Bikes!

My new bike project, a 1970's Steyr-Daimler/Puch.



My Old refurbished 1981 Schwinn Caliente, the "Schwinn Goose:"



Inspiration for the Schwinn Goose:

My Mormor, touring in Europe in the 40's!

May Day and First Harvest Recipes

Anyone who lives in Minneapolis should know a thing or two about May Day, but for my far-flung friends who may be reading this, let me give you a brief description (I apologize - I didn't take any pictures this year). Every year around the first of May, 70,000 people from all walks of life turn out for the parade and festival in the Powderhorn neighborhood of South Minneapolis, which is put on by Heart of the Beast Puppet Theater. Heart of the Beast is well-known for their incredible floats and giant puppets constructed entirely from trash and reclaimed material, made by hundreds of volunteers. While they put on an AMAZING Halloween show every year, they're probably best-known for their May Day parade (the biggest in the country!), which involves an awe-inspiring number of people-powered floats, art bikes, masked children, and musicians. It's a spectacle that weaves threads of political activism, tolerance, and good old fashioned Pagan values into a cloth that any aging hippie would be happy to make a poncho out of. Sometimes the metaphors can be hard to decipher, but there's always a moment or two that manages to bring my heart into my throat. One year, it was a long-haired boy on stilts pouring a fistful of seeds into my hands. This year, it was the roar of the crowd building as they rowed a canoe with a giant, flaming sun to where we waited on the shore. Why, do you ask, would this mean so much to me?

May Day, or Beltane as it was traditionally known, is a Pagan celebration honoring the return of the fertile half of the year. In Ireland, this (warning, nudity and fire is involved) is what they do, which is considerably more exciting than anything we have here, but in Minneapolis, May Day has a special meaning - the parade is the first big, outdoor celebration that brings everyone out of the woodwork and into the streets, and there's always this sense of deep camaraderie that pervades over everything else. It's a sense of, "We put up with months of the nastiest weather seen in any American city for this -- good people, great events, amazing bike trails, and flowers everywhere!" When they carry that giant, papier mache sun across the lake in Powderhorn Park every year, it basically signals the triumph of light over dark and the passage of yet another winter.

Everything in the garden is growing well, in spite of a powerful little cold-snap that brought us sleety snow only a night ago. My tomatoes are outgrowing their setup in my kitchen and I'm anxiously awaiting a stretch of warm days so I can start to put them outside. After the purple leaf scare I repotted them and gave them a light feeding of some stinky organic stuff called "Mater Magic." They've since shot out in all directions and are full-fledged "plants" now rather than "seedlings." I'm preparing to give the peppers the same treatment and I'm hoping they'll thicken up a bit when they have more room to stretch their roots. My alpine strawberries are looking cute and are unstoppable now that they're potted up. During their hardening-off stage, they've taken considerable abuse from the wind and rain and rapid temperature changes, and I fully expect them to thrive when I can finally plant them out. I read that, having been started early, they might fruit the first year. Our standard-sized strawberries (purchased as plants from Home Depot) already have a few green fruits. It's been so long since I've had a fresh strawberry... I'm watching those little plants pretty closely!


Today we celebrated our first "harvest," working together to bake up a delicious rhubarb crisp (recipe courtesy of Penzey's Spices), boiled dandelion greens, some amazing tempeh burgers, and a single morel mushroom I found growing under the tree by my patio. We were so impressed by the size of the rhubarb leaves we decided they'd make lovely hats, which we wore throughout the entire cooking process!


The Leafy Bonnet Rhubarb Buckle Recipe

4 cups chopped rhubarb
1 cup flour
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup oatmeal (old-fashioned or quick, NOT instant)
1 generous tsp. cinnamon
1 stick butter, melted

1 cup white sugar
1 cup water
3 Tbls. cornstarch
1 tsp. vanilla

Preheat oven to 350° F.
Grease an 8″x8″ baking pan or 9″ pie plate.

In a medium bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, oatmeal, cinnamon, and melted butter. Mix together with fork or fingers until it forms crumbs. Press half this mixture into the greased baking pan for the crust. Spread the chopped rhubarb evenly on top.

In a small saucepan, combine the white sugar, water and cornstarch. Cook over medium heat until it forms a clear syrup, stirring frequently, about 4-6 minutes. Add the vanilla, stir, then spread over the rhubarb and crust. Cover with the remaining oatmeal mixture.

Bake at 350° for 55 min. to 1 hour. (until rhubarb is bubbling and topping is nicely browned). Take it out of the oven and look as pleased with yourself as I do here.

