March - from the 'Year at Robie Creek' series

Originally published in the:

We are not gardeners. We’re not setting our planting trays, not gathering our tools or weighing the pros and cons of various crops, our compost won’t be used to amend the soil in neat rows or raised beds along our little piece of Robie Creek. Instead, our interest lies in learning what’s already here that’s of use; what’s edible, what’s medicinal, and what to avoid of the things that nature provides us where we are. There are almost no land-based environments anywhere on the planet in which humans haven’t found a way to survive, meaning that nearly every place on Earth offers a variety of herbs, food plants, and animals suitable for consumption. What can be used, what can be stored, and what should be left to itself of what’s right here and already acclimated? Those are our questions.

We do garden in the sense that we restrict the growth of certain plants and encourage that of others, and we sculpt the land and the growth habits of its inhabitants in a way that works as well for us as it does for them. We have two places where burdock is allowed to grow, for instance, because while it’s useful both as food and medicine it can’t be allowed to run rampant, for the sake of our furred critters who find the burrs so irritating; same with bull thistle. In both cases the flowers are removed as they begin to go to seed in order to prevent inappropriate spreading. Stinging nettle and hawthorn are contained for obvious reasons – the usually-inch-long hard-as-nails thorns of hawthorn are no joke to step on – as are sorrel and bittersweet nightshade due to their greedy and prolific growth habits, but each offers medicinal and in most cases nutritional value so we find places they can live without ill effect to anyone and give them homes in those places.

It should be noted that in large amounts parts of burdock and sorrel, as well as hawthorn fruit and in smaller amounts any parts of the nightshade plant can be toxic if proper care is not taken in their preparation and use. Get your tonics and tinctures and herbals with instruction for proper use from a place like Sunshine House or Terra Mater Botanicals, both of which can be found elsewhere in the OCG, unless you’re willing to take some health risks or are very confident in your knowledge.

On the other hand, things like mullein, catnip, huckleberry, and beardtongue are freely reseeded from each year’s mature growth, not only where they stand but anywhere we might hope they’d take root, with plenty of seeds left over to store and use as food. Dandelion, goat’s beard (salsify), cattail, thimbleberry, raspberry, chive, lamb’s quarters, wild rose, apple, plum, and pine trees are all plants that require little encouragement and have much to offer. All of these grow prolifically where we are (many where you are), and every part of them offers some kind of benefit.

Pines, for instance: From spring through autumn, we gather pine nuts wherever we find them and munch them down raw, shells and all. (We also notice when, as was the case last year, there aren’t many to be had, which tells us something about how the upcoming fire season will be.) Ponderosa pine or Douglas fir nuts at this altitude aren’t big enough for effectively processing in any way except to roast them whole, but left raw and unshelled and properly stored a batch gathered in fall will easily last through the winter, better in fact than if they’re roasted in which case they need to be canned or frozen in order to prevent rancidity. The health benefits of consuming the nuts, as well as the needles (tasty in tea), and the inner bark – raw, boiled, or fried – are well-documented, and the sap has antiseptic properties perfect for wound-healing. The outer bark, cones, and dry needles and branches make excellent kindling, sap-saturated deadfall can be stripped into superior firestarters, and the lower big branches that are shed naturally on a regular basis are often big enough and dry enough to fuel a reasonable fire for a good length of time. All of these things are offered by a single plant.

Whenever I consider the fact that processed nuts go rancid more quickly than raw ones, I’m reminded that until they’re shelled or roasted (or eaten as they fell) they hold the beginning of new life. They’re like March that way, in Robie Creek and in much of the Northern Hemisphere, bursting with the knowledge of what’s to come but not quite ready to reveal it. We’ll be out peeking under the snow where it’s melting from the bottom up to create little natural greenhouses perfect for tender first shoots, where they can drink their fill of snowmelt and be kept surprisingly warm in their igloos, but we’ll have to be patient, give them time to get bigger and stronger before we start pinching off bits to munch or landscaping too aggressively. Soon enough there’ll be a bounty of treats from which to pick and choose, freely given and gratefully received. For now though they’re all just potential, waiting for that perfect blend of spring rain and sunshine, cool nights and temperate days to awaken them into being.

And with that we’ll leave you to your own snow-house peeking, if that’s how you like to spend your March, or to prepare for your gardens as you see fit. It’s been nice sharing your time a while and we look forward to seeing you next month. Until then, from Robie Creek to Owl Creek, take care, be safe, have fun.

With much love,

Peace & the Dudes Jaway

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