Inner City Farmer

I just got back from a long weekend in New Orleans. One of my many goals in this life is to build a structure that makes me feel the way the architecture in New Orleans does. Here are some random shots of houses and doors and balconies throughout the city.

A nice-looking door in the Marigny neighborhood:

The stairs leading up to the Balcony Bar on Magazine Street:

The front door of the Auld Sweet Olive Bed and Breakfast:

A tall shuttered door in the Marigny:

Last month I had the pleasure of meeting Bill Gordon, an older gentleman who spends much of his free time cruising the streets of Austin observing and documenting the locations of various fruit trees, particularly pomegranates. He informed me that there was a fifty-year-old tree right around the corner from my house that had been chopped down by a construction company. He showed me how to propagate a new tree by taking a cutting from a mature one and ever since that day I have been snipping pieces off various trees from around town. I have also been aided by the information I found here. Now my house is full of pots with cuttings of pomegranate trees and jasmine bushes in them. Why pay for trees and shrubs when you can make them yourself?

Why do I feel the need to flee the city and lose myself in the outdoors at least once every month? Beyond helping me relax in a way that I simply can’t when surrounded by cars and buildings, nature has a way of infusing me with helpful ideas. When I returned from Enchanted Rock last weekend, I tackled the problem of what to do about all the water that pools in front of the exterior of the Man Cave every time it rains.

Water, of course, is the bane of all home construction. Ensuring that it runs away from and not into your house is vital to your home’s health and longevity, especially if one of your exterior walls is made out of cob. To solve my problem I looked to my visit to Enchanted Rock for answers. As you can see from the black lines in the picture, water will always choose the fastest way down; like everything else, it’s a slave to gravity. With that in mind I started digging a hole in the ground outside the Man Cave that will, hopefully, draw water away from the walls down into a hole that I will be filling with mulch. I believe they call this a swale in permaculture. Basically, I am hoping that the water that used to pool on the driveway will instead flow into this hole. I hope to use this catchment area to water a large bush. If it all works as planned, I will rarely have to water this plant and I will no longer have to worry about water sneaking inside the Man Cave. Win win.

Am I crazy to do things like drive to the far side of the county to pick up buckets and buckets of recycled glass out of the city’s landfill? On my way home from the landfill yesterday I tried to put myself in the shoes of those whose worlds I briefly interacted with. There was the woman at the intersection of Airport and Oak Springs who tried to cross the road on foot with cars whizzing through the green light nearly hitting her and the two year old she was carrying in her arms. Then there was the man in the car behind me who sped up to about 90 mph just so he could pass me before slamming on his brakes in front me, nearly causing an accident, and for what? To pass one measly car. So, no, compared to the insanity around me, I really don’t think I’m crazy at all.

If you’re looking for an abundance of reusable landscaping materials, I highly recommend a trip out to the landfill. Not only do they have a nice pile of glass, they also have mountains of mulch, and it’s all free. Surprisingly, the view isn’t so bad either. It almost feels like you’re out in the country.

But this trip was all about the glass for me. It’s full of sand and bits of plastic so when I got home I ran it all through a quarter-inch screen. The big pieces, which tended to be sharper, I put in my beds of drought-tolerant plants. The glass acts as both a mulch and a colorful decoration.

The finer pieces, along with the sand, I used in the walkway I am building to keep the stepping stones in place and add a bit of color.

I usually don’t like to publicly divulge where I get my free building materials from, but in this case I have no fear that the rock pile at the Austin Memorial Park Cemetery will be picked clean any time soon. To truly gauge just how big it is, do a Google map search for its address and then take a look at the satellite photos. Right next to the green field you will see the rock pile, which, believe it or not, has grown twice as large since that picture was taken. I harbor dreams of building a house entirely out of stone.