Another great recipe that takes advantage of an early-maturing herb is chicken-in-a-biscuit -- vegetarian style, of course! My mother used to make this recipe when I was growing up and it's still a fun and easy comfort food.

Chickenless Chicken-in-a-Biscuit

2 packets neufchatel cheese, softened to room temperature
4 veggie chicken filets (I use Quorn naked cutlets) or 4 boiled chicken breasts, chopped
1 small bunch chives, minced (I usually use about the equivalent to 1/2 serving of spaghetti noodles - I have problem with measuring after they're all minced!)
2 tubes refrigerated crescent rolls
Salt and fresh-ground pepper, to taste

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees or according to the directions on the crescent roll package.

In a medium-sized mixing bowl, combine cheese, chicken, and chives. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Roll out the dough and separate into rectangles (2 crescent rolls), placing onto well-greased baking sheets and pinching together the perforations where necessary. Spoon filling evenly among the eight rectangles of dough and join the sides to form neat little pockets. Pinch the seams closed. They can also be frozen like this ahead of time to be baked when needed. If you want to add some extra calories, you can brush the tops with melted butter.

Bake for 20 minutes or until the outsides of the biscuits are golden brown and flaky.

Trial & Error

"Spring break" is over and it's back to the daily grind at school -- if you can call it that! I'm taking a light course-load in hopes of catching up on the more "practical" side of my education. So far, each trimester I've loaded myself up with as many credit hours as I think I can possibly handle, and as a result I feel like I've definitely set myself up to graduate way ahead of schedule. However, the time that I've spent observing the doctors in clinic, making herbal formulas, or actually sticking needles in people, is negligible by comparison. My goal is to start seeing my own patients in the fall, and I want to be as comfortable with my technique as I can before I find myself face-to-face with a stranger in a blue gown trying to figure out what I'm going to do next!


Spring in Minneapolis continues to be beautiful. Each day imparts its own tiny miracles; each day I enjoy the products of sunshine, rain, and the rich black soil that this part of the country is famous for. Observing the yards on my block (like my neighbors' above) is like watching a slow-motion fireworks display; one week, it's the tulips bursting into bloom, then the magnolia trees with their papery blossoms, and the crab apples, sour cherries, and finally the lilacs, making the whole neighborhood a heavenly-scented landscape of pastels. I can't even get over it; I think we Minnesotans appreciate it doubly because winter is so drab and miserably cold. That first day it stays above forty degrees we're out on our bikes, hot on the trail of the first robin of the season.

Our garden is actually starting to look like a garden! The peas are about six inches high, and the first batch of seedlings I started indoors were planted out on April 15th. So far, I haven't lost one! The leafy brassicas lead the pack: kale, spinach, lettuce, and radishes are in the ground, and will be keeping us in salads for the next few months to come. The carrots are coming up, trying to gain a foothold among the weeds. On May 1st, the next batch of babies will have their turn. Creeping thyme, echinacea (which haven't been doing much since the hardening-off phase began... I'm hoping they're putting their efforts into growing some good roots rather than just dying slowly), sweet alyssum (my first plants to bloom!), and spearmint are next, along with some seeds.


Meanwhile, under the growlight, my tomatoes and peppers are doing their best to recover from my first (noticeable) newbie gardener mistake. Amidst all my efforts to provide the adequate balance of light and moisture, I somehow overlooked the fact that a plant's gotta eat something. When I potted up all of my tomato guys, I put them in the same seed-starting mix that I'd planted the seeds in to begin with. At first they were happy. Then I noticed they were starting to turn purple. I thought it was sort of pretty, until the purple progressed into a much sadder yellow, and finally an alarming black on the tips of their leaves. I looked into the problem on GardenWeb and found out that purpling means they're not getting enough phosphorus. It's not a very common problem because most gardeners know enough to realize that growing plants need nutrients, and pot them up in garden soil, or compost. I promptly repotted them in a mix of potting soil and regular dirt from the yard, and now I'm watching them change back to a nice shade of green.


Gardening, like life, is a process of trial-and-error. No matter how much you read or how much advice you seek, you still have to make your own mistakes and find your own way. So far I've learned:

- You can never have enough room under the grow lights. Therefore, grow only what you really want! Some plants are not really worth all the effort because it's easy to buy satisfactory varieties at garden stores at a relatively low cost. Seeds worth starting indoors are things you can't find anywhere else: rare varieties, medicinal herbs, and plants where only organic will do. I'm glad that I'm growing "Rugen" Alpine Strawberries and horehound inside, since I can't find them anywhere, but in retrospect I wish I'd sought out some more exciting pepper and squash varieties since I think I could pretty easily find the same one's I'm growing at any Home Depot.

