Santa Fe

Just four days into our stay in Santa Fe, we have found the gift of family and friends so welcoming and extensive we have seized to research the town as intimately as we often do upon our arrivals in a new place. We have sunk our teeth into learning from the locals over daily conversations, afternoons and dinners brimming with the knowledge of local plants, food, local culture, art, wildlife. entomology,archaeology and seasonal occurrences. The momentum of our travels has reached a peak.

With juniper berries drying in the back of the car window, we have a full collection of hollyhock seeds in four different colors. Mesquite seeds were dissected and retrieved as were the loofah pods that were generously and informatively handed out as a local product in Tuscon. We stayed in the north south side of town and Tug, the Galisteo St. neighbor helped us track down the state flower yucca seeds. Wild amaranth was billowing from the sidewalks. Within the passing of a entire day, the seeds being collected and drying in the center console of our vehicle were carefully dried, extracted and catalogued for future use.

My uncle invited us to view the inner workings of the small yet profitable Aroma coffee roasters, sharing the basics and master minding of organic and fair trade roasting.

The Santa Fe Farmers Market was so large we needed the assistance of a few new friends to show us the recommended route. There was an overflow of local farms. We spent the entire morning, finding out about turkey eggs, and quill feather pen carvings, and finding Jerusalem artichokes, and freshly roasted green chili. We found 6 different kinds of potatoes, the cheapest and freshest baby kale and arugula, one stalk of millet grain,and onions marked with the remnants of organic soil.

Dinner invites brought warmth and welcome to the food before us. My first attempt at eating fresh buffalo tacos, and the fine presentation and rolling of homemade egg pasta, prepared in the traditional rolling method from the western Italian hills. Fried lemons and orange peels, olives and onions generously and tastefully provided us with a mere 2 pints of the best smelling oil for our car. The grain of the south arrived in two dishes of blue corn polenta, with freshly harvested mushrooms, and blue corn flour pound cake. We were excited to share our project with the array of new friends and excited to find out that the same research farm we are attending this Monday is where most of the produce arrived from and mutual friends of many.

The kindness, interest in out project and resourcing that has taken place here is Santa Fe has made our stop here magical.

We head out to the seeds of change research farm, tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Joshua Tree

With the second leg of our travels ahead of us, we retreated to the quiet solstice of Joshua Tree, to regroup and be in the still of the vast land of wild and dangerous cacti and the 15,000 year old Joshua trees. With dried fruit and nuts in the trunk, two gallons of water, some hot Thai food from only restaurant in site, beside the bustling Beatnik Cafe, we departed, arriving in when the fall of the moon sank beyond the Hidden Valley rocks. The local newspaper listed an array of art events, but it seems to be that the more eccentric, and organized array of activity is a bit more discreet.

The two days in the desert was a quieting of the spirit tucked beside the monolithic boulders of the Hidden Valley Campground. It is no wonder they have a residency program here, as the entire day unfolds for retreating, reading, breathing, walking, listening, and watching the quietness of the clouds as the cactus expose themselves.

Where is local food in the desert? We equipped the car with dried fruits, nuts and grains. There was hardly a tree in site that sprouted green leaves let alone fruit. Within a days of cumulus clouds and rock climbers scaling rocks, we uncovered the magic of the cacti. The prickly pear was just in fruit, but many of the fruits were not quit ripened for tasting. From spending time in Mexico, Joanna was accustomed to the red striking fruit, it's many ways of eating and the simple art of harvesting. I hadn't a very strong liking nor desire for harvesting or working for the green bean tasting from the nopales, the cactus paddles from which the prickly pear is produced. The Land of Little Rain book carried on the discoveries and uses of desert plants, particularly the mesquite tree from which Bar-b-q flavoring comes from, creosole, from which a sap emerges for Indian arrowhead points and the jumping cholla flowers, which are picked off with a large and safe distancing pole.

Within the days in the desert, we looked and discovered, burned a fire in the night to pass the moonrise and identified the variations of cactus pencas. We began to understand the cactus families and the subtleties and variations in species.

With a desert storm overhead, we headed back to the manicured and private mobile home neighborhood in Palm Springs to Joanna's Grandmother's house, to repair the obviously rough running vegetable filter in the car, so that we could use the remaining 10 gallons of oil we cleaned in Camarillo.

With 2 hours of car maintenace, manual reading and oil adjustments, we invested in the best 6 in wide wrenches to add to our Grease Girl car kit, changed the filter and prepared for the next leg of the trip through the south.

