Farmers’ market musings

Mary Kelley
Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath’ring winter fuel
Like the poor man in the ancient Christmas carol, I’ve gathered
winter kindling and fuel from the wood pruned from valley oaks,
walnuts and fruit trees. My collecting took place during the dry
hot summer months, when I looked forward to the cold winter months
ahead and the building of one-match fires, a ritual passed down to
me from my father. As I collected wood, I wondered how much longer
I would be able to enjoy building a fire at home; it is one of
those traditions that connects us to the land, but is becoming more
and more of a luxury.
On one of those freezing mornings last week, and the day before
the spare the air day for the Bay Area, I knelt at our hearth and
prepared to light a fire. I paused to make sure everything was in
place. The damper was open, and I hoped that none of the neighbors
would mind the smoke that would find its way to the common air we
breathe. The tinder for this fire, newspaper, was waded up into
loose balls on the grate. Ash had already been cleared away from
the previous fire, so oxygen would flow up and breathe life into
the fire. The kindling rested loosely on top of the paper in a
pyramid. Three good sized pieces from a former oak branch rested in
a teepee shape on top.
My dad explained fires to me as if they were living, breathing
things; on this recent December day of fire building, he seemed
very close. Fires are very much like horses, he would say; they
need to be tended, fueled, and respected. The dead parts of the
valley oak, walnut, and fruit trees that gave us the fuel seemed
very close to me, at that moment, too. Timo Alli, who cares for the
health of the valley oak trees that grow on the land around our
home, says that they may be from 200 to 500 years old. I think back
to the day when Timo came in the summer to remove some dying
branches which were a burden to the trees. Watching the saws cut
through the wood is like seeing an old friend loose a limb, but
Timo reminded me that the chipped wood was being returned to the
earth, as a mulch to protect the shallow roots around the dripline.
The pieces that were too big to chip were split into logs and
stacked in the wood shed.
Barbara Kingsolver wrote of the Najuatl People in pre-Hispanic
Mexico, who “celebrated the sacred in ordinary objects and
encouraged the living and the spirit realities to meet up in the
here an now. …people’s sadness for separation from the departed
could be addressed through ritual visiting called Xantolo, and
ordinary communion between the dead and the living. Mexican
tradition still holds that Xantolo is always present in certain
places and activities, including wild marigold fields, the
cultivation of corn, the preparation of tamales and pan de muerto.
Interestingly, farmers’ markets are said to be loaded with
Xantolo.”
Maybe this fire was a place of strong Xantolo, because so much
sprit was with me at that moment. Not only were the spirits of my
father and the limbs of the old oaks near, but so were the
thousands of people from all over the world, lighting candles for
vigils on behalf of the climate conference in Copenhagen. I
carefully lit the one match, and touched three places where the
paper would catch. There was a good draft, and soon the kindling
was lighting the larger sticks. When they were burning brightly, I
placed larger pieces on top.
Finally, when the fire was going strong, I found a good sized
log that would burn for a long time. The log was a dense and heavy
16 pound piece. I balanced the heft in my arms; half of that weight
of dry wood is carbon. Eight pounds of carbon would be released
into the air from burning this one piece. Compare that to the cost
of burning a gallon of gasoline in a car, which releases about 19
pounds of CO2 into the atmosphere. I wonder how that compares to
turning up our thermostat, which is fueled from a generator far
away, burning coal or oil.
In Copenhagen, scientists and economists are trying to quantify
the give and take, the benefit and cost, the pluses and minuses of
all of our actions relating to energy. People all over the world
are lighting candles, sending messages to politicians to make a
commitment to combating climate change. When I was working with an
accountant on my taxes, I asked her if there was any credit for the
expense of paying Timo to take care of our trees. What IS, is that
our tax system sees Timo’s work and our investment as mere
aesthetics. What OUGHT to be is a tax system that rewards
conservation of every possible tree and woodlot on the planet.
The winter 2009 edition of The Nature Conservancy Magazine says
that “forest protection is now seen as one of the most powerful and
cost-effective tools we have to combat climate change.
Deforestation around the world releases 17 percent of carbon and
other heat-trapping pollutants each year.” The cover photo is of
our neighbor, the Garcia River, where fast-growing redwood trees
are protected to sequester carbon. “Each healthy, standing tree
that would have been logged in the past now translates into stored
carbon that is helping curb climate change.”
Louis Blumberg, the Director of the Conservancy’s climate-change
work in California, says that “Nature is our greatest ally in the
fight against climate change. This Christmas season, I will light
and tend my small, one-match fires in solidarity with all those
concerned about our carbon footprint on the Earth. In the seasons
ahead we will continue to protect the living trees and Nature of
our home.
Mary Kelley is the manager of the Healdsburg Farmers’ Market.
The market is dormant for the winter.