Reflections on a Vote IV

This entry was inspired by my uncle, written in response to his “Reflections on a Vote I, II, and III.”

These days, I sit by a window, grey skies outside are illuminated by a distant sun. It is hard to imagine that the sun exists through the grey, convinced only by the light which flows and ebbs with the hour. How much time passes is a mystery, except for the light. Inside the window, I sit within beige, sterile walls. Carpet absorbs the sound of every footstep. I read a decade-old text, citing research one or two or more decades old. The text is still valid, despite its age. Little has changed.

These days, I glance about the room – anonymous faces focused similarly on texts, or computer screens. No one talks to anybody; we are in a library after all, but many are completely unaware of their surroundings. Focused on their media or plugged into their music. A cell phone rattles on the desk to indicate a text message received. Fingers move quickly over a keyboard while someone chats online. Correspondence without correspondence; we put on blinders to the people around us, yet find instant gratification in someone virtual. Much has changed.

These days, I put on my coat when the sun goes down, and I exit into a dark, anonymous world. I try to forget the challenges of my day, the knowledge lost in concepts misunderstood, from a text decades old. Anonymous faces pass me in the dark, and beyond those faces, rest in those minds, challenges beyond my own. Or, are they mine, too? While I sit, confined by sterile walls, among others in a virtual world, are not the challenges of men whose jobs were lost, elderly whose health has failed, babies whose voices were unheard, women and minorities whose lives were marginalized, and soldiers who live far, far away not my challenges, too? Are we not one world, one body? Are we not also victims when our brothers and sisters have been victimized? What is change, after all?

These days, I sit by a window, a day anew, and I think of how to be a steward of the earth and for others. How can I be a force for change?

Editorial: The Need for Soil Quality Research and Policy

Sometimes I get asked about my work. Sometimes people hear 'soil' and don't ask any more questions. In an effort to learn how to better communicate my work, I took a science communication course this last semester. Here is an example editorial that I wrote as my final project:

“This isn’t dirt,” he asserted to an attentive class. “It is soil.” While he said this, my instructor let a handful of dark, earthly aromatic, crumbly soil fall through his fingers. I, a skeptical undergraduate, had never heard the distinction and thought it was all just semantics. Why the stipulation? Status, I thought. To be called a ‘dirt scientist’, I would admit, didn’t sound nearly as important as the alliterative ‘soil scientist.’ It didn’t take long, however, before I would agree that there was certainly a difference between dirt and soil.

While both words may denote basically the same meaning, I think it’s safe to say that they don’t connote the same thing. ‘Dirt’ can imply filth, something tread upon, even something lower in class – “dirt poor,” for example. ‘Soil,’ however, doesn’t have such extraneous meanings. Like air and water, it is an important part of our environment, and it deserves the respect of a respectable name.

Most of us understand the importance of studying air and water. These are environmental resources that we directly consume, and research on them has led to quantifiable standards for quality. Soil, on the other hand, lacks such standards, perhaps because it is not directly consumed. Without such quantifiable standards, soil is usually only labeled as “healthy” or “unhealthy” at best, where a healthy soil has many desirable characteristics, and essentially, an unhealthy soil lacks those characteristics. Just think of the societal confusion if we only labeled air and water as “healthy” or “unhealthy”.

The ambiguity of soil quality, or health, is alarming given recent data on soil degradation. The UN Environmental Program on Global Assessment of Soil Degradation reported that 40% of agricultural land has been degraded due to human activity and that 6% is in such a state that only major capital investment could restore it to its original, productive capacity (Oldeman, 1994). In a report by the National Research Council (1993), protecting soil quality was deemed as important as protecting air and water quality and considered integral to national environmental policy. The report goes on to recommend to the USDA and USEPA that there be quantifiable standards and cost-effective monitoring methods to evaluate the impacts of farm management on soil health. Such standards would help codify soil protection policy.

Soil protection policy is not new in the United States, but it, too, has often been ambiguous. The USDA began urging soil protection in the 1890’s when abandonment and westward expansion were the cure for deteriorated land, but it wasn’t until 1936, with the Soil Conservation and Domestic Allotment Act (SCDAA), that there was legislation to protect soil quality. This act only supported soil conservation tangentially, however. While it paid growers for taking poor quality land out of production, it was actually a commodity-control policy in disguise and aimed primarily at reducing crop surpluses and mitigating falling commodity prices. In the 1970’s, when commodity prices sky-rocked, the government essentially abandoned the SCDAA and promoted the expansion of agricultural production, often at the expense of soil quality. Without clear definitions for quality it was easy to demean soil conservation policy. So, while ‘dirt’ had left the lexicon of soil conservation policy, there was still no status for soil.

More recently, soil scientists have attempted to change this. Some attempts at defining soil quality have been mostly theoretically – implying both agricultural productivity and environmental stewardship – but applied field research takes the theory and defines standards for soil health in relation to cropping systems. Studies in annual crops suggest using certain sets of tests – like pH, compaction, microbial activity, among others – to quantify soil health. Quantified standards allow for ratings of various land management practices which optimize agricultural productivity and environmental sustainability. In orchards and vineyards, however, management and timescale are quite different, and little work has been done to define proper management for these perennial crops. That is the gap that my work stands to fill. It is not known whether the methods for quantifying soil quality in annual crop systems would be appropriate for orchards and vineyards. Developing methods for testing soil quality in these perennial systems could attract a new community of growers to take interest in soil health.