California research and wonderings

Spending time in urban centers has given us the opportunity to source from the riches and most comprehensive cultural and educational outlets.
CA has been fruitful. I met up with a dear friend who works at Patagonia. Patagonia offers employees up to $2500 towards the investment of a hybrid or alternative fuel vehicle. Hows that for benefits. She also got us a link with the few restaurants in town that are savvy to collecting oil. The Thai restaurant down the street was ready to start a weekly schedule with me. The sushi restaurant was already on a system of collecting and delivering. The other Chinese and Thai restaurants thought I had already come in last week. They were prepared for gathering oil for me. In addition, for the first time this morning I found companies that actually clean and have a delivery service to your home like Green Diesel in Chino, CA. However, they don't distribute on a pick up basis.

We have been building our vocabulary and our interests are converging in a community of artists and activists, historians and mechanics. They are so few times in life to just learn and research and piece together ideas and spur others. We are doing just that.

San Francisco was filled with a visit to the largest botanical library in the western US. Joanna even found a publication from a regarded author she had worked with in Oaxaca. We looked at companion planting, heirloom seeds publications,botanical illustrations from South Africa that was inspiring for drawing. We made it to the Prelinger Library, which was written about earlier in our travels. Our camping dreams and set-up, process and location was inspired by the historical societies current exhibit of the Way We Camped. We ogled over the maps, camp song books, poems of the love for bacon and vintage publications of traveling techniques and set-up. We crossed the street to
SFMOMA to get a view of Ann Hamilton's indigo blue installation. There is nothing more profound than seeing what seems like 18,000 worn work shirts, pressed and folder into a triangular mound and an attendant worker sitting at the table in front of it erasing single words from a old book, letting the eraser bits make a nice pile of refuse, to make a commentary on labor.

Santa Cruz welcomed us to a beach side apartment bustling with friends and a warm welcome to the Santa Cruz County Fair , where we headed straight to the agricultural complex to view what the local pride reveals. Vegetables were showcased and given awards for the best in show. Growers were often young kids. The vegetable had been there all week and weren't exactly in the best shape, nor were the cakes from the last weeks contest. However I did see children bringing in their parents to show them their awards. The feeling of pure pride over a small reddish tomato, even if it is not organic or heirloom, seem effective for these little ones.

We passed through Castroville, to the micro climate where artichokes grow like crazy. When you can't go organic, just go kitsch...was our motto for castroville, as we passed factories steaming with who knows what, set out to find a seaside shanty for fried artichoke hearts and settled for the diner with a 6 foot artichoke outside. How can you pass through and NOT eat the artichoke bread?

LA was brewing with scientific and cultural combinations of art and space. Our visit to the Museum of Jurassic Technology was more than we had planned for. The moving dioramas inset into the wall and mechanical waves took our breath away. We came upon a historical view and diorama display of the history or mobile home and trailer living.

Just down the street was the Center for Land Use and Interpretation. They welcomed us through their discreet doorway. There was a parking exhibit that was not as impressive in presentation as it is in installation in urban centers. The most luring is their comprehensive library of industrial, urban or rural sites. The attendant encouraged us to document and perhaps submit land sites that we come across that can be added to their archive.

We are headed to Joshua Tree for a few days to find a few days in the desert to collect our ideas, source out the artistic community that has sprung up there, enjoy the quiet still sunrises, wax the car, fix the stove, and take all of bits and pieces of imagery that we have collected over the past 4 weeks to collage and build our journals. We are in the second leg of our travels. We will attend a sustainable gardening workshop at Native Seeds in Tuscon, visit the botany at the Desert Museum, and take to the mountains of Santa Fe to follow the Fallen Fruit local tree map and present out traveling photo booth to a high school class. Seeds of Change is offering us a chance to tour their gardens and view their seed banks. Marfa Texas will follow, with a plentiful and active arts festival. San Antonia will be next. Stay tuned. We are making, building and finding daily, although often times so rural it is hard to connect and share with you the day to day.

AND to our delight...we have a full tank of filtered veg oil in the car. Special thanks to the generous use of the Carman Family kitchen and to the plentiful and generous collection of veg oil.

Camarillo, CA

The sun shines bright here. There is not a cloud in the sky. The car rested at the curb overnight; windows down and the morning dew with a hint of ocean air freshening up the miles of vegetable oil that lingers in delight. A banjo tune plays plays, it was a CD bought this morning from the unexpected kind and sincere woman in the manicured stucco home in the older part of Camarillo on the garage sale saturday morning rounds.

The nephews of the Carman house are at their soccer games, the pappa of the house is here, after a completed and well seasoned pork shoulder that was cooked to finish at the top of the night hour.

This home stop in Camarillo, Ca has been brewing with visitors. Aunts, counsins, 2nd counsins, nephews, grandpas, sisters, moms and more kids. It has been vivacious in hugs and food. A place anyone can call home and find a warm meal cooking on the bar b q.

