by CC Elder, Bellingham

It’s a fringe society action really. We’re just filling in the gaps. Shoving a bulbous teardrop into the dark. I consider it an act of reclamation. Reclaiming a little piece of something. Never sure what it is we’re reclaiming, but we’re reclaiming it anyways.

One of our flagship sites is a full city lot, three blocks from my house. I refer to it as Little Nicaragua, as the owner is preparing to retire in Nicaragua. The owner tore down the two-story craftsman-style home last summer. Turn over a shovel full of dirt and little bits of shingle and fiberglass insulation are likely to be there. We’re going to leave the dirt there. Till it up, bring in wood chips, spoiled hay, horseshit, and add a heavy dose of giant oyster mushroom spawn. Apparently the giant oyster mushroom is especially skilled in extracting petroleum residues and heavy metals from laden environments. Soil restoration and bioremediation are important for us. We don’t just want to grow food…we want to grow good food.

My favorite chicken, Zorro, is no more. She likely fed a small family of raccoons. She is the third of our urban livestock to fall to the urban wildlife. I still love the little masked thieves of the night. They give me hope, somehow. Comprising their own fringe society, I accept their nature and remember twofold my own responsibilities, and my place. I will close the chicken coop door. I will not take my eggs for granted.

I would consider wearing a mask if it were more socially acceptable. Provide some visual reminder to all that I choose to live in the old style on the new frontier. This frontier is equally challenging as the frontiers of old. The new frontier offers massive debt, the rule of law, cultural norms, commodities unlimited, the comfort of forgetting, and of course an entire new ecosystem of concrete and practically non-degrading pollutants.

A cop harassed me last night because I ran a red light on my bike and I dress like a bum. He called me an ass, and peeled off to seal his point. I wondered if they feed cops cocaine during the night shifts to fire them up so as to deal more on the level with the general drugged fare they choose to regulate. I didn’t respond to him, but I did spend 15 minutes or so walking around downtown to see if I could relocate him and get him to talk to me straight, remind him I’m human and that I’d be much more likely to comply if he had asked me nicely.

That said, a different sort of cop lives across the street from me. He gives me two thumbs up every time he sees me working in my yard and I give him apples and potatoes. Reclamation is a multifaceted action. My vegetables will grow fine next year. Hopefully the grains will mature and dry out before fall rains. The urban fruit forest will set fruit whether I worry about it or not. I’m really trying to reclaim what I cultivate, i.e. my culture. My neighbor cop recognizes there is some value in my culture, and I recognize within this place the need to cultivate something different.

R.I.P. Zorro