tidaldruid

[tidaldruid]

It's giving balanced ecosystem vibes. Very mindful, very demure, and cutesy. 🦦 ✨ A healthy sea otter population sustains and protects a thriving kelp forest ecosystem.

[tidaldruid]

9/22/2024 It was beautiful outside tonight. The sunset sparked fire off wispy clouds and the sky was soft periwinkle. The air was warm and still, and even the traffic was quieter than usual. I could almost pretend it was the ocean I hear, except that one motorcycle engine broke the illusion a bit.

I fertilized my elderberries and the surviving chestnut in hope that will keep them going through the fall and winter and they'll come back stronger in the spring. Probably fall is not the time to do this but we'll see.

Even more nasturtiums are coming up. I've heard from other people in the area that gardens have been strange this year. Things blooming out of season, most veggies doing poorly but all the huckleberries are going crazy. I wonder if this has to do with having a somewhat sunnier spring and windy summer. I haven't lived here long enough to have a good sense.

Seems Ohio is having a drought right now. I wonder what it will take for people to see the danger we are in. The earth will endure no matter what we do, but if we don't make changes to preserve the ecosystem, then it's humans who will suffer.

Is momentary profit and convenience really worth this? It feels hopeless sometimes, when those doing the most damage literally do not care and those of us who do care are working so hard to survive that we can't do much to force change.

I wish I knew what to do. I'm not an organizing things and leading stuff kind of person. I don't have a bunch of spare money. If I had a billion dollars or a trillion, I'd buy some land, start building a food forest and find people who also want to do things better. If politicians won't do anything, we have to take care of each other, but I feel very alone here.

I keep saying I'll go to the Unitarian church but I'm stretched so thin for time and sleep as it is. Working full time is a scam but it's also the only thing keeping us afloat so. I wish just my hands in the earth and my words could be enough to ensure my family has food and clothes and shelter. I often think I was born in the wrong time.

[tidaldruid]

9/20)2024:It is warm and sunny today. I fear the battle against weeds in the front yard may be lost. At least until winter. Despite pulling up so many, every day there seems to be more.

But it is good for the soil, so whatever the landlord may think, maybe I don't need to fight this quite as hard. The silverweed is doing well, so hopefully next spring I will have a lot less bare ground to start with.

In the backyard, the loud alarm call is back. Seems to be coming from a tree behind the house across the street from the back fence. Which seems a bit overzealous for alarm, but to a bird, fences must not seem like much of an impediment.

[tidaldruid]

Birds Sing Anew After Residents of New Orleans Ninth Ward Restore 40-Acre Wetland to Historic Glory https://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/birds-sing-anew-from-within-40-acre-wetland-restored-by-residents-of-n-orleans-historic-lower-ninth/

The Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans has recently witnessed an incredible eco-renaissance following decades of damage and neglect.

Led by a local community development group, a 40-acre wetlands park has been restored to glories past with hundreds of local trees that attract over a hundred species of birds, plus joggers, picnickers, and nature lovers besides.

The story begins with Rashida Ferdinand, founder of Sankofa Community Development Corporation (CDC). Growing up in this historic part of New Orleans, where Black homeownership thrived, where Fats Domino was born, and where locals routinely went out into the wetlands to catch fish and crustaceans, she watched as it suffered from years of neglect.

Poor drainage, ruined roads, illegal trash dumping, and unmitigated damage from hurricanes slowly wasted the wetland away until it was a derelict eyesore.

In the name of restoring this wild heritage indicative of the culture in the Lower Ninth, and in order to protect her communities from flooding, Ferdinand founded the Sankofa CDC, and in 2014 entered into an agreement with the City of New Orleans for the restoration of Sankofa—a 40-acre section of neglected wetlands in the heart of the Lower Ninth.

The loss of Sankofa’s potential to dampen flooding from storms meant that over the years dozens of houses and properties were flooded and damaged beyond the ability of the inhabitants to recover. Forced out by a combination of nature’s fury and government failure, the cultural heritage of the community was receding along with the floodwaters.

Ferdinand knew that restoring natural flood barriers like Sankofa was key to protecting her community.

“Hurricane protection is a major concern in the community, but there’s a lack of trust in the infrastructure systems that are supposed to protect us,” Ferdinand told the Audubon Society.