The sharing, making and thought about food is the most impressionable here. It is not so important the source and local nature of the food but the shear form of sharing it. With visitors and family of all different walks of life, food takes all forms, making sure there is a bountiful enough for all visitors to feel welcome and nourished. Just yesterday morning I was welcome into my aunts home and gifted with warm of fresh bread. The outdoor bar b q has been beaming with hot dinners as a welcome to feast over the tales of south texas fishing and vietnam fermented fish breath blocking holders used by barbers.

Just last night, as the bustle of kids plunged into the pool, Jaima and Laura sat around the fire. My sister had encouraged them to stop by. They family became part of our family a year ago when they became displaced in their home and came to live here while they gathered their next plan. Jaime the father, has always worked in the fields. Although we shared the walls and welcome of a home, the mystery of his actual day to day work was often a mystery.

Camarillo is a small town interlaced with suburban homes and teaming with agriculture. It is a place where you can smell the harvest of the morning from the freeway. A place where cilantro is harvested in the fields at 6:15 just when the sun breaks the horizon to be able to see the base of the plants. Broccoli and celery, kale and lettuce are planted in rows, tightly packed in with as many as 6 rows to each soil mound.

Jaime invited us out to see his morning harvest. At the crack of dawn for us, which was 8:00, we arrived, just 2 miles down the freeway, entered on the dirt road to park in next to all of the other cars. The workers had almost completed the morning harvest. They had cut, rubberbanded and packed as many and as precisely as 60 cilantro bundles per box. There must have been 400 boxes. They took a few minute break waiting for the truck, marked the boxes, and the supervisor took the morning inventiry. The 40 or so workers loaded up the truck to call it a day.

Hopefully there is more work in the next week, which can be found by taking a look at the harvest crops, to see which one is in need. Jaime supports his family from his fruitful labors. He has been a friend and part of the family here. He is pround of his hardwork and has a humble manner of sharing even the fear and information for the chemicals that are still settling on the surface of the soil when they go in at the crack of down, disredgarding the 24 hour warning. He wares the marks of hard labor on his hands. His forearms blotched with his reactions from the many sprays that make the land clear of all bugs and prevent not a single invasive weed.

Cilantro still sticks to our palms, or the beautiful and pungent smell that is. The same boxes that Jaime was packing this morning on our tour to the agricultural site.. and these boxes make it as far as New York, Joanna remembers the graphic on the box from working in a restaurant in brooklyn.

This labor is hard. Jonathan, Jaime and Laura's son want to be a rancher. He loved his last visit to work with his dad. Laura knew that as a young kid, as eager as he was that working there even just casually, and to help him make a small allowance would be wonderful for his work ethic, but ran the risk of exposing his youthful body to a slew of chemicals that are being sprayed and resting on many of the leaves and topsoils.

Organic farms are harder to work on Jaime said. They often smell like fish from seaweed fertilizers, the produce is crawling with little insects that are not being sprayed for and the weeds and manual labor to mantain them, is laborious.

Can one really afford to choose the healthier work? Can agricultural labor become better? Will anyone take initiative to encourage better standards for farm labor? Did you know that the same pesicides that you wash from your lettuce is what others breath and wear on their skin and take home when they hug their children?

It was Jaime's family life that made him shine past his work challenges. It was the health of his spirit that has seemed to heal any physical ailments from his labor.

Here's to the cilantro that will cross the US to restaurants and markets all over the country. Here's to the risk of the exposed labor force who provides hand harvested produce to our grocery store shelves. Here's to eating locally and washing vegetables plentifully.

Santa Cruz jubilee

Just as we departed from San Francisco, my sister voiced her willingness and flexibility to allow us her 1 gallon pot and stove top to filter the oil in her house. It may splatter a bit, but we would be clean and yes the house might smell like french fries or thai spring rolls. 1 1/2 hours later, with an espresso and a little multi-tasking, nearly 10 gallons of used veg oil was filtered and funneled in the car. It was the first time the system was so easy, it just took one set of hands. Since the oil was heated, the same process that took us 4 hours and 6 filters in the front lawn of a suburban Davis, Ca neighborhood, took us less than an hour..without cleanup. The small price of time you exchange for free fuel.

A few roundabout roads to the highway later, we carpool lane drove passed tons of traffic with the sweet smell of canola oil at it's best, hot and it small puffs into our sunroof.

The best feeling in owning a mercedes german car is that maintenance questions can be answered by the comprehensive maintence manual in the glovebox that we so pleasurably fixed the other day. The small jerks in the car and it's slight loss of power while riding on veg oil was troubling. Between the manual and the Greasecar mercedes 300d WVO manual, we diagnosed the slight clog in the nozzles of the fuel injectors. Now we are not mechanics by any means, but figuring out the problems of a car is similiar to living homeopathically. Don't you think?