Some growers are already convinced of the importance of studying soil quality on their farms. Jay H. – a Lake Erie region grape grower – is one of them. “I am absolutely convinced that maintaining soil health is extremely (even critically) important in sustaining the long-term productivity of any vineyard (or other crop for that matter).” For those needing more persuasion, interest in soil quality could be augmented if research shows a relationship between soil health and their bottom line. Management practices which enhance soil health would gain popularity if soil quality was linked with crop productivity or land value. Providing evidence that soil health improves yield and land value could give growers further incentive to manage soil in ways which enhance soil health.

The aforementioned report by the National Research Council indicates the need for environmental policy to monitor soil quality, and the report challenges that “research should be directed at the design of market-based incentives to protect soil quality.” This is the intent of my work. My hope is for growers to be proactive in monitoring their soil’s quality, determining standards, and even helping to develop policy such that they are rewarded for land stewardship. Air and water have quantifiable standards for safety and health. Soil, as another component of the biosphere, will likely have them in the future, and by using environmental, economic, and policy incentives, there will be more than just semantics separating dirt and soil.

References:

National Research Council. 1993. Soil and Water Quality: An Agenda for Agriculture Committee on Long-Range Soil and Water Conservation. Board on Agric., National Resource Council. National Academy Press: Washington, D.C.

Oldeman, L.R. 1994. The Global Extent of Soil Degradation. In: Soil Resilience and Sustainable Land Use. D.J. Greenland and I. Szabolcs, ed. CAB Int.: Wallingford, Oxon, England.

Time Lived and Time to be Lived

I wrote the following for the Janus Essays contest (www.janusessays.org). Submissions in other creative forms were also accepted, and I felt what I had to say was better suited to free-form poetry. The theme of the contest was "Time Lived and Time to be Lived".

Time Lived and Time to be Lived – Like a Blossom Opening

As the winter departs
the time lived is a faint, cold memory and
the time to be lived is the radiance of spring.
The blanket of snow now gone
reveals a carpet of green grass.
The trees are still skeletons –
their transient state before green ornaments adorn their limbs.
The birds have returned and
red-breasted robins hop about;
their songs wake me from morning sleep.
The crocuses are emerging,
to be followed by daffodils, azaleas, and apple blossoms.

As the apple trees bloom
the time lived are the months since their last bloom
and the time to be lived are the months until their next.
Hues of pink – some shades as vivid as the sunset –
attract bumbling bees who dance in life-advancing pollen.
Petals fall,
tiny fruits swell –
hardly recognizable as Mother Nature’s candy come fall.
A summer thunderstorm,
a summer drought –
both present hardship to the pendant orbs as they size, sweeten, and color.
Meticulous care and attention will ensure that most make their way
to fall fruition,
transformed from tree décor to fulfilling harvest for farmer and consumer alike.

Memory has it that
the time lived were cycles around the harvest at home amidst family
when the time to be lived was still an open book in which
many could inscribe but only I could illustrate.
Inspiration was taken from blessings which surrounded.
The sun rose in a different place then –
from behind jagged peaks, its accent unhurried as if
slowed by dew-laden air.
I may never have come to know this time of day
when nocturnal animals retire,
had it not been for the life into which I was born.
A family spirited by long hours of gratifying work in the sun’s domain,
the earth cycling on its axis and in its orbit.
A family rooted literally in its livelihood and figuratively in its history in that place.
A family spirited by the love, peace, and hope from One and one another –
inter-connected like a spider’s web.
Yes, indeed, from this I drew my inspiration.

Now in this place
the time lived means nothing unless
used to inspire and cultivate the time to be lived.
A world uncertain in safety and security,
it takes a certain optimism, a certain hope to see that these do not conquer.
Yet, so small,
how can I make a difference?
Petals fall to issue fruit;
care must be taken to ensure an environment conducive to
these things that many take for granted but others wish to have.
Clean water, air, and soil to nourish body and crop – these are within my realm and
beyond my realm.
These could be my contribution so that
the time lived does not hinder the time to be lived.
Beyond early mornings amidst family, imminent springs to subsequent falls,
beyond pink petals, red fruit, and
a red robe with much pomp and circumstance,
the time to be lived goes beyond me to a community of world and nature.
The time to be lived is like a blossom opening.

Vines and Wines in Chile

This blog started as a journal of my travels, and with this post, it continues as such. I had the fortunate opportunity to travel to Chile over spring break - my third trip to that spectacular country. What gave me such fortune? I am currently the Teaching Assistant for a viticulture class, and when the instructor won a grant to take students down to learn about Chilean vines and wines, I was asked to accompany the group. Granted, because I had previously lived in Chile, I was tasked with planning the trip, making arrangements, and upon arrival, navigating and translating. But, I'm not jaded; it was a free trip, after all.

Haggard from over-night travel, two professors, seven undergrads, and I arrived in Santiago at 5:30am on Sunday, March 16. We passed through Customs, collected our rental van, and ventured into downtown Santiago with, what we came to realize, a faulty GPS unit which had its rights and lefts confused. (Don't ask me how or why, as this was the source of many frustrations which I'd prefer to forget.) Thus, navigating the streets of Santiago - complete with bicycles, carts, and reckless drivers - was a challenge, but we made our way to the hostel and checked-in. One of the guys behind the counter - not realizing my familiarity of Chilean slang - said to the other with a wry smirk after hearing my name, "Michelle es el nombre de mi polola." I replied, "Si? De tu polola? De la presidenta tambien." He quickly retracted, "No, no tengo polola." They didn't try to pull any more fast ones on me after that.

