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Post by steev on Mar 7, 2017 20:10:56 GMT -5
Have you considered applying to Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo?
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Post by Joseph Lofthouse on Mar 12, 2017 18:18:47 GMT -5
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Post by philagardener on Mar 12, 2017 20:19:28 GMT -5
Looking like a true member of the Red Hot Chili Peppers  Great podcast! |
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Post by richardw on Mar 12, 2017 23:54:27 GMT -5
Love your podcast Joseph, i like how you talk about how a landrace can evolve around a gardeners style of growing, you hate weeding where i love getting out in a evening and have producing a weed free bed, but i can see your point. Ive seen gardeners over the years who have taken your idea to the other extra extreme where they try and spot grow in amoung a long grassy field, what ive seen of that concept is a failure.
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Post by steev on Mar 13, 2017 0:59:25 GMT -5
Well done, Joseph: a very clear explication of how to seek "what works and serves", rather than how to force things to do what one may wish would work. I think people tend to forget how long we've been doing this "agriculture" thing, versus how long we've had the "agribusiness" thing.
I find the whole melon-fragrance issue particularly poignant; years ago, I planted a patch of Israeli-Old Original that failed, so I didn't irrigate the patch. End of Summer, I realized that there was a plant with one large melon there; I took it to my sweetheart's to share; she thought it must be spoiled, because it "stank"; she couldn't understand why I would put my nose on it and inhale deeply; it was because the scent was so deliciously bewitching that it drove all thoughts out of my head aside from its heavenly scent, a moment of being entirely present in a "now" of wondrous pleasure. I realize some may doubt it compares to being given 72 virgins. but really, how much bewilderment can one stomach? A superb melon better serves my purposes.
Once we cut it open, she declared it the best melon she'd ever eaten, but she's still not gotten past the idea that melons shouldn't "stink"; so many years of agribusiness/super-market conditioning to be undone.
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Post by Joseph Lofthouse on Mar 13, 2017 12:53:42 GMT -5
I took it to my sweetheart's to share; she thought it must be spoiled, because it "stank"; she couldn't understand why I would put my nose on it and inhale deeply; it was because the scent was so deliciously bewitching that it drove all thoughts out of my head aside from its heavenly scent, a moment of being entirely present in a "now" of wondrous pleasure. : Don't be surprized if next time I give an interview about my melons that it includes some of this imagery! One time I put a bushel of my muskmelons into the cab of the truck on a hot day. The windows were rolled up. When I got into the truck I felt like I was being fumigated because the odor was so magnificently intense. |
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Post by Joseph Lofthouse on Mar 13, 2017 13:04:07 GMT -5
richardw: I love weeding, and I do a lot of it. I love feeling the air on my skin. I enjoy the sunlight and the birds. I enjoy waving at the neighbors who have to be admiring me for my productivity and fit/trim body. I love noticing my strength and skill. I think of my hoe as a pole, and my movements as dancing, so weeding in my mind is a synonym for "pole-dancing". I enjoy the sense of satisfaction. I'm gardening more than a hectare, so the weeds grow faster than my willingness to keep up with them. But if the crops can grow in spite of the weeds, then that relieves me of anxiety about weeding. Tough to grow an annual garden in the midst of perennial grasses. I'm unlikely to attempt anything like that. Just like I'm unlikely to ever try to adapt citrus to my climate.
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Post by reed on Mar 13, 2017 15:28:18 GMT -5
Stink and odor are words than have negative connotations to me and do not come to mind at all in regards to a good melon. Musk and watermelons are some of the first things I ever grew, I was maybe five or six years old when I planted them on the river bank behind our house. Melons literally hung from the trees, people in boats and fishermen swiped them thinking I suppose they grew there wild. We would go down when it was hot and smash them open and eat um with our hands then jump in the river to rinse the juice off. When the musk melons ripened I could smell them from 100 yards away. Same with the ones my Grand dad grew and who's seeds I planted. I could smell them when we pulled in their drive. I hadn't smelled that aroma in fifty years till two years ago when I planted Joseph's seeds.
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Post by templeton on Mar 13, 2017 16:48:14 GMT -5
Thanks Joseph, great to hear your voice - and ideas. I've got quite a few seeds from your dwarf melon this year - tho they might have crossed with my Farthest North - shock and horror!
I particularly like your comments around 'community adapted'. They raise some interesting ideas for discussion. I haven't done an analysis, but my impression is that most community gardening projects talk about heritage varieties - i wonder if they have even thought about landrace gardening in the sense of local (human) community-adapted seed - an ignorance of genetics and breeding perhaps, or a 'valorising' of tradition over utility. I might try and broach the subject. Wish i had some landrace seeds to share.
You've inspired me - again.
Do you have any background info on the dwarf melon seed that might have arrived cross-Pacific? was there much variety in it? I only had space for 3 plants this season, so not much opportunity to look for variety.
T
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Post by Joseph Lofthouse on Mar 13, 2017 23:27:15 GMT -5
The bush-muskmelons first showed up in my garden as two different plants. By coincidence due to low germination, they were grown in semi-isolation from the rest of the patch. One had round fruits, and the other had oval fruits. I hadn't intentionally planted seeds with bush-style vines. Somewhere around 60 varieties had been previously trialed and may have contributed seeds and/or pollen to the ancestors of the dwarf plants. My best guess is that the bush trait came into my garden as a recessive trait in seeds which were shared with me by the Long Island Seed Project.
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Post by templeton on Mar 14, 2017 2:09:32 GMT -5
I'll see what happens next year.
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Post by walt on Mar 14, 2017 13:36:43 GMT -5
I think of my hoe as a pole, and my movements as dancing, so weeding in my mind is a synonym for "pole-dancing". I have a big heavy hoe I use for tilling my garden, not so much for weeding where a lighter hoe is used. But I call my heavy hoe Matilda, and on the way to the garden I'll sing Waltzing Matilda. |
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Post by templeton on Mar 14, 2017 15:12:34 GMT -5
I have a big heavy hoe I use for tilling my garden, not so much for weeding where a lighter hoe is used. But I call my heavy hoe Matilda, and on the way to the garden I'll sing Waltzing Matilda. That's very Antipodean, walt. didn't know that tune had migrated T |
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Post by raymondo on Mar 14, 2017 17:00:23 GMT -5
Enjoyed the podcast. Nice to hear the voice that goes with a familiar face.
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Post by SteveB on Mar 17, 2017 19:11:36 GMT -5
Just wanted to introduce myself, my name is steve, I've been fascinated by this thread and Joseph's work. I finally decided to join. Anyway, Hi everyone!
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