders. I leave them alone outside, but not in my house.
What I will tolerate: crickets...I like crickets, don't know why...lady bugs...dragon flies, but not in my house, though, and praying mantis. My feelings toward praying mantis really are beyond explanation, because these are some of the freakiest critters in common creation. And the bigger they are, the freakier they are. I suspect that they are actually space aliens, sent to earth to gather information.
I hope we can some day live some semblance of the Solviva lifestyle, sans insects and spiders in the house. As long as Mick remembers the outside access panel for the composting toilets.