Despite our lack of sleep, we ventured into Santiago for a day of site-seeing with my lab mate's sister, Gabriela. We went to the Plaza de Armas, the Cathedral, and la Moneda (President's Palace). Then we went to Barrio Bellavista - considered the artsy, bohemian neighborhood of Santiago - for lunch. We finished up the daylight hours with touristy "must-dos" - riding the funicular (cable car) and teleferico (gondola) up and about Cerro San Cristobal for marvelous views of the city. Fortunately, the infamous smog of Santiago was not too thick to impair our view. After all this, many were tired, so we went back to the hostel, and everyone else called it a night. I, however, went out with Gabriela to a restaurant in my old neighborhood - Providencia - and we ate manchas and drank pisco sours.

On Monday, our program of university, vineyard, and winery tours began. We collected an unfortunate parking ticket for our windshield before we hit the road for the Antumapu campus of the University of Chile, on the rough, southeast side of Santiago. Littered streets and stray dogs abounding in this neighborhood, the agriculture campus of the university was once in the countryside before city sprawl pushed poor residents in its direction. Nonetheless, the University of Chile is renowned for its agriculture programs, and it was on this campus - in the Department of Food Science and Enology - that I worked two years ago. My former supervisor, Alvaro, welcomed us, gave us a talk on the Chilean wine industry and grape-growing regions, and then showed us the enology facilities.

I will comment briefly on the Chilean wine industry and grape-growing regions, as this will help in understanding the rest of this post. First, the Chilean wine industry is predominately an export-driven industry. Chile has garnered world-wide reputation for producing quality wines, sold at reasonable prices. Domestic wine consumption is low, and domestic sales are not profitable. Grape-growing exists in the central valley - the backbone of Chile, running north/south - and in transverse valleys, running perpendicular to the central valley and spanning from the Andes to the coast. The wine regions of Chile are named for these transverse valleys, and starting in the north and going south, the ones that we visited were Aconcagua, Casablanca, Maipo, Colchagua, and Maule. Snow melt from the Andes provides surface irrigation water to these vineyards planted in alluvial soils.

Concha y Toro is the largest wine enterprise in Chile, and wines of their various labels are easily found in the United States. Contrast this to those of Haras de Pirque, which is a boutique winery that focuses on quality, not quantity. These were the two vineyards/wineries that we visited in the Maipo valley after finishing our visit at the University of Chile. Given my research in soils, I was interested to learn that, at both Concha y Toro and Haras de Pirque, soil quality is of utmost concern. They described their "terroir" as being among the best in Chile, and evidenced their gravelly-loams to us when we walked through the vineyards. While we did not try any wines at Concha y Toro, I would have to say that the Cab Sauvs we tried at Haras de Pirque were my favorite wines of the entire trip.

We drove to the coast that evening and stayed in a hostel in Viña del Mar. The hostel was typically Chilean - a family's home which they expanded to include guest rooms. While it was not glamorous, it was perfectly-located and the staff was very friendly. (Although, I can't say that we met a single, unfriendly person on the entire trip. And from my previous trips, I know Chileans to be nothing less than humble, kind, and giving.)

Tuesday, we toured the Casablanca and Aconcagua valleys. As we made our way to Casablanca, a missed exit meant arriving upon a toll booth. Justine was driving but doesn't speak a word of Spanish. She rolled down the window for me to speak to the attendant. I said that we had missed our exit and just needed to turn-around. Yes, this was awkward, but what was more awkward was what proceeded. Rather than let us through the gate so that we may turn-around, the attendant left her booth and started signaling to the long line of traffic which had gathered behind us to back-up and move to another lane. Oh, gosh. That was embarrassing. Then, we backed up as well and made a suicidal U-turn through orange cones and got ourselves going back the way we had come to our desired exit. Chileans are crazy drivers, and their influence was rubbing off on us. We arrived at Veramonte vineyards laughing hysterically at the incident which had just passed.

The Casablanca valley where Veramonte is located is renowned for its white wines. White varieties grow well in this cooler valley, which receives coastal fog and breezes. This differs from the hotter and drier Aconcagua valley, which we visited in the afternoon. First, we went to the agriculture experiment station of the Catholic University of Valparaiso. The director of the station - Eduardo - is a Cornell alum and was happy to show us their citrus, avocado, and cherry plantings. Then, we visited the vineyards of Errazuriz - the oldest winery in Chile. We saw two sites and learned about their vine and soil management practices for the steep, hillside plantings. Here, vine rows go with the slope, instead of being terraced across the slope. It was explained that terracing actually does more damage by moving/removing topsoil than planting with the slope.

