I just tasted the best avocado of my life tonight. It was one that just ripened off the tree we hijacked the other day. I passed by it again today, and I decided to knock on our neighbor's front door to ask if I may pick it legitimately, tomorrow. They greeted us kindly, and when I asked if I could pick a few, they humorously replied, "pick more than a few!" Abundance is a beautiful thing, when it comes to nature.
I look forward to this week, when I shall go to the house of my good friend to pick the largest Valencia orange tree I have ever seen in my life. We shall drink orange juice like Jesus drank wine.
ft.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Trespassing
I am most certainly bold enough to go into your backyard when you are not home, when you are not looking, or when you are sleeping, to take the unpicked fruit from your tree. Mostly, it is because I do not feel guilty for taking what you have by default, thrown away.
That being said, I do recognize that trespassing on someone's property has a bit stronger of an implication than simply plucking fruit off a tree that is technically not one's own.
So I do not tread lightly when I do so. And I will say, for the record, that in nearly all cases, I knock on the front door to ask permission to pluck fruit, first.
In many cases, things happen just like so- I knock on the door. Someone answers. I pop the question. They oblige me. I harvest.
But many times, the situation is just not ideal. Take last night, for instance. It is after two in the morning. I am returning home with my woman. I realize that we are close to an alley full of citrus, and we are out at home. So, we take a quick detour and pass through the aforementioned alley. The first tree we spy has already been plucked from the alley, so the only fruit left accessible, without going over the particularly steep fence of the home, is accessible only from the roof of the back-house. So, we parallel park the vehicle against the wall and turn the tire out. I climb between the tire and the wall, up to the roof of the vehicle, from where I can climb onto the roof. I managed to pick about a dozen ripe Valencia oranges, which we juiced today.
Or here is