Jellyfish

A few weeks ago at a jazz club I was at, a pianist told the story of a song he wrote called Jellyfish. He explained that in his mind, the lines of music wove together like tentacles. I guess that's the same image I get every time I think about that book I haven't stopped blabbing about, Farm City. Everything Novella brings up in her book keeps on finding its way into my life these days. 

1) The first tentacle, if you will, is quite straight forward. In the early months of the fall, I spent a lot of my time working at City Slicker Farms in Oakland. More than a few times, City Slickers is mentioned in the book and I can only help but picture myself weeding at the Ralph Bunche Nursery or composting at the Herb Farm every time I read about it.

2) The second tentacle is my dad's ex student. Mentioned in the book mostly as the rabbit lady and also as Novella's friend, she is one of the people who is responsible for my interest in agriculture and food sustainability.

3) The third tentacle takes a bit of background...

Mostly it's because I think Sacramento is an underrated street. It connects everything in a secret way. Grounded in the cute Monterey Market neighborhood it runs (four-lanes wide) across Dwight, Ashby, Alcatraz and even Adeline. More importantly, it swings right above my mom's house. From there, the freeway is a quick minute to the West and the rest is just a few blocks East. The possibilities are endless. 

Besides its convenient location, it also houses various interesting spectacles. On any given day, anyone passing down Sacramento can see any range of businesses: from the eccentric birdhouse crafter to the various nursing homes in the more timid Berkeley side, the street then ploughs through a tougher neighborhood where a handful of questionable cafés have sprung up,  and a produce stand is set up in the middle of all the gunshots. Further along are various sketchy jewelry stores, a jiu jitsu studio, and the ever crowded gas station which seems to sell more beer than gas.

Driving down Sacramento, this corner has always been very central. There's a stoplight and I guess something about the way the lights are timed, you always have to stop there no matter what. I really don't think I've ever gotten to that intersection with a green light. But no matter, waiting for the light to change gives you time to look around, to watch the old guys sitting on plastic beach chairs at the station conversing, the clunker cars tricked out with spinners filling up on gas.

Lately though, there hasn't been much action there. Ever since the gas station became Berkeley's BioFuel Oasis, I don't see people hanging out around there. Ever.

Well, as Patrick (the intern at City Slickers, refer to tentacle #1) told me, it's Novella's newest project. I would be critical and say that her project kinda took out the the life of the party but having now finished her book I've learned a thing or two about her. Even though she can be irritatingly full of herself sometimes, I can say with confidence that she is trying, and working hard at it. From what she's written, her projects always seem to work themselves out in some way or another. And at least she's someone doing something in this GhostTown anyway.

Peacocks in Berkeley

To update a bit on the reading front I can tell you this morning I curled up on the couch and made a considerable dent in Farm City. Which is, by the way, getting much more exciting now. I have finally reached the part of the book in which Novella purchases two new piglets for her urban farm. 

This is really exciting news for me since I've always been into having strange animals. As a kid I constantly begged for more pets but of course all my pleas went unanswered. After much frustration, I ended up finding that the only way I could acquire animals was by saving them. Over the years we nursed several baby squirrels and birds back to health. The problem with this plan was that the patients never stayed around for long because as soon as they healed, they left. Not even the kitten we rescued from the park was welcome after it had regained its strength. Yes folks, that's how cold my parents' hearts are, not even a kitten can melt them.

My first real pet-breakthrough was also unplanned. It came in the form of a gift from a scientist neighbor: a little white lab mouse. (I'm sure my parents must've been thrilled) I named her Lily Belini and at the time she was probably one of the most loved mice in all the world. She sat next to me as I did my homework or else kept my parents awake by running on her wheel all night. But in true mouse fashion, her era came and went rather quickly. After Lily, we lived for a few years without pets until my constant begging must have hit a nerve, one Christmas I opened a shaking box to find a baby bunny. I was in ecstasy.

I think that must've gotten us on a roll because then we somehow got two chicks. And at the same time as the chickens came another bunny, a few dozen goldfish and later, my puppy. (The dog definitely took the most work -- years and years of begging until she finally materialized -- but it was totally worth it.) Needless to say, after a few years of hard work on my part, our house did get pretty crowded. It became known as the Teletubby house to all the kids that walked past because they likened the bunnies grazing on our grassy hill to their favorite TV show.

I now remember having criticized Farm City after the first few pages but I have to say, it's growing on me. And at the very least it really did tickle my imagination. It got me dreaming and thinking about all sorts of untraditional pets: little piglets running around an Oakland garden, the ostrich that lives in Point Reyes, two weasels I once saw on a leash in Norway, the legendary peacocks that used to roam the streets of Berkeley... 

And so it begins.

The first few weeks of not being on the farm were certainly welcome, a little break from sore muscles and getting up early was nice. Now after being sick for a few days in a row, that has all changed. Outside the world is autumnal and beautiful, and meanwhile I'm stuck inside trying to speed my recovery so I can go out and enjoy what I'm missing. When I'm not sleeping, I drink tea, or I look outside, or I put on another pair of socks, or I read Farm City (a book I just got about an urban farmer).

Farm City. I'm only about 100 pages in but to be honest, I'm not too impressed. I can't really put my finger on it, it just doesn't grab me the way I wish it would. That in mind, I must definitely give Novella Carpenter credit for having roused me from my sickly stupor enough to inspire me to do something. I believe that in itself is reason enough for me to praise this book royally.

I've been wanting to build planter boxes for a while, but it wasn't really until I opened up Novella's book and fell into her urban farm that I realized I too could have my little sanctuary. (The petting zoo may not go over so well with my mother, but the vegetables are definitely manageable.)

So, with that begins my quest. I will build a planter box for my mother's garden.

I have exactly 16 days until I fly back east to visit family. Doubtful that I will finish in time. But in any case, the race begins.