Here and now and after

They say that with advanced age we spend more time pondering the hereafter – because we frequently walk into a room and ask ourselves, “Now, what was I here after?” In the moment, maybe we’ve just lost our train of thought. We’ll find our keys, or get a glass of water, or whatever. But the existential questions are still in the room with us. We may be casting around for a purpose, or a promise – something to last us out, and perhaps even outlast us.

Certifiable

In recent years, there has been an effort by agri-business interests to portray opposition to genetically modified crops as “anti-science” – and worse yet, as an obstruction to feeding the world’s population in this era of climate change. Both characterizations are disingenuous…

For the ages

by Rupert Jannasch
Several weeks after what many call a one-in-a-thousand-year storm, it is still hard to grasp the full scale of the West Hants flood disaster. It all started without warning. The July 21-22 weather forecast for this part of Nova Scotia was wet but benign. What followed was an epic thunderstorm, with fork lightning styled after a horror movie. And there came rain. In just hours, several hydroelectric dams were at risk of breaching, and the first of a string of evacuation alerts was sent. The trouble was, chronic gaps in local cellphone coverage meant some residents didn’t receive the message. 

An assemblage of sensations

One of the first items on our to-do list for this summer was a shingling job that should have been done last summer. There are lots of household tasks that get postponed (adding to the overall maintenance deficit) because they are unpleasant or complicated, but this was just a case of time constraints and competing commitments. Installing wood shingles is actually a pretty zen task, requiring neither specialized skills nor significant exertion. (Right up my alley!)

As heads is tails

What a pleasure it is to have the windows open, to let a little taste of the great outdoors float into our house. It was dead still the other morning as I sat down with my first cup of coffee, savouring the fresh new day, when I heard a vaguely familiar call in the distance. Though it was barely audible (my hearing ain’t what it used to be), I detected a Whoo-whoo. Not an owl, I thought. Maybe a Mourning dove? No, the phrase didn’t have that two-note intro; it was just a single note repeated. 

Seeking connection

With the days getting warmer, we’ve been watching for salamanders. Probably they have already appeared in some places, but around here none have been spotted. (Sorry.)
In my mind I hear the sweet voice of Sarah Harmer singing, “Salamandre, Salamandre, / Il faut m’aider comprendre / Touts les mystères de la forêt, / La carte secrète, l’arbre d’oré, / Patiemment, je vous attends.”

A good source of fibre

Many of us – men especially – like to pretend that we have no interest in clothes. This makes about as much sense as claiming to have no interest in food. With very few exceptions, post-Edenic people have felt the need to cover themselves. It is a uniquely human frailty – a reflection of our bodily shame and our vulnerability to the elements.

Three succession stories

Charles Keddy, a well-known member of the Annapolis Valley’s agriculture community, was moderator for a panel discussion on farm succession at the 2023 Scotia Horticulture Congress, held Jan. 23-24 at the Old Orchard Inn near Wolfville, N.S. He said the topic is important because the average age of Nova Scotia farmers is now 56. (There were guffaws from the audience when Keddy suggested that he is helping to keep the average down.)

Knowing ourselves and other animals

This winter I finally got around to reading Charles Foster’s book Being a Beast, which had been recommended to me in the strongest terms. I have never been good at following advice of any kind, nor have I ever been a great fan of nature writing – but I am at least aware that both these things make me a bad person, and that I should try to be better. So eventually I took a crack at it, and was glad I did.

Getting squeezed

For this issue of Rural Delivery, we briefly discussed using a seasonal cover image that would represent not just simplicity-by-choice, but simplicity-by-necessity, to acknowledge the fact that many people at home and abroad are going through tough times. It probably would have come across as disrespectful, or too dark, or just maudlin. At this time of year especially, it’s hard to strike the right tone.

Lessons from a former boom town

Mining proponents have lately been at pains to tell us that today’s industry bears no resemblance to the mining that occurred in previous generations. This is greatly reassuring. But for those who subscribe to the old-fashioned notion that we should scrutinize the past pretty carefully before drilling into the future, Charlie Angus’s new book may provide some useful insight.

Bringing in the May

Back in March, as always, we took cuttings of forsythia and “forced” them to bloom indoors. It sounds almost unkind – but tricking plants into doing what we want is fundamental to horticulture. After decades, the old Russet tree still tries to reach for the sky, and we ruthlessly cut off all those vertical shoots. The grape vines tolerate more mutilative pruning, and every year they throw fruit as if this is their last chance.

Cultural innovation

We are approaching the 50th anniversary of the movie Soylent Green, which is a bit of a cultural touchstone even for those who have never seen it. With Hollywood heavyweights Charlton Heston and Edward G. Robinson playing key roles, it was a somewhat crude depiction of a society blighted by pollution, climate change, housing shortages, dying oceans, sexual oppression, and corporate control of the food system. You know, crazy sci-fi stuff.

Let’s pencil it in!

I don’t think I’m going out on an icy limb when I say that these last few weeks of winter tend to drag on a bit for many of us. It is a season of neither here nor there, of being flung back and forth from one extreme to the other. It’s hard to plan, hard to focus. We shouldn’t complain, but it passes the time. Though we know, intellectually, that we shouldn’t point fingers, we may harbour feelings of animosity toward groundhogs, and possibly toward marmots in general. Alack, it’s the human condition!

Virtually useless

Maybe you have heard about Hans Forsberg, the Swedish engineer who has trained magpies to collect bottlecaps. Forsberg, who is a robotics expert, used a 3D printer to build an avian-oriented vending machine in his backyard – just for fun. When one of the birds inserts a cap, the machine dispenses a peanut or a feed pellet.

Seeing the light?

At this time of year, getting your butt out of bed in time to watch the sun come up does not make you an early riser or a high-achiever. Late autumn sets the bar pretty low. There are many of us stumbling around in the semi-darkness.