Inner City Farmer

Last evening, I attended an Intro to Permaculture and Sustainability talk at Habitat Suites, an extremely green hotel just up the road from my house. The discussion was led by Dick Pierce, the head of the Austin Permaculture Guild, and it was exactly what I needed to hear right now.

While I have been working in relative isolation, there is a vibrant community of permaculture enthusiasts in Central Texas, and they are more than happy to share all the knowledge they’ve collected over the years. I can’t tell you how enjoyable it was to sit in a room full of people who shared the same enthusiasm about creating a sustainable society from the ground up. In fact, the discussion was so inspiring I am planning on attending the Guild’s 10-day permaculture design course that starts in late September.

If I am unable to attend the workshop at Esalen, any money that gets donated to this project (and I’ve already received a donation; muchas gracias!) will go towards paying my entry fee into this design course. If I only attend this course and not the one at Esalen, I will hardly be upset. In fact, it makes sense that I learn how to farm my urban plot from people who live right here in Austin, people who understand the seasons and the soil.

In a recent job interview—that’s right; you heard me correctly, unfortunately—the woman grilling me from behind her desk asked me what I would do if I could do anything. I didn’t hesitate before telling her that I would run my farm full-time, turning it into a more productive operation and, perhaps, a demonstration site. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job. (Was I really supposed to say that I wanted to program computers all day long?)

This is the great conundrum of the Inner City Farm. In my effort to extricate myself from the clutches of the greater market economy, I often become completely dependent on that economy. For example, photovoltaics. I would like nothing more than to slap some solar panels on the roof of my house so that I could generate my own energy and not have to rely on Austin Energy, but solar panels are freakin’ expensive!

Here’s another example. I would love to attend the workshop on urban permaculture being held at the renowned Esalen Institute in three weeks (and featured in the flyer above). It’s right up my alley. I’m sure I would learn a ton about urban sustainability and could share that information with those who follow this blog, but like solar panels the workshop requires a hefty investment. Esalen ain’t cheap.

To keep the dream alive, I added a DONATE button to this site today. It’s over there by the cheesy ads (which, if you click on them a hundred times a day, would help me keep my chickens in feed). I figure if everyone who reads this blog donated between $10 and $20 I could attend the workshop. The fee for the workshop ranges between $535 and $1,120, depending upon your accommodations. I would be happy to sleep on the floor just like the hippies who made the place famous in the ‘60s did. If I’m able to raise the money in the next ten days or so, I promise to write about the workshop every day I’m there. If not, no biggie. There will be other conferences (In fact there’s one in Austin this fall).

Have you heard about this miracle weed? And, no, I’m not talking about the stuff featured in Pineapple Express. Jatropha curcas contains a seed that when crushed produces a high-quality biofuel capable of powering a standard diesel vehicle. The plant yields four times as much fuel per acre as soybeans and more than ten times more than corn. Even better, it grows almost anywhere, thriving in even the poorest soil. I’ve got plenty of poor soil in my backyard and no desire to buy any more carbon-producing gasoline for my van. Looks like it’s time for me to start planting some jatropha….

Yesterday evening, I was walking the dog around the block when I ran into a neighbor, Adam, who was pushing his daughter Ada in a stroller. We got to talking about a bush on the side of the road that had recently flowered but only for a couple days. All its purple petals lay on the ground, their color rapidly fading, as we spoke.

Adam made his keen interest in horticulture immediately apparent. He pointed out a plant at the edge of the dry creek bed (taro, I think it was) and informed me that it was edible. Which got me talking about the pond I hope to create in my backyard someday and the plants I hope to grow in it. Which made him think of Tony, who lived just down the road from where we were standing and who I just had to meet.

Like Adam, Tony was my kind of guy. He spoke the same language I do, peppering his sentences with references to “synergy” and “feedback loops” and “aquaculture.” He seemed especially well versed on the last, and I made it known that I wanted to hear more. He promptly led me to his backyard where he showed me his aquaculture system (some of which can be seen in the picture above). In its heyday vegetables—mostly salad greens—grew in the three bins, which held gravel and nutrient-rich water that came from an aquarium full of fish. After the vegetables purified the water, it returned to the fish tank. It was a perfect closed-loop system that grew both veggies and fish… until it got so ridiculously hot and shut down. The same thing happened to the aquaculture project at the Rhizome Collective.

The whole explanation of how it works only took a couple minutes, but it was enough to get me hooked. I now know what Project #91 is.

We are in a severe drought.

Several weeks ago, I set up a rain barrel to catch what little rain falls on my roof.

Now that’s using my head for something other than a place to stick a baseball cap.