After two full days of visits and much driving, Wednesday was scheduled as a free-day. I took advantage of the time to see my "Chilean mom", Betty, and go for a run along the coasts of Viña and Reñaca. Our lunch plan was to go as a group to my advisor's favorite seafood restaurant in Valparaiso - the sister, port city of Viña del Mar. Knowing that traffic and parking in Valpo can be difficult, I suggested that we take a "micro" (bus) instead of driving ourselves. Taking buses was commonplace for me when I lived in Chile. I didn't have a car, so I took public transportation everywhere. However, I forgot that the buses can be a bit intimidating to a novice - like the other members of my group. Some of the students were dismayed by the (lack of) cleanliness, obvious PDA of young people, and reckless merging of the driver. Nevertheless, we made it to the restaurant unscathed. Our patient waiter smiled as I translated menu items and ordered for everyone in the group. Then, from the patio, we watched the fisherman bring in their catch while we ate our meal. After another bus ride back to our van in Viña, we loaded up and headed south about four hours to the town of Santa Cruz, in the valley of Colchagua.

The town of Santa Cruz was recently revitalized due to the wine industry of Colchagua and the wealth of a locally-raised millionaire, who will remain nameless. A glamorous hotel and natural history museum of private collection are evidence of this man's wealth, which according to the U.S. Customs Office, was achieved through international arms manufacturing and dealing to Iraq during the Reagan administration. But all of those are just factoids; we did not spend much time in Santa Cruz itself, but instead toured the valley renowned for red cultivars. Cab Sauv, Merlot, Carmenere (*the* variety of Chile), and various others are grown and made into varietal wines and blends. Our first visit on Thursday was to Viñedos Organicos Emiliana, and in my opinion, this was the most fascinating of all our visits. VOE is a biodynamic vineyard. Without going into too much detail, biodynamic farming is unique system. It was developed in 1924 by Rudolph Steiner, and beyond the organics of not using synthetic chemicals, biodynamic farming also means using fermented herbal and mineral preparations in composts and sprays, and using an astrological planting and practice calendar. This system of production requires much time and dedication! Interestingly, VOE does not put "biodynamic" on their wine labels, which means they grow their grapes this way because they believe in it, not for a market advantage. Before our afternoon visit, we lunched at a road-side restaurant, which I mention only because I drank fresh juice made of prickly-pear cactus. Delicious! Our second visit was to Viña Estampa, which specializes in blends. After this visit, we made our way further south to the Maule Valley.

Our group was fortunate to have a contact in the Maule Valley just outside of San Rafael. There is a Cornell student in Food Science whose family owns a large vineyard/winery in this region, called Via Wines. When we arrived on Thursday evening, we took a tour of the winery facilities. The factory-style operation was different from anything seen in the Finger Lakes region of NY. On subsequent days, we toured the vineyards with the vineyard manager and had a tasting with the head enologist. It was gracious of them to give their time since this was Holy Week/Easter weekend, and these are important holidays in Chile.

Our hosts were very generous to us in time, accommodation, and comfort. The house where we stayed was a beautifully-restored relic; we ate traditional Chilean food (including my favorite pastel de choclo); and we made our way on some roads-less-traveled to hike the Andes at Altos de Lircay national reserve.

Though it probably needn't be said, it was an amazing trip with great culture, adventure, learning, and of course, wine. Some of that wine even made its way back to the States and may be coming to a dinner party near you. Pictures are posted to my Shutterfly account. Enjoy!

Getting Back on Track

It has been a long time. After a year and a half of not posting, I'm finally getting back on track. Is it shameful that my impetus is a course assignment? I am currently enrolled in a science communication course, for which each student is required to start a blog. While mine was started years ago, I learned that I have broken the cardinal rule of blogging: concise and frequent posts. While I understand that such writing has much appeal to the multi-tasking, attention-diverted, on-the-move individual, I don't work in sound bites. Rule-breaker I may be, but my entries will continue to narrate all that I have to say, though with hope, more frequently than they have the last year and a half.

Food Technology

I am a few months out from beginning my doctoral studies, but in an effort to keep the analytical brain juices flowing during this hiatus, I have some comments on an editorial I recently read in the NY Times by Michael Pollan. Pollan is the author of noteworthy works such as The Botany of Desire, Second Nature, and more recently, The Omnivore’s Dilemma – which I have not yet read but plan to – among others. With such writings to his credit, Pollan is, indeed, an intriguing author, especially among the horticulturally-inclined, like myself. Yet, Pollan readily admits to not being a horticulturist. He is a writer – a writer with a penchant for gardening, plants, and food culture – a writer with a gift for taking these seemingly mundane subjects and peeling away layers of provocative discussion like the leaves of an onion. How appropriate, then, that his editorial focused on another leafy vegetable.

In “The Vegetable-Industrial Complex” (October 15, 2006), Pollan examined the recent E. coli scare that swept the United States, which was linked to the consumption of bagged spinach processed in the Salinas Valley of California. The Salinas Valley is considered the “Salad Bowl of the United States,” and one drive through this terrain east of Monterey will lend no dispute. The valley is a sea of green and purple lettuce leaves, bushy broccoli and cabbage plants, almost any edible leafy or Brassica species found on supermarket shelves is grown there and shipped all over the country. Those tight rows of continuous production are beautiful in my mind, tucked between mountain ranges, nourished by fertile soils, and kept fresh with the morning breath of coastal fog. At harvest time, meticulous hands guard against blemish, and processors wash, bag, and ship the produce for consumer convenience. These cash commodities usually appear immaculate on supermarket shelves when perused by customers, but there are some things that the eye cannot see. We do not live in a utopia; sometimes things go wrong.