- Indoors is no substitute for out. Even the best indoor conditions are likely to yield seedlings slightly inferior to those started outside, as nature intended. The grow lights seem bright, but one or two little bulbs are nothing compared to the natural light of the sun. Seedlings started inside also tend to get crowded and pot-bound, and stressed from all the moving and fussing they are often subjected to.

- Don't mollycoddle your seedlings too much. Every day I try to prepare them for the conditions they'll be facing when they're actually outdoors. I start hardening them off way before most books have told me I'm supposed to - exposing them to the elements a little at a time - so that they're fully acclimated by the time I'm ready to plant them in the ground. I also read that it's a good idea to shake, flick, or otherwise harass your growing seedlings to mimic the movement of the wind. My tomatoes - purple leaves and all - are growing really thick and stocky stems as a result of this treatment. They're going to be good little fruit-producing soldiers when they get out into the garden!

Me and an alpine strawberry seedling!

Ostara, Easter, and Engagement!

What a wonderful spring it's been! I could not be happier with the weather, my neighborhood, or the miraculous way things have unfolded, both in the garden and in my life. My pea plants have been emerging, poking through the soil beneath their little make-shift cloches cut from salvaged two-liter bottles. Their neighbors the carrots -- at least, I think they're carrots -- are popping up, along with some kale seedlings, while indoors, everything under the grow lights is absolutely -thriving- ... except the lungwort and shiso, but I'm trying not to give up on them yet. I just transplanted some of the kale and lettuce I started inside into their own pots, and divided the tomatoes. It's always hard to decide which seedlings are the fittest and which ones get pinched. It makes me feel guilty, snuffing out that little baby plant life when it struggled so hard to pop out of that seed! I've been saving some of the best seedlings I had to pinch, pressed between the pages of my giant copy of "Guide to Country Living." I'm hoping to make a great gardening journal to document all of my experiments and then I'll glue some of those failed seedlings inside.


So if the recent explosive popularity of fantasy and comic book-inspired movies is any indication, I'm not the only one craving a little magic in this era where dealers of technology are constantly waving the latest imagination-crushing gadget in our face, trying to tempt us with promises that we can "watch YouTube on a horse." Man. If I have anything you could call a religion, I can safely say that watching YouTube on a horse, while riding on a beautiful beach for God's Sake, would be a mortal sin. But anyway, in this world of iThis and Twitter-that, I find it nice to practice the old rituals that our ancestors have observed for thousands of years. Ostara is one of my favorites. Falling on the Spring Equinox, it's a fertility festival in the purest sense, a celebration of the returning light in which the dark half of the year gives way to the time of planting and growth. In pre-Christian times, the ancient Europeans would celebrate the rebirth of the sun god, who dies every year at the end of the harvest season only to be born again with the return of Spring. It's probably more than just a happy coincidence that the sun god of Ostara (which should be sounding a lot like "Easter" to you by now, both in name and tone) should happen to share a rebirthday with Jesus Christ; after all, it's a good time of the year to be reborn. We are reminded that just as the Earth itself "dies" in winter and is "reborn" in the spring, birth and death are not permanent conditions but merely part of a larger continuum that we can't completely understand. My favorite Buddhist author, Thich Nhat Hanh, comes close to describing the mystery in his typically simple/beautiful fashion:
"One day as I was about to step on a dry leaf, I saw the leaf in the ultimate dimension. I saw that it was not really dead, but it was merging with the moist soil and preparing to appear on the tree the following spring in another form. I smiled at the leaf and said, 'You are pretending.'"
This past weekend, we celebrated the Easter side of things at Travis' parents' house in South Dakota. There was a delicious strawberry-spinach salad and the best damn veggie korma I've ever made, followed by a surprise marriage proposal! It was a surprise even for me (Yes -- I was the one who did the asking!) at Rumors, in Madison, while Travis' friends' band, The Coltcockers, were playing. Many of Travis' friends were in attendance, back in their hometown to celebrate the holiday, and the mood just seemed strangely perfect. I yelled, "We should get married!" over the music, and Travis responded with something to the effect of, "There's a microphone right there. Why don't you ask me for real?" And the next thing I knew, I was on the stage, asking him, blurting out something in front of everyone about how much I loved him blah blah blah... I don't remember the details because I was pretty much overcome with a deep and terrifying sense of, "Oh God, what am I doing!?" But he said yes. And even though it wasn't planned, it didn't involve a trip to any exotic destination or even a ring, I feel like it was very much in keeping with how we like to live (spontaneously) and how much we love our friends and our family.
We're engaged! And not very photogenic, apparently.

