All the Trails

We’ve always been a family of hikers and walkers, but since the pandemic began, our daily excursions have become quite sacred to us, whether in our neighborhood (blessed by many regional open spaces with great hilly walks) or in the greater Bay Area. We have been using an app called Gaia in the last year, which records our walks, and also shows us the many trails we have yet to travel (the free version is great). This has allowed us to find trails that we didn’t even know existed, and especially on weekends, we tend to go further afield to find new favorites.

One thing that has become so clear to us is that the Bay Area is littered with extensive trail systems, some maintained by local park systems, and some by state parks or even national parks. These are all non-profit groups, often dependent on volunteers to establish or maintain trails. We are so thankful for all of these organizations, and all the people, who make this kind of recreation possible.

We have long been supporters of East Bay Regional Parks. Many of these parks are free to enter, but supporting them by purchasing an annual pass is great. Individual memberships run $60 for a year (the price of three movies, or 10 fancy coffees). A family membership is $105. The wonderful thing about EBRP is that they have an extensive system which includes urban trails and parks, as well as more suburban parks. This promotes equity in the outdoors and makes these open spaces accessible to everyone, which is something that is really necessary.

EBRP also oversees two of the longer, linked trail systems we often find ourselves using. The California Riding and Hiking Trail is mainly a Contra Costa County trail system that links Mt. Diablo with Martinez, and will encompass 16 miles of trail. The Martinez-Concord section is already completed and will link to Mt. Diablo State Park in the future. The East Bay Skyline National Trail is part of the 1968 National Trail Systems Act. It begins at the Alvarado staging area in Richmond, and ends at the Proctor Gate station in Anthony Chabot regional park. We’ve hiked most of both of these trails and have found them quite interesting.

Other local trail systems include the scenic San Francisco Bay Trail, which is a planned 500 mile walking and cycling path around the entire bay, going through all nine counties, 47 cities, and seven major bridges. 350 miles are already in place. This project is also restoring wetlands around the Bay. They have a really cool navigational map that shows existing trails (whether paved or dirt) and planned trails. We’ve walked much of this trail system, too, including two bridges, and always enjoy these walks on days when it’s prohibitively hot in our neighborhood and we need the cooling influence of the Bay. The Bay trails are often flat, as well, offering an easier but longer walk, and there is always good wildlife viewing with shorebirds.

The Bay Area Ridge Trail, however, offers a completely different kind of hiking experience, taking walkers over the peaks that ring the Bay. This trail was the vision of William Penn Mott, Jr, who was Director of our National Park Service as well as EBRP and California State Parks. He wanted a 550 mile trail encircling the ridges of the Bay Area. 393 miles of trail have been established and they are all great, challenging miles! They have some neat trail maps and tools which include ‘curated’ trail adventures such as wheelchair accessible loops, or training ridge to bridge trails for those who want a challenge.

There is an interesting state trail system that we are just recently learning more about. This is the Mokelumne Coast-to-Crest Trail, which is planned to go all the way from the Bay to Yosemite. Currently three sections are complete: the East Bay/Contra Costa County section, the Camanche-Pardee Reservoir section, and the Upper Mokelumne River Canyon section. We have been on the Contra Costa section many times, as it winds through and over Mt. Diablo, Black Diamond, and Contra Loma parks. We are hoping to eventually get to the sections east of here and explore those, as well.

There are two interesting interstate trails here, one being (of course!) the Pacific Crest Trail, which runs from the Mexican border to the Canadian border, through California, Oregon, and Washington. We have been on a very short section of this trail when hiking in Yosemite, but other than that, this trail has been beyond our reach, as it runs through the interior mountain ranges and is primarily in wilderness. It has long been a dream of mine to hike this trail, and maybe we’ll have more time in the future to section hike portions of it, at least.

Another interstate trail which I have just recently discovered is the Juan Bautista de Anza trail, which is part of the National Park System and is a National Historic Trail. It runs through Arizona and California, following Juan Bautista de Anza’s route in 1775 as he established (colonized?) a settlement in San Francisco bay. I don’t know how much we should be celebrating the takeover of land from California Native Americans, but while we don’t need to honor questionable historic activity, we should certainly learn about it and face the truth of it, and what better way to do that then to walk those same paths?