That is what happened in the fall of 2006 – something went wrong. Somehow E. coli infiltrated batches of one of our beloved leafy greens – spinach – this crop that we have come to know and love, cleaned of any trace of its field origin, tightly sealed for freshness in ‘controlled-atmosphere’ bags, and ready to serve. Speculation grew regarding the cause of this outbreak. Terrorists were ruled out, but so many variables lay unanswered for quite some time.

Rather than continue with the speculation, in “The Vegetable-Industrial Complex”, Pollan addressed other concerns perhaps more fundamental than the emanating but transient health scare. He addressed the source of our food, the technology we use to achieve its mass-production, and consumer choice. Pollan questioned whether we are getting ahead of ourselves with technological advances in our food systems – whether the technology which helps us grow it, preserve it, ship it, and even solve the problems surrounding it are really to our benefit. As a scientist – a horticultural scientist at that – I could not help but be intrigued by his proclamations.

To elucidate his claims, Pollan reflected on another E. coli incident in the not-too-distant past where U.S. beef was found with a deadly strain. Pollan noted that the strain of E. coli found was one only present in grain-fed beef. He went on to suggest that if we were less dependent on these feedlot cattle and instead consumed locally-raised, pasture-fed beef, the problem would never have arisen. Then, he relates this past incident to the recent spinach outbreak by suggesting that if more of us shopped locally for our produce, the E. coli outbreak originating from the Salinas Valley may not have been the grand issue that it was. We have become too dependent on technology to grow our food – the technology to grow masses of grains to feed our feedlot cattle, the technology to grow pristine vegetables which are shipped across the country, among all the other technologies of our agricultural industries. Instead, if we stepped back from technology and supported local agriculture, we might have a better understanding and appreciation for food and have stronger local economies.

These are some ideas that, in fact, I really like, being the utopian-hopeful that I am. Nevertheless, I am not insinuating that these are not complicated suggestions. For example, are people living in places where certain crops will not grow well supposed to live without this cherished produce? No, I am not suggesting that. After all, most Americans would not be eating bananas if that were the case. Second, mass-production and technology has made our food cheap and readily available. That is a convenience that, as a student, I can certainly appreciate.

But, I do agree that we should all make efforts to support locally-grown produce and perhaps make efforts to move away from technology to source the product and resolve the problem. From past experiences working with young students of urban settings, it was disheartening to hear them say that meat comes from Styrofoam and milk from a carton. Today, probably many of them think that spinach comes from a bag. Yes, I agree that technology – with all its benefits – also has its costs. It is important that future scientists of any field remember this. Utopia aside, our future health, security, and happiness depend on it.

Homeward Bound and Concluding Remarks

My final days in New Zealand I spent taking in sites I was determined to see before departure. On a rainy Saturday, I went up to the Coromandel Peninsula again to see the praised Cathedral Cove and experience the naturally warm waters of Hot Water Beach. Even in a misty rainy, Cathedral Cove was beautiful – carved by the strength of waves to mold an arch resembling a house of worship. Along the approaching trail, I witnessed a lime-green spiral – the shape of the New Zealand silver fern before it unravels its frown. At Hot Water Beach, kids dug holes in the sand until they hit water, water from a naturally warm stream beneath the sand. (It is not the ocean water from which this beach gets its name.) I also spied a beached, baby hammerhead shark on the sand. It was dead, but it must have been recently stranded, as it had not begun to deteriorate and was an interesting specimen. With this final trip, I didn’t see every possible wonder of New Zealand, but I came pretty close.

My final days in New Zealand I spent wrapping up loose ends. I sold my car to a couple of Chilean girls who didn’t realize I understood their Spanish conversations. I wrote an article for the Kiwifruit Journal on vine training the gold kiwifruit – the thesis of the project which occupied my time at HortResearch. I brought scones to work for morning tea on my final day – to everyone’s delight, but there was a bit of dismay when we wrapped up my final lunch time volleyball game. Even my sarcastic officemate/boss expressed a bit of disappointment at the end of the day, saying he would miss my “American accent.” It was definitely a bittersweet moment saying goodbye to these people who had not only become my colleagues but also my friends. I only hope I made half the impression on them as they made on me.

My final days in New Zealand I spent relaxing and enjoying the company of friends. The weather was perfect in my final week – warm and sunny with occasional puffy clouds. I enjoyed running a few more times around and up Mount Maunganui, meandering along the beach, relaxing outside sun-bathed café patios, and relishing in the onset of spring. (After all, it will be quite some time before I actually enjoy a full spring.) I had dinner with a few people from work and bid a sorrowful farewell to my good friend Marcela.

And then it was time to go home. I boarded the giant Boeing 777 at 7:30pm on Saturday. After a movie and a meal, I slept surprisingly well, despite the two crying babies. I awoke to bright sunshine reflecting off the Pacific, and shortly thereafter, I saw land. “California here I come. Right back where I started from.” It almost seemed surreal. Was I really approaching my continent, my country, my state? When I set foot in the San Francisco airport, it was 12:30pm on Saturday. By crossing the international dateline, I had gone backwards in time. My whole family, minus my older brother who was busy harvesting tomatoes, was there to greet me. Welcomed faces for my welcome home. It had been a long time…