The Garden Begins!

Last weekend, we celebrated the unseasonably warm weather by starting work on our garden. I've pretty much given up on the idea of forest gardening at my own apartment; the space we have to work with is extremely small and barely gets any sunlight during the day. What little gardening I do at home will probably be purely aesthetic in nature. However, we're lucky enough to have two of our best friends -- Julie and Tony -- living a mere six blocks away from us, and they have a huge, gorgeous space for gardening that they've generously offered to share. As we've been working on getting it tilled and laid-out, curious neighbors have all come out of the woodwork to give their two cents, and all seem happy that we're returning the space to its former glory. We had mentioned that the soil is unusually rich (especially for the middle of a city lot!) and one neighbor told us that, years ago, the whole neighborhood was an apple orchard. Really though, this is amazing soil. It looks better than the bagged stuff we've been bringing in! The weeds sure have been loving it. Common mallow has pretty much taken over the entire back yard, and some of the suckers have been a real challenge to pull up. I'm sure that we'll be in for quite a battle as the weather continues to get warmer.

So, since Julie and I each have a different gardening focus this year, our garden is going to be dual-purpose; Julie is working on growing culinary and medicinal herbals, and I'm growing mostly vegetables -- which is sort of backwards, considering I'm the one going to school for Acupuncture and Herbal Medicine! My goal is to test out different growing techniques on a small scale. Some things I'd like to try:

- Companion planting

- Succession planting

- Natural fertilizers

- Growing native plants to attract pollinators

Here are some of our veggies, herbs and flowers, growing happily under the growlights.

I initially tried to use all-natural materials (in this case, peat pots) rather than flats made of plastic, but Julie's seedlings seemed to be thriving better than mine in a Burpee grow system, so I bought one of those when it went on sale. Here's Julie's flat of seedlings. The zucchini are getting a little leggy and out of control...

I also have an interest in putting our plants to use in more than just salads -- not that I don't love a good caprese salad on a hot day. Some things I'd like to try:

- Herbal remedies (both based on TCM principles and my own hodgepodge of collected knowledge). For instance, I really want to make my own horehound cough syrup and lozenges, but rather than the usual recipes that include only horehound and sweetener, I want to include some Chinese herbs, like balloon flower and astragalus.

- Herb-infused vodkas and vinegars. A place in town makes a mean basil vodka martini. I will definitely be trying to make my own basil vodka

- Herbal Teas (This is more Julie's area of interest than mine)

- Plant-based dyes

I'll be sure to share all of my successes (and failures!) as the summer comes and goes. Here's a picture of our garden, all laid out and ready to go:

We've been creating our stepping stones from salvaged pieces of paving material from around the neighborhood, and the pea pyramids are from tree prunings. I think they have a very nice Blair Witch sort of feeling.

Herbs in Focus : Ma Huang (Ephedra)

After finishing my third and final class on Traditional Chinese Herbology (I've since moved on to Herbal Formulas this term!), I decided that I should compile and share what I have learned with other TCM students in a format that is more accessible and conversational than the typical Materia Medica textbook. I love learning about herbs, and I feel that it's a pity that the focus of the typical TCM herbology class is limited to their use in Traditional Chinese Medicine. We rarely have an opportunity to explore their history, modern research, or their use in Western alternative medicine. I for one have found it enormously helpful to learn as much as I can about each herb, including its "common" (ie: English) name, where it comes from, how it grows... The better acquainted we become with each herb, the better chance we will have of knowing when it's appropriate to prescribe it to our patients.

We sometimes talk at length about herbs that are completely inaccessible for one reason or another, such as expense, lack of availability in the US, or issues involving legality. For instance, even if Xi Jiao (Rhinoceros Horn) is a miracle cure, I'm not going to subscribe it to my patients for obvious reasons. In cases such as this, it's necessary to find a comparable substitute. However, there are other herbs whose legal status is a bit more ambiguous, due to side effects or potential for misuse. Ma Huang, the first herb that I want to write about, is a borderline-illegal herb for which there is no substitute. Because of its history of abuse in this country, its sale is heavily regulated, though it can still be purchased in its "raw" form.


