I was out picking wild apples (which make the best cider), when a car of tourists pulled onto the road where I was. I overheard the driver complain to his passenger that someone had misdirected them… they were looking for commercial apples. These apples (the ones I was picking) were just wild, and who knew what they were…. (implying that they weren’t any good because they didn’t have a name bestowed on them by a human). I had to laugh. It’s in the agricultural margins like that roadside tree that I was picking that the vast diversity in agriculture gets developed. Thank goodness for all of the unnamed fruit in the liminal spaces between wild plants and domestic ones. There lies quality.
Welcome to my occasional blog! I am passionate about creative place-making, teaching, sustainable food systems, open-pollinated seeds, rural innovation, and local living economies. A native of Chicago, I worked on inner city social justice and environmental issues before following my dreams north. In my spare moments I read feminist science fiction, cook really good food for friends, ferment wine, paint creatively, play on Lake Superior, and spend a lot of time in the woods.