California is quite dry, as to be expected, at this time of year. The golden grasses were the antithesis of the endless green of the island country. The juxtaposition of spring to autumn will take some time to grasp, and I am still getting my head around driving on the right-hand side of the road. Tomatoes are being harvested as usual; my room is the same as when I left it. My mom still cooks the food I like just the way I like it, and my dad and I share in jokes and insightful conversations just as before. Most everything seems the same, but I feel slightly changed. My family said my hair looks darker; my skin is pale. Sometimes I blurt out phrases in Spanish or silly Kiwi expressions, but these are only on the surface. For anyone who has done a bit of world travel, I don’t have to say twice that the United States is an interesting place to call home. I am a patriotic person, but I now also have an outsider’s perspective. We, as Americans, are respected, and we are despised. We are viewed as powerful; we are viewed as intrusive. Some have ambitions of visiting our vast lands, some wish to move here, some will never set foot. There are stereotypes – some are true and some couldn’t be farther from the truth. People will hear what they wish to hear and believe what they wish to believe. I accepted some of these perspectives; I refuted others, but I absorbed all of these things. My travels this year will remain in my heart and mind forever, and I will continue to learn from them day after day. But, no matter the differences I may have encountered, no matter the changes I might have undergone, despite the different languages that we speak, the different lands that we come from, and the different waters that divide us, we are all just one people, and we have so much to learn from each other. It is so nice to be home, but home means so much more now.

There are a few more pictures to view from my final days in New Zealand at my Shutterfly account. And as for 'what next for this blog?', well, stay tuned. You never know how it may transform. After all, I'm still wandering...

August/September Dreer Fellowship Report

Horticulture and Culture: The Human Element of Sustainability

Kiwifruit production in New Zealand proceeds under the standards of organic and conventional. Remembering that their term ‘conventional’ is synonymous with our ‘integrated’, this is the sector of the industry which produces the majority of the $720 million dollar annual crop. Organic production is only a fraction of that total. With three million trays of organic fruit exported in 2005, this only accounted for four percent of the crop and three percent of the market share in that year. Area planted has been decreasing in recent years, down eight percent in 2005. Such statistics may seem puzzling, since New Zealand’s reputation for sustainable agricultural practices are known the world over and because crops like apple and kiwifruit are regulated under mandatory integrated management as a minimum standard. But, perhaps it is for these reasons that organic production remains low. Because organic production requires further restrictions and farm modifications, particular attention must be paid to the bottom line. Kiwifruit exports are already extremely profitable in Asian markets – regardless of whether the crop is organic or integrated – thus, there is little room for boosting economic incentives for organic fruit. While integrated fruit has an average farm gate return of $37,600 per hectare, organic fruit only returns $37,000 per hectare. Thus, if the economic incentive is not there, organic production tends to be carried primarily by those who support its environmental implications, appreciate it for health and safety reasons, and believe in it as a system. It is an example of a culture within horticulture.

Organic Production

In my last month and a half in New Zealand, I attended a series of meetings hosted by growers of the Certified Organic Kiwifruit Association (COKA). From the discussions, I gained a better understanding of the issues related to organic kiwifruit production. Two of the major pest problems faced by all kiwifruit growers, but which are particularly difficult to manage in organic production, are the Armillaria fungus and scale insects. The initial symptoms of Armillaria infection are canopy wilting and yellowing, but because these symptoms are not specific to Armillaria per se, growers have become attentive to the signs. The true sign of Armillaria infection is the presence of the white fungus under the bark layer. This fungus often causes the bark to swell and crack – easing the investigation – and the fungus itself has a strong mushroom odor. Black rhizomorphs may also be seen branching from root hairs. The gravity of Armillaria occurs when the fungus girdles entire vines and when fruit is affected, causing softening and bruising. Because organic growers are restricted from pesticide use, they have been innovative in their management strategies. First, they have found that simply pruning to keep the canopy in balance with the roots helps mitigate the disease by keeping water and nutrients in balance. Another method of control employed by these growers is water ‘sluicing’ and root removal. Because Armillaria is spread by root-to-root contact, growers have found that by examining roots and severing them from the plant, spread of the disease can be drastically reduced. To accomplish this, growers will wash away soil around the base of the trunk, exposing the roots. If the roots appear infected, then they are cut from the base. This prevents the fungus from moving up the trunk and also prevents it from moving to other roots, which may be in contact with roots from other vines.

Scale insects are the major insect pests infecting both integrated and organic kiwifruit. Both integrated and organic growers generally use pre and post-flower sprays to control scale, but organic sprays tend to come in the form of mineral or fish oils. Fish oil is a relatively new oil when used for this purpose, and whereas mineral oils may be more effective, they have been shown to cause phytotoxicity in some cases. Fish oil also has the benefit of acting as a fertilizer, but more research is needed to know whether it has any tangential effects. Nonetheless, which ever oil is being employed, it is generally believed that oils perform better than insecticides against scale because they act as repellants so that the eggs cannot stick to the canes. Thus, the life cycle is broken. Oils also do not tend to kill beneficial insects like broad-spectrum insecticides. Incarsia wasp species are known to parasitize sedentary scales, and earwigs predate them.

Also discussed at the COKA meetings were various cultural practices. Soil management is always an important topic among organic growers. Most growers in the Bay of Plenty are applying compost annually to improve the percent organic matter and macronutrients in the soil and increase worm and other beneficial microbial populations. Some growers have come to rely completely on vermicompost for that reason. Others are applying fish meal, fish water, and other organically-certified fertilizers to improve their chemical, physical, and biological soil components. Growers in the Waikato region reported not to apply compost, however, because nutrient levels in that region are sufficient.