The final trail that I want to bring to your attention is the American Discovery Trail, which runs from the West Coast to the East Coast, 6800+ miles of continuous multi-use track. It does run on some roads, but the organization is working to make the trail completely off-road in the future. It is not a wilderness trail, like the Pacific Crest Trail. It passes through cities, towns, farmland, and wild areas. It is meant to be a voyage of discovery of our country as a whole. On the website, you can find the trails in your state (if it passes through your state); the California portion starts in Pt. Reyes National Seashore, and goes right over Mt. Diablo, over to Lake Tahoe, so we’ve found ourselves on this trail many times.

We are lucky to live in the San Francisco Bay Area, a place that celebrates outdoor living year-round. That doesn’t mean the conditions are always idyllic (see my previous post), but it does mean that we are provided with a lot of opportunity to get out into nature, and explore. We have come to realize that this is extremely important to us, and it will dictate how we move forward into retirement (which isn’t happening anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean we don’t think about it). We don’t necessarily see ourselves living in California forever, but we do want to live in a place that offers a lot of outdoor recreation, no matter the season. That might mean that we need to get good at snowshoeing! But that’s years in the future, anyway. Right now, we are just happy to have plenty of adventures located right outside our front door.

PS: If you like to hike and get outdoors, and you’re looking for a new adventure, let me know - Tom and I have plenty of suggestions for great walks all over the Bay Area!

Particularly Now

Lately several people have asked me, are you finding it particularly good to have a garden/homestead right now, with all that’s going on? Its a valid question, as we all try to stay away from crowded places like the grocery store. Even though Farmers’ Markets are outdoors, they are often crowded and many people are touching the produce before selecting what they want (though I’ve heard stories about local markets changing their practices so that doesn’t happen). Our favorite local pastured meat CSAs has had to put a moratorium on new orders for the time being, because so many people want to get their meat delivered. I imagine CSA veg box companies are likewise having a run on subscriptions. (On a side note, I’m so happy that this virus is causing folks to reach out to local farms!)

After the greenhouse dance this morning (moving the seedlings out of the greenhouse in the morning, and back in the greenhouse at night), I spent some time looking around at our crops and determining how I want to play it in the next month of so. An inventory, so to speak: What are we running out of, what will come ripe soon, and what will planting the summer garden do to those crops? I can see that things are going to be lean very soon. We’re reaching that thing called the ‘Hungry Gap,’ which in modern times isn’t the crisis it used to be, since normally we have plenty of everything at the store. But right now, with supply chains the way they are, who knows?

We’re out of broccoli and cauliflower. We are down to the last four cabbages. Nearly all the carrots are gone. We still have plenty of kale, chard, beets, and peas. The garlic and shallots won’t be ready to harvest for a couple of months yet. The parsnips and turnips should ripen in the next couple of weeks, and leeks are on the same schedule. Lettuce seedlings are still quite small, so it’ll be a couple of weeks before we can start eating them.

We’re getting 5-6 eggs a day, which is terrific since every time I go to the grocery I notice that the shelves are empty of eggs. I've been able to share a bunch with friends, family, and neighbors, and soon I will start freezing them (out of the shell, in packages of two) for the times when we are low.

The summer seedlings will be happy to go in the ground in the next few weeks, and it’s a hard thing to determine just when to do that. I usually wait until May 1, but with things the way they are, I might like to get going on that sooner (if only to put it on my ‘to-do’ list which I would love, being low on things to do right now).

Which brings us back to the original question.

Yes! Of course it’s great to have this bounty at our fingertips in times of scarcity; but honestly it’s ALWAYS great. I like to keep up with a homesteader in Tennessee who yesterday posted a video called “NOW the mocking of homesteaders will stop!” I’ve never felt mocked for growing our food, but that’s because even in the sophisticated, tech-rich Bay Area, we’ve always had the back-to-the-landers, and while we often get eye rolls, we are also looked at fondly, as one would look at a slightly ragged pet. I’m imagining right now a lot of people are looking at the practice more favorably. But as I’ve said for years, this is a great thing to do in ANY time and ANY climate. The benefits are huge - for our bodies, for our mental health, and for the earth.

And it’s not hard or expensive to do. You might have a little sunny, protected corner where you could grow a quick crop of radishes and lettuces. It doesn’t have to be an expensive project. Dig some old cardboard out of your recycling bin, make sure it’s free of tape or labels, and cover your patch of ground. Go to the hardware store (still open!) and get a couple of bags of the best dirt you can find - compost based, peat free, fertilizer free (not that brand that puts all kind of synthetic fertilizers in their dirt - you don’t need all that, just a little compost). Spread the dirt 2-6 inches over the cardboard, and put some seeds in it. If you need seeds, let me know - I have a few left and would be happy to mail them to you. Or order a few from a reputable seed house near you (I have several in my recommendations). Or ask your neighbors! If you live in an area that still has cold weather, you could start some things indoors. If you live in my neighborhood, I have several indoor light setups (with heat mats) that aren’t being used right now and I would be happy to lend them to you, if you want to try tomatoes and peppers. I promise we can stay six feet apart while we make the transfer.