Ma Huang, or Ephedra Sinica, is a bushy shrub with distinctive, needle-like branches that extend upwards, giving it the appearance of land-dwelling coral. It is native to the cool, arid regions of West-Central China, Japan, and Southern Steppes of Siberia, and its history as a medicinal herb within these regions dates back thousands of years. Though it bears no edible fruit or showy flowers and is decidedly "un-lush" in appearance, ancient people far more daring than I boiled it into a tea and discovered that it had some very interesting effects. Ephedra, like caffeine, is a stimulant. By triggering the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, it kicks the body into "fight or flight" mode -- the blood vessels constrict (leading to elevated blood pressure and heart rate), the bronchioles dilate, and one is overcome with a sense of mental alertness and enhanced vitality. It was these effects, combined with the fact that Ma Huang can suppress the appetite, that led to its brief stint as a popular "dietary supplement" and "performance enhancer" in the US. However, its unpleasant tendency to cause seizures, heart attack, stroke and death when taken without great care led to the negative stigma and ensuing legal issues that surround it today.


However, the ancient Chinese, in their wisdom, recognized that the body is not intended to be kept in a state of hyper-alertness for any extended period of time. Instead, they focused on Ma Huang's ability to open the lungs and increase body temperature, two features that make it indispensable for fighting the common cold. Taken for this purpose, it invigorates the body's natural defenses, quells cough, and induces sweating, which is thought to "break" a fever and shorten the duration of illness.

For those of you who practice TCM, you probably already know that it is the main herb for treating exterior pattern of wind-cold type. It is warm and pungent, and expels cold pathogens by inducing sweating. It also facilitates the flow of Lung Qi to treat such symptoms as cough, dyspnea, and shortness of breath, whether due to external pathogens or asthma. It is in several effective formulas for wind-cold and various lung patterns, including Ma Huang Tang (for wind-cold), Ma Huang Xi Xin Fu Zi Tang (for wind-cold with internal yang deficiency), and Ma Xing Shi Gan Tang (wind-heat entering the Lung, i.e. pneumonia).


Recently, Julie bought some ephedra seeds online and we're going to try to grow our own supply. I don't know what to expect; I know that, once established, it is an exceptionally hardy plant, able to withstand very dry conditions, poor soil, and temperatures lower than -20 degees F. But unfortunately, I have no idea how to grow it from seed. I will be looking for resources online and will update as I learn more.

One day at a time...

Suffering is caused by desire. I know in my heart that this is true, and yet, so much of my mental energy is devoted to pining after the things I want. I want to escape the city, to live in contact with nature, to grow things and connect to the earth. Of course, this is different than longing for money and material things, but the effect is the same: I am in a constant state of dissatisfaction with my every-day life. The reality of the situation is that, like it or not, I will have to live in or near Minneapolis until I finish grad school. Until recently I’d resigned myself to the fact that I would have to just suffer through these next few years, to stumble through them in a state of bleary-eyed longing, jealous of anyone who is already living the life I’m wishing for. But I’ve come to my senses and now I’m determined to make the best of this time, to remember that it is often the journey, not the destination, the defines your life. I’ve already struggled so hard to get this far. Why shouldn’t I enjoy it?

I’ve been reading up on the concept of Urban Homesteading: the idea that it is possible to live semi-sustainably in the city. What I’ve read so far has helped me realize that there are changes I can make today that will reduce my negative impact on the earth, and it’s no use waiting until I finally get my acreage in the country to do things the right way. I’ve been talking to my boyfriend about finding a cute place in a more residential area where we can have a garden and maybe even some chickens. In the meantime, I’m making the most of these long summer days in the city. My new bike is finished and I’m taking advantage of Minneapolis’ nationally-renowned commuter paths and greenways whenever possible. I’m going out to shows and parties, barbecues and bars, visiting bookstores and herbal pharmacies and enjoying the company of so many people I’m truly lucky to know.

I read somewhere that the trick to achieving enlightenment is understanding that you’re already living in Nirvana, and it’s the barriers we’ve built around ourselves that keep us from perceiving it. The problem with most people is that they keep blindly climbing mountains when they have only to look around them and see they have already reached the summit. I’m reminded again of one of my favorite allegorical drawings (and the next tattoo I want to get). A white stag stands shackled, gazing wistfully at the stars, unaware that his chains are not connected to anything and he could in fact leap away at any time. It is his perceptions that keep him bound to the spot, unable to reach potential happiness. Like the stag (a symbol of purity and spiritual impeccability), we are born free, but as we grow and learn, our shackle gets heavier, our chain gets longer, and eventually we find ourselves connected to a heavy (albeit imaginary) burden that we must drag with us everywhere. I’m feeling this burden lately, the burden of ideals that keeps me from realizing I am already happy, that my life is already perfect.

I’m fighting hard with myself to keep that in mind every day this summer.