Other cultural practices which were discussed included managing shettlerbelts to prevent them as acting alternate hosts of pests and diseases, trunk girdling and how it could lead to poorer root health if employed year after year, and how proper pollination could improve fruit quality and size.

Organic Research

The Agriculture Research Group on Sustainability (ARGOS) began in October 2003 as an unincorporated joint venture project among Lincoln University, the University of Otago, and the Agribusiness Group Ltd. The purpose of ARGOS is to ‘examine the environmental, social and economic sustainability of New Zealand farming systems.’ What started off focusing on sheep and beef pasture land management, ARGOS has embarked on a ‘Pathways to Sustainability’ study which also includes investigations of kiwifruit, high country, dairy, and Maori land holdings management. The primary goal of the projects combined is to discover determinants of sustainability, regardless of the agriculture sector.

Before leaving New Zealand, I met with the program director of the ARGOS kiwifruit project, Jayson Benge. The kiwifruit study involves 36 privately-managed orchards, equally divided among Hayward orchards under integrated management, Hort16A under integrated management, and Hayward under organic management. The majority of these orchards are in the Bay of Plenty region, but a few reside near Kerikeri in the north and Moteuka on the South Island. Currently in its fourth year of study, the years prior have focused on collecting farm data past and present, with the goal of the next three years being to improve sustainability. Because the key difference between organic and integrated production is inputs, the project will investigate whether differences in soil and vine health occur and how yield and finances vary between the two. At the conclusion of the project, the aim is to have reduced the gap between the environmental impacts of organic and integrated production and to have developed clear means of transferring the findings to growers.

Transferring knowledge on sustainability has always been a difficult task, and that is because the term ‘sustainability’ has, at best, had varying definitions and means different things to different people. For these reasons, the ARGOS program is shifting its terminology to focus on a ‘Resilience Theory.’ Whereas ‘sustainability’ suggests system vulnerability, ‘resilience’ implies a system’s ability to withstand unintentional changes and thrive under intended ones. For example, a focus of ARGOS will be monitoring biodiversity – biodiversity of wildlife, endangered species, and even soil biota. Soil health, wetland and stream water quality, and beneficial insect populations will also be monitored. Through these projects, a primary goal is to improve land stewardship, and as a result, improve relations among land owners, environmental groups, and government bodies.

Concluding Remarks

Just as the ARGOS project has its base in scientific study yet includes a goal of strengthening relations among sectors of the population, at this – the conclusion of my year abroad under the support of the Dreer Fellowship – I believe that what I have learned and how I have grown goes beyond my scientific understanding of horticulture in other parts of the world. I also gained an appreciation for different peoples and cultures.

Take, for example, the grower survey that I conducted on Hort16A vine training systems. Through this project, I witnessed innovation in the field, and I tried my own hand at pruning kiwifruit vines. Nevertheless, an important element of the project was simply talking with growers. Aside from personal interviews, at the conclusion of the project, all participating growers were invited to a presentation, and an interesting discussion followed. We discussed how controlled research would be a good next step and what the growers planned to do in the future. The hesitations of growers were divulged in honest accounts unlike anything I have observed in the United States. Perhaps this stems from their one-marketer marketing system where information and profits are shared, or from the fact that this fruit bears their name, and Kiwi growers take great pride in their crop and want to see it thrive.

Speaking of pride, that is just how the Spanish view their olives and olive oil. Not only is there pride in the varieties they breed and their standards for quality oil, there is a cultural pride for this historic fruit. The tree, the fruit, and the oil – all influenced the settlement, religious establishment, and prosperity of the country. Today, it remains in the culture as a food staple and a livelihood for many families. From the past to the present, the olive is engraved into the history of Spain.

History also explains the winegrape in Chile’s culture. Introduced by Spanish missionaries, the dry climate of Chile’s central valley proved an optimal location for the crop, and when Chilean wine began competing with European wine, it was an omen for the future. Today, Chilean wine is not only enjoyed by its own people but also by people worldwide. Chilean winemakers have learned from the most prestigious of European and Californian producers but compete with them with their own high-quality, low-priced product.

And how does the culture of these crops relate to my overall objective of studying horticultural sustainability in these countries? Sustainability is not simply a focus on managing agriculture in such ways that is harmonious with the environment. Sustainability also includes a human element. A crop is not sustainable if it does not sustain the livelihoods of the people who grow it. After all, it is these people who steward the land. By growing a crop and making a living, these people respect that, in order for future successes to follow, they must care for the land. Sustainability might mean change in their methods over time, but it should not mean hindrance from the end goals. It is impossible to restore our environment to a pre-human existence, and there isn’t a place on the Earth which hasn’t been influenced by our touch, so it is important that we use our hands to continue molding and shaping. Sustainability, because it is a nebulous term, is something we will never completely attain, but with an understanding for its environmental and human components – in viewing man as part of nature – it is a goal toward which to keep striving. That is what I have learned this year….

References

Kerr, J., E. Hewett, and A. Aitken. 2005. “HortResearch Fresh Facts – New Zealand Horticulture” (brochure). ISSN 1177-2190. ISBN 0-477-10014-7. pp 1-33.

“Welcome to ARGOS” (website). 2004. ARGOS: Agriculture Research Group on Sustainability. Viewed September 2006. http://www.argos.org.nz.