Today, Sankofa Wetlands Park is a sight to behold. Hiking trails snake through a smattering of ponds and creeks, where bald cypresses and water tupelo trees continue to grow and cling to the ground even during storms. Picnic benches have appeared, wheelchair-accessible trails connect sections of the park to parts of the Lower Ninth, and local businesses are seeing more visitors.

Visiting birders have recorded sightings of over 100 species of songbirds, ducks, near-shore waders of all kinds, egrets, and herons, and the park also acts as a home and refuge for otters, beavers, and a variety of amphibians and reptiles.

It needed a lot of work though. Thousands of invasive tallow trees had to be uprooted. 27,000 cubic meters of illegally dumped trash compacted into the dirt had to be removed. A 60-year-old canal dug by the US Army Corps of Engineers had to be disconnected, and all new native flora had to be planted by hand.

Audubon says that Ferdinand routinely can’t believe her eyes when she looks at the transformation of Sankofa into its current state.

“Seeing butterflies, birds, and other pollinators in the park is a sign of a healthy ecosystem,” she says. “All we had to do was create the right conditions.”

Slated for official completion in 2025 with an outdoor amphitheater, interpretive signage, and additional trails, Ferdinand and the CDC have their eyes set on an even larger area of wetlands to the north of Sankofa.

Along the way, Ferdinand and the CDC attracted many helping hands, and entered into many partnerships, But the catalyst for change arose from the spirit and determination of one woman in the right place at the right time, for the benefit of hundreds in this historic heart of a historic city.

[tidaldruid]

9/18/2024

The sky has cleared since yesterday but the ground is still as wet as if it had just been raining. The dandelions are still going crazy, despite the lateness of the season and I pulled some up to keep them from shading the strawberries. Yesterday it was freezing but today the sun is warm. Maybe the nasturtiums will get some flowers out before winter.

The elderberry that was doing well has lost several leaves. I need to figure out if this is seasonal or nutrient related.

This evening this sky is clear and golden at 7pm and most of the ground is dry. It's warm and not too windy, so it feels good to be outside. There is one bird in a nearby bush with a loud rhythmic chirp. I intend to fertilize the elderberry trees and the chestnut this weekend, as well as divide and replant the lemongrass. I also have some seeds to sow though I may start some of them indoors first.

Even after 24 huckleberry muffins, 8 4oz jars of jelly, another 4 jars of jam and more in the freezer, the bush is still fairly full and the smaller bush hasn't even ripened yet. You can easily imagine how well the land could provide for us, if we took care of it properly.

My daughter found a fat slug in the backyard, the color of rust. She claims it has tiger stripes which I cannot see. I am not quite as enchanted as she is but they certainly are prettier than the green-brown slimy booger types we had in Ohio. Maybe it will kill the dratted blackberries.

I was going to spend the evening at the beach today but I decided not to put off jam and jelly further, as my plan to go into work late tomorrow was somewhat altered. So I will go Friday instead, if the weather holds.

[tidaldruid]

9/16/2024

Still trying to get used to this new routine of spending time outside and not making myself feel bad about missing some days.

It felt like fall for the first time this morning. It was cold in the house but by the time I went out the sun had started to warm things up. Still it smelled cold, like the wind held the memory of ice on the mountains. Maybe it was just the ocean.

The sun has finally angled south enough to hit the front windows in the morning, which is good for the chestnut in the corner and the plants I've moved to the front window in anticipation. I may have to report my coffee plant and move it there as well. I'm a bit worried that the larger elderberry in the yard will not get enough sun in the winter but I guess we'll see.

My attempts to help the stonecrop spread seem to be working, however, and the bigger kinnikinnick is also reaching its little arms along the ground, hopefully making the yard a little less hospitable to dandelions and broom. It gives me hope that some of my gardening will not have gone to waste.

It's even colder in the evening. The sun is already half down at 7:30 and the wind is almost louder than the traffic. I worry that the wind will dry up the water before it does the plants any good.

But everything seems to be doing well, or at least not worse than it was. The one elderberry has several new leaves at the base, so I'm hopeful. The crabapple is still green and the nasturtiums are growing. The front yard chestnut, miraculous survivor of being left in its shipping box for two weeks, is still growing but its leaves are a bit yellow on the edges. I might try to fertilize it a bit, maybe just add some garden soil and more mulch.