We have arrived in the home of some lovely and welcoming friends from college. We already have the invitation to as many as 10 gallons of peanut oil from their neighbor whose installation plans went astray.

As for now, with a few bats of the eyes, a dinner with old friends posing for cheesecake school portraits, the ocean breeze swirling by, and the harbor, welcoming a morning stroll, we just might wake to hit up the local carnival that starts tomorrow, just in time to taste and judge the apple contest. Is it about flavor, organic apples, heirlooms or just good ole fashioned taste?

San FraNcisco Round 2 1/2

With bellies topped high with Yucatecan delights, we have made it home to the haven of my sister's apartment. With full speed apartment construction over head, we are due in for a rest after our third day of research and true and pure foraging. Early this morning, we made it out to 8th and Folsom st. to browse the Prelinger Library. The Prelinger Library was created by two individuals with interest in archiving specialty information. Amidst the 6 main shelving units, we gently scanned the racks for process research. This sort of foraging inadvertently assist Joanna and I to be attentive to what we are passionate and fascinated by. Joanna found a pamphlet on ethylene, a chemical sprayed on fruit for transport, potato varieties from the 60's and a guide to growing potatoes for French fries. I took a look into mapping guides, insect diagrams, historic automotive travel and naturalist guides. Megan who runs the shop was very welcoming and personable and her partner in crime was equally helpful and encouraged us to browse through their wonderfully labeled and archived boxes of what has become their ephemeral collection. Luckily the meeting that was taking place in the front open air office was full with chat and dutiful progress of the local agriculture, and sustainable living, which is thoughtfully addressed in their extensive collection of USDA manuals from the mid-50's through to present. Many of their larger collection generously came from larger libraries that have closed or rid of large surpluses and editions. A surprising number of excess publications get sent into a vault through the library of congress. It is lucky for us that we got to discover these publications, some beautifully kept from 1903 and beyond.

This research, and insight into agriculture and the environment is fascinating in a time when we are just starting to heavily question progress, process and the quality of living, eating and educating. The information has always been published and available, but somehow seeing toxic chemicals foil stamped on a canvas 150 page hand bound book makes the information seem precious and slightly frightening all in the same sentence. Vintage publications are not current and often outdated in scientific facts and theory. Knowing that at one time this information was fact, is enough to stir the spirit and further encourage us to answer the questions we have embarked to answer....what do people know? Is progress happening? and what is progress?

We can't find progress in these books necessarily, but they contribute to this wonderful vocabulary that we are developing, daily..through passing fields, alley ways, libraries, visiting art shows, picking up local publications, and ultimately piecing together the many layers into a body of work and an inspiration for our travel...inner-city and wild mountain rural

Here's a cheers to my new by the pound red polka dot shirt, to an afternoon of tea and the delight in being able to share with web visitors the collection of portraits from the state fair.

Little ladies hit the town

Another wonderful day in the city of San Francisco. Morning quests of elongated flamenco square dancing dresses from the yard sale next door, a few pecks to a rusty typewriter and dreams of a vintage thermos to replace the glass tea jar that busted at the pour of hot hibiscus tea. We walked as if our bodies were foreign to the steps of hills and slopes. We came upon jade vagabond plant growers, wild poppies, and the morning generosity of a free bus ride. No longer that a few blocks and window glares later did we arrive to the steaming pots of my first dim sum. Equipt with bland porridge and a sesame seed yam roll, we feasted, forgetting to have paper cup tea. Pretty satisfied at our gambling whole in the wall, we departed to forage for three mini funnels and $1.80 worth of sweets....to the exhibit that felt like it changed our lives or at least validated them....The history of camping.

Today we became gypsies of the automobile. We have taken to experience the natural world without restrictions and without the pulls and tugs of daily life. Even in the quaint and vigorous dreams from the 1930's we felt at home. With our camp stove and mortar and pestal, clay mexican cooking bowl, espresso maker and dried grains, we felt right at home, inspired to install out hammocks in more idealic places and spaces. Encouraged to document and post photos with messages of locations and possible camp songs. If you are lucky, we could even stage the next bandanna competition. But by the looks of it, we will stick to the fallen fruit tours of urban fruit tress, picking locally and feasting wildly.

4 new books and another bus right to the right corner of the long lost street, we retire, to sounds and images of artists we discovered by evening gallery strolling.

Such wonderful projects here...such wonderful places to find and discover the ideas and images that make us want to keep exploring and discovering to find the next fresh peach, diorama installation or seaweed dinner salad. Heres to the savory finds of a fruitful city.