Travels with Visitors

At the end of August, my two good friends from UC Davis – Sarah and Elisa – came to visit me. I played tour guide in this country which is not my own but which has become my home these last few months. We enjoyed local attractions – like Mount Maunganui and Papamoa Hills, and we ventured beyond so that they could understand the physical diversity of this island country. In Rotorua, we visited a wildlife park which showcased a variety of introduced species. New Zealand has myriad native birds but no native mammals, so visiting a wildlife park was a bit ironic but fun nonetheless. And since Rotorua is the center of geothermal activity, a trip was not complete without views of hot springs, geysers, and bubbling mud.

We also took a day and went up to the Coromandel Peninsula. I had not yet been to the Coromandel, touted for its beautiful beaches and off-the-beaten-path location. We tagged along with Garry from work, who needed to download temperature data from a kiwifruit orchard there. After about 30 minutes of “work,” we went to his family’s “batch.” Many Kiwis have vacation homes near the coast, and Garry and his family have one along Whangapoa Beach. It is a nice little community, made even nicer because it was desolate at this time of year. We ate our lunches and then went for a beach walk. Along the way, we came upon a stream. I rolled up my pants and forged my way across, but Sarah and Elisa – fearing the water would go waist high on them – got piggy back rides from Garry. I got pictures of this, but I will spare them the humiliation and not post them. We hopped across boulders and then scaled a cliff to a look out point. From there, turquoise waters met an immaculate beach. Back at ground level, native palms emerged from red soils, and sea shells littered the sand, assembling a collage.

After a few days, we packed up my car and left the Bay of Plenty. Our first destination was the West Coast – more specifically the Taranaki region – home of rugged surf, black sand beaches, and Mount Egmont National Park. We stayed in New Plymouth, a pleasant beach town with a pleasant climate. We walked through the town’s Pukekur
a Gardens and the Pukeiti Gardens just outside of town. Given the temperate climate, there is something in bloom in New Plymouth during all months of the year. With the onset of spring, we were fortunate to catch vibrant rhododendrons, azaleas, and camellias. Unfortunately, the weather was not quite as vibrant, so our only glimpse of Mount Egmont was leaving town, peering behind us to see the peak edge its way above the clouds. Despite the lack-luster mountain view, the countryside was pastorally breathtaking. To our right were the ebony beaches, and to our left were verdant pastures where dairy cattle grazed the lush vegetation. Egmont erupts from these level grounds, and in fact, it is famous for being the closest volcano to the sea. I found the region of Taranaki especially beautiful, perhaps one of the most beautiful of all that I had seen in New Zealand. It exuded such a sense of peace.

From there, we traveled down to Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city. I had heard many nice things about Wellington – its museums, its sites, its cultural scene – and I discovered all the praise to be true. Wellington is an exciting city without being daunting. Contained by hills and harbor, the city is limited in expanse. The downtown area is compact and pedestrian friendly. We visited Te Papa museum, the national museum whose name means “Our Place” in the Maori tongue. Modern and interactive, the multi-level museum displays the natural features of New Zealand – from sea to volcano to mountain – and describes the forces of Mother Nature that brought these features to be. Earthquake, fire, tsunami – all have influenced the physical features of New Zealand. But, another force that has shaped this isolated country is the force of man. Once covered almost entirely with native bush, only a fraction of this forest now exists. Displays outline how Maori and European settlement, introduction of foreign flora and fauna, and adaptation of the land to agricultural use has transformed the islands into essentially grasslands. It was interesting to observe these displays with an “outsider’s” perspective, as we generally perceived New Zealand’s vast greenery as idyllic, not alarming.

And while in Wellington, one must do a couple of touristy things. We took the cable car up to the botanic garden, where spring wasn’t quite as advanced as it was in Taranaki, but where we still enjoyed fragrant gardens, evergreens, and newly emerged tulips. We also took a tour of the Parliament and “Beehive” executive buildings. The Parliament building is made completely of New Zealand granite. We sat within a committee meeting room adorned in Maori design. The juxtaposition of European and Maori styles made the structure unique. Artwork illustrated moments in New Zealand history, and a glass case humbly displayed a New Zealand flag that was recovered from the World Trade Center. Our tour guide was very informative, but with his first sentence, I turned to Sarah and said, “I think he’s American.” Sure enough, after the tour, I learned that, indeed, he was, and a native Californian, too. After the tour, we had the opportunity to sit in on a Parliamentary session, and a boisterous session it was. There are eight political parties in New Zealand, and the topics of discussion for the day were chiefly poignant for the dominating National and Labour parties. Not particularly concerned with the agenda, I found the whole experience quite humorous with loud chiding and interruption. When we had heard enough arguing, we visited the Parliamentary library – a neo-Gothic building resembling a cathedral. Its pious appearance was not by mistake, as Queen Victoria once described libraries as ‘cathedrals of knowledge,’ and hence, the design was made. We also went to the National Cathedral itself, which aside from the frontal crucifix, looked less like a church than the neighboring library. And of course, for me, a trip to a new place would not be complete without running to the top of a mountain, so the lookout point atop Mount Victoria was also one of my destinations.

On the drive back to the Bay of Plenty, along the Desert Road of Tongoriro National Park, clear, blue skies made the snow-laden mountains glisten. This snow melts and drains into Lake Taupo – New Zealand’s largest lake – which feeds the Waikato River – the country’s longest. I stopped at Huka Falls to see the rushing waters, which were as blue as the sky.

To see pictures, go to my Shutterfly website.