After reading up on lemongrass it seems like I may be able to overwinter it in the yard. So I plan to divide it and plant most of in the front between the stonecrop, but I'll bring at least one inside just in case.

As I walked to the chestnut tree in the back, which feels a bit like keeping vigil for the dead, I heard a cricket or frog chirp in the grass very close to my foot, the only animal life I heard so close to sunset. Except for my cat, who hates when I go into the backyard; she spent the entire time sitting in the bathroom window screaming. I'm not sure if she's mad she's not allowed out or is genuinely concerned for my safety.

Although I enjoy falling, the turn toward winter is always a little sad for me. Though i would prefer to be nocturnal, the true is that the lack of sun gets to me, and though it doesn't get very cold here, it does make me even less likely to venture out. Part of the goal of this journal is just to remind me of how much I love nature and to get me more in time with seasonal rhythms. If only my job allowed me to hibernate.

[tidaldruid]

9/12/2024- Still raining. It seems we have entered autumn a little early this year though I suspect the rain won't last. A crow cawed when I went out onto the front porch but wasn't visible.

I didn't used to like gray skies and rain, but it's different here. Rainy days make the air warm and still. The plants glow with life. The sound of rain has always been soothing but I no longer find it depressing. I look forward to seeing what new things have grown.

By the time the sun is setting, the sky is clear. The sun is golden but has not yet sunk below the fence so I'm blinded when I step into the backyard. The sandy parts are still damp, churned by rain rather than smoothed by wind.

As depressing as the inexorable spread of the blackberry is, the crabapple tree is doing well. And a new surprise: something in one of the beds in the back that I didn't plant turns out to probably be some sort of wild cherry. That's the kind of surprise plant that I like.

Once again I hear quiet bird chirping, like Cinderella's songbirds, there is no tune but musical all the same.

In the front yard, conditions are much the same as yesterday, but, as I take a peek at the one chestnut that still seems to be doing well, I notice invaders. Broom, from the vacant lot on the west side of our fence. I pulled up several plants, one nearly as tall as I am, which I did not think I would manage. Their stems are so thin that they go unnoticed from a distance, hiding amongst the ferns that I allow to run wild in the shadiest part of the lawn.

Unlike with dandelions, it feels good to pull up the broom. It is a problem, and like blackberry, difficult to get rid of once established. Honestly without the money and time to really build out a functioning ecosystem, it's an unwinnable war, at least not without doing more damage than you're preventing. But with muscle, I held it back a little while longer.

I feel like a lot of my life is like that, making order from chaos. Not too much order, but just enough to get by, to add a little more beauty and kindness to the world.

[tidaldruid]

9/11/2024- It has rained. The air seems very still and I can hear the ocean. A crow cawed from some distance away but still no one ate the huckleberry cake so it was a bit waterlogged. Maybe throwing it further into the yard will attract the birds.

Everything looks fresh and green after rain, and I think we might be able to harvest another batch of huckleberries today or tomorrow.

The ground is still wet in the evening. It is much warmer today and the wind has died down. The sky is still cloudy and golden with sunset. A bird peeps quietly near the eastern fence even though the dog is being an absolute maniac.

More nasturtiums have sprouted. Seems late and futile. Will they even manage a bloom before the first frost, let alone seeds? I wonder if that's a lesson for me too, that even if it feels pointless, there is value in trying, if only to enrich the ground for later attempts. Or maybe, one shot in a million is still a shot. Though it seems unlikely nature is telling me to play the lottery.

One of the elderberry bushes I planted that I thought may have died had tiny new leaves. Making an alarm to take care of my plants seems to be helping. Parts of the stonecrop in the front yard have broken off; I think they are trying to spread. So I planted the ones I found. The hope is to slowly make the front yard completely inhospitable to weeds.

Also in service to this goal, I decided the wet soil (sand) was a good opportunity to pull up some of the dandelions. On the one hand, I have a firm philosophical belief that there is nothing wrong with dandelions but on the other hand I rent this house and feel like I have to put some effort into maintaining the.... Vast field of wood chips I received. At least where the neighbors can see.

If you have never tried to pull up a well-established dandelion, especially one that is growing in a group, you will be shocked at how large and deeply interconnected they are. I've been reading a book. Emergent Strategy, about lessons leftists can take from nature. It has less practical tips about building/finding community than I would like, but it mentioned dandelions, that they have these vast webs hidden from sight.

It's something I would like to have but am not sure how to go about. The area I live In is a blue state, but very rural. We only moved here two years ago and it has been difficult to make connections. As a queer, disabled, and Neurodivergent person, I often feel like I might have more luck living in a larger town, but my kids are really happy here. I hated being dragged around the country on my parents' whim... I don't want to do that to them if I don't have to.

I felt like a jerk, pulling up the dandelions. But I bought some native seeds to put there instead. If only building a community of people was that easy.

[tidaldruid]

9/10/2024 Another loud alarm call when I came into the front yard this morning. To me it sounds like buzzing, beetle wings of a kainu sized beetle but my husband says it reminds him of laughter. It's coming from the large tree in the front corner- maybe a Douglas fir.

The air feels cold but also a bit stuffy, the sky is gray with rising fog. The river is probably quite warm from the heat wave inland and steams when it hits the ocean, which we could see if there were less buildings and trees in the way. The Pacific is always cold here, with dangerous rip tides and sneaker waves.

The cake I left out by my little redwood was untouched this morning. Surprising that no raccoons or skunks availed themselves, maybe due to barking dog. But I'm sure the crows will enjoy themselves.

[tidaldruid]

9/9/2024- It is cold and gray in the morning, not quite gray enough to hide the sun. Weather Underground says it is 57 degrees. Sounds fake. The sandy parts of the yard are cold under my feet, damp with dew.

There are some birds, no calls that I know, quite incensed that I have entered their territory. Loud jay-like alarms from the trees to the east. Irritated peeping from the hemlock in the west corner. Invasive blackberries are taking over the back. I'm going to have to try to dig them up because I don't want to use pesticides.

The chestnut I planted in the spring may not survive. The summer wind was probably too much, and I ought to have amended the soil before planting a tree. I try not to get too down on it because this is our last year here and it's not as if I had a great deal to work with, or money to fix it, but I always feel depressed when something I planted dies.

I've been feeling so disconnected lately. My job seems to take all of my energy, but I want to get back into regular practice, both meditation and in my relationship with the land. Been thinking a lot about adapting my druidry more to both modern life and my specific climate and how that would work.

In the evening it is even colder. The sky is clear, except for wispy clouds to the west, but the blue seems a strange color to me, almost slate gray at the very apex of the sky even though the sun has not yet touched the horizon. I wonder if this is the remnant of wildfire smoke. Nothing is on fire near us but in the evenings and mornings my eyes water from the fine ash floating unseen in the air.

The sound of cars seems very loud at 7pm, but I can also faintly hear a steady high pitched chirping, insects I think, crickets or cicadas. It seems too late in the year for frogs.

I had never noticed before that a large power pole, one of the triple or quadruple tier ones, is hiding just behind the hemlock that hangs over the back fence. I wonder if the hemlock was planted to obscure the pole and if someday it will have to be cut down because it now poses a danger. It seems to me that if the cables themselves were better constructed, trees and birds would not cause fires by existing nearby.

One of the kinnikinnick bushes I planted in the spring has a few berries, bright red like holly. It cheers me up after a long day, an unexpected gift.

[tidaldruid]

09/08/24- Today, most of the huckleberries on the large bush were ripe or ripening but the smaller bush still has a bit to go. The weather is clear and mild, though a bit windy. The moon was visible in the southwest sky around 7pm, barely as wide as the tip of a fingernail.

The false indigo bush has grown a great deal, and the nearby elderberry is still hanging on, but the others are not looking good. Shockingly, the chestnut in the corner is still doing well. The yarrow seems to mostly have gone dormant, as well as the hollyhock, though I'm not sure if the latter ever had enough water, but I've spotted at least two nasturtiums coming up. The lemongrass in the pot is doing amazing. Need to see if it needs brought in for the winter.

The kinnikinnick is healthy, and though the longer fronds of the silverweed are dying back, I think there are new green ones underneath. The stonecrop is still there but doesn't seem inclined to get much bigger, perhaps because of poor soil.