Just having a project right now is a healthy thing. Doing this with kids would be even better (science and math included). Getting outdoors is really important for physical and mental health, and having a reason to go outdoors and putter is great. How about planting a little fruit tree in a big pot? How about making a little strawberry patch in a container? How about starting some herb seeds in little pots in your kitchen windowsill? These are all things you could do right now that will increase your joy in life, I guarantee it.

Particularly now, when the virus is ramping up in the states, and several cities seem to be under siege, protecting our mental and physical well-being is very important, and this is one way we can do it. And, if you live near here, and you can’t have a garden of your own, please reach out to me - Poppy Corners can be your refuge, too.

Essential Services

Our neighborhood is fairly tight-knit. This is a wonderful thing always, but especially so now. I started to see a flag or two going up in front of houses this past weekend, and I loved the idea, so I put ours out too. Slowly other houses are following suit. What more appropriate time to fly the flag of this great country of ours?

I’ve heard lots of stories of other neighborhoods, too - Little Free Libraries are being filled with toilet paper and canned goods, spontaneous neighborhood musical interludes are happening in the street. I cannot believe the amount of new-to-me people walking by the yard when I’m working outside. Folks seem hungry to get outdoors, to get some fresh air, to get some exercise, to get away from the screens. A couple of kids I’ve never seen before zoomed by on bikes, the youngest hollering “I love your garden!” What kid says that, in normal times?

Neighbors call or write, asking if we need anything. Old friends start group texts. Tom’s family has instituted a weekly Zoom session to keep in touch. I speak to friends on the phone for hours, something I haven’t done since high school.

Classmates (online) seem friendlier. We help each other out, sharing materials we’ve missed somehow. The kids’ principal has started sending video updates instead of emails. Some of the kids’ teachers are making very entertaining online learning videos. My neighbor who teaches first grade has made videos of herself reading books, stopping at appropriate places and saying, “Ok, what do YOU think happens next? Write that in your journal!” I’m amazed by the creativity of teachers and friends and families.

Who knew, in this disconnected world, that these are all still essential services?

Nature, too - essential. I’ve somehow gotten connected with a group on twitter called @gardenshour, in the UK. Every Monday at 2 pm Pacific Time (is that 10 pm in England?), gardeners share something interesting, a new bloom or a pile of manure, a hawk getting into a chicken coop, or a greenhouse getting ready for planting. I’ve come to really appreciate that hour.

The parks and open spaces and national seashores around here were packed this weekend, causing some to close. This is a shame, because the interest to be outdoors and in nature has completely revitalized. Somehow we have to strike a balance between isolation and the ability to get outdoors.

Speaking of essential, is anyone else appreciating their spouses in a new way? It’s a very strange thing to hear your partner in ‘work’ mode. I am so amazed by how many plates Tom has spinning and how downright cheerful he is anyway. He never sounds panicked or stressed. Focused, yes. I’ve found I like overhearing his work calls and meetings.

This morning our local paper (SF Chronicle) published a poem by a local poet, Jane Hirshfield., about sheltering-in-place. I loved it, and so I’ve included it here.

“Today, when I could do nothing,
I saved an ant.

It must have come in with the morning paper,
still being delivered
to those who shelter in place.

A morning paper is still an essential service.

I am not an essential service.

I have coffee and books,
time,
a garden,
silence enough to fill cisterns.

It must have first walked
the morning paper, as if loosened ink
taking the shape of an ant.

Then across the laptop computer — warm —
then onto the back of a cushion.

Small black ant, alone,
crossing a navy cushion,
moving steadily because that is what it could do.

Set outside in the sun,
it could not have found again its nest.
What then did I save?

It did not move as if it was frightened,
even while walking my hand,
which moved it through swiftness and air.

Ant, alone, without companions,
whose ant-heart I could not fathom—
how is your life, I wanted to ask.

I lifted it, took it outside.

This first day when I could do nothing,
contribute nothing
beyond staying distant from my own kind,
I did this.”

— Jane Hirshfield

Settling In

I’m finally starting to accept what we have to do, in this time of pandemic. It’s taken me awhile to stop fighting it, at least internally, even with closures cascading around us. We even went out to eat Friday night, something I would not do today (we wanted to support our local restaurants, but from now on we’ll do take out). Every time I go to a crowded store, I wonder if I’m spreading it, or if it’s being spread to me. I’m sure all of us have been talking to friends and family across the country, and the stories seem similar everywhere. Most poignant, perhaps, was a story from a friend whose parents live in a nursing home, and he’s not allowed to visit them. It’s for the best, but it’s hard.

We needed rain desperately, and it finally arrived; we got over an inch of it yesterday. It’s looking cold and gloomy for the next week, which doesn’t help anyone’s mood, and makes it hard to be outdoors, which is our only escape right now. (I can’t imagine having to deal with old, dirty, muddy snow, like so many are having to do!) We had our trees pruned Friday and I had the tree company leave me the chippings, so each day I go out in the rain and move a couple dozen wheelbarrows-full around the yard. It keeps me away from screens and the news, which I realize I have to be disciplined about watching.

My sister-in-law Loretta sent me a poem that suggested that we treat this time as sacred, and I’ve been thinking upon that as I put in some hard graft in the garden. In fact, there is plenty of time of think these days. One thing I’ve realized is that my generation (Gen X) hasn’t really ever had to deal with scarcity before. I mean, scarcity as an economic circumstance certainly, but scarcity on this kind of scale is new to us. If we had the means, there’s never been anything stopping us from buying what we need. It’s a new feeling. I’ve said to Tom and the kids that whenever they find themselves in a store of any kind (grocery, hardware, drug) to always keep an eye out for certain things - mostly household paper goods, but also cleaning supplies. In a very small way it reminds me of all the World War II novels I’ve read where the heroine has to go stand in a line for rations and comes home with whatever is available. Of course this is not anywhere near that, I know (baked goods have been flowing from our kitchen as flour and sugar are still readily available, also another reason to hump mulch), but in a very tiny way I have a new understanding of what that kind of scarcity might look like.

I also see that in some ways, this forced family closeness is a blessing. Having two busy teenagers, one about to go off to college, has made it hard to spend time together; now we are together all the time! I’m reminded of when our kids were young, and their stuff was strewn all about the house instead of confined to their rooms. It’s cluttered, but it’s got its own kind of charm. They are having to work through their own feelings of uncertainty (will there be graduation? how to stay close to friends? how will they finish school on time? and will college even be in session in the fall?), and it promotes some good (though hard) conversations. Tom said that this time has reminded him a bit of when Adam had cancer - you just have to put blinders on and get though the day as best you can, and not look at the future too much. There is a sort of relief in that kind of living.

I also wonder how this time will factor in my kids’ personal history. Will this end up to be just a ‘blip,’ or will it be a significantly impacting event? Time will tell.

I’m always interested to hear how all of you are doing, so feel free to post a comment and we can have a conversation about all of this. We now have time for deep thought and contemplation. And time for silliness, too - we just set our TV to record all the old episodes of Mythbusters!

Stay healthy, my friends.

How's Everybody Doing?

The world just feels a little strange right now, no?

We here in the Boegel household are going through what all of you are going through, I would guess. All kinds of cancellations, including things we’d looked forward to for months. A shift in the way we work and go to school. Since Tom’s business is college, and colleges are moving to online-only classes for the foreseeable future, that entails an awful lot of logistics work, as well as concern for the students and their families. School is a safe haven for many, and the provider of perhaps the only meals available for some students, which makes it even harder to find work-arounds for these types of situations. My own college has gone online as well, which let me tell you, sounds convenient but it really isn’t the most engaging way to learn. San Francisco is emptier than usual as most folks are working from home, and that makes it difficult for the local economy to sustain itself. Several health care workers who live in my neighborhood have reported how it is for them at work, which just sounds like a logistical nightmare.

It’s worrisome to think about the future. Being at home so much, and so isolated, means more opportunity to watch/listen/read the news, which just sends me into a tailspin. My mother and I have agreed that too much social isolation isn’t good for the mental health!

Thank God for the garden. Times like this, I’m always so grateful to have a beautiful place to wander in, a respite from the struggle of everyday life. I can search for bees and other insects, turn over the compost and watch the chickens enjoy what they find, smell the orange blossoms, feel the soft papery petals on the poppies, and tend my vegetables. I can also chat with my neighbors as they walk dogs or bike by. This helps immensely. I’m always reminded that the garden feeds more than my belly.

How are you all managing? It would be interesting for me to know how people across the country (or world) are faring, and it would be great to form a sort of community here, sharing ways to maintain our sanity and remain grounded in this crazy time. We need people!

Remain healthy, my friends.