PHOTOS Green Acres Village, late April, 2017

This place feels more like a barnyard than an urban location. Many projects in various states of initiation and completion. Most of us who live here also work here at least two hours a day; two WOOFERS have been with us for a week each, so far in 2017, helping out and learning permacultural practices in exchange for board and room.

Meanwhile, our weekly Community Dinners continue. Tonight’s will be led by Rebecca, with her main dish to be “greens ‘n beans.” I’m bringing a chicken. Son Colin will attend again. Many others, both near and far. The rhythm of our weekly event feels both powerful and unstoppable at this point. (See next post.)

New housemate Evan, who took the lead with Chinese for last week’s meal, as of early this morning took off to his other life as a airline steward, flying in and out of China. His cat Boo remains here, and seems to be adjusting well to life with puppy Shadow.

Daily life around here feels both relaxing and focused, both funny and sometimes sad, like when we had to wish Briana farewell three weeks ago. Impermance is a fact of life, especially, of course, in a college town, where flows of students regularly course through.

So, I’ll start with the blooming impermance of the glorious mushrooms that sprouted up a few days ago, and then within 24 hours started to fade. By this morning, what was in form is now disintegrating; looks more like compost than shrooms. I remain in awe of both their sudden breakthrough power and their mysterious evanescence.

Three days ago:

Yesterday:

Various kinds of shrooms are popping up in the garden, but none so astonishing as this “stinky” mushroom (it attracts flies) — otherwise known as “limp dick”?

Here are a few more photos of life in the urban farm and barnyard, starting with interior and exterior of new greenhouse:

The original GANG garden ( identified that way because we now have a number of other gardens, in various states of either repair or getting-ready to plant) as of mid-April 2017:

Cold-weather crops went out a few weeks ago, like these peas and onions:

The pond is still being overtaken by bamboo-ish sprouts. It’s now officially renamed “the wetland,” and still functions to catch rainwater from roofs of two houses.

I re-planted these strawberries in the garden —

from their original location, in one of our original Garden Towers, which son Colin made by hand in the garage that has now been converted to a greenhouse.

This year, in that Tower, I put marigolds, for a splash of color during our Community Dinners.

Meanwhile, we also have another, smaller greenhouse, courtesy the Garden Tower Project. It was used for an experiment that is now finished, and they donated not only the greenhouse but five towers to go inside it as well. They will be taken out of their boxes, assembled and positioned to catch the sun and planted for our winter greens next fall.

Meanwhile, I agreed to water seedlings of eleven flats of various veggies, for another experiment that the GTP is conducting, this one in a geodesic dome. That means: for ten days I misted each tiny seed three times, twice a day. Let’s see now, that’s 75 x 3 x 2 x 11 or 5500 squirts per day. No wonder my wrist feels ruined. Glad they’ve now graduated to being watered with a can.

While I’m busy squirting, Dan, with Evan’s help, has been busy reclaiming old permaculture beds in front of the new DeKist house. That means, using a garden fork to unearth the thick mat of vines covering the entire garden. And there’s still more to go.

I did manage to get a jittery shot of Evan in mid-air, just before he pounded that fork into the ground . . .

As the fork penetrated the mat, he kept going down himself, to apply leverage to the fork while lifting up the viney mat blanket. Notice that the entire area between them and the house is also matted, and must be reclaimed. It does seem that “climate change” has been seen the acceleration of growth of all sorts of vines.

Finally, here’s a recent view of the garden gate and sign, with composing center beyond,  leaves and other carbon matter stored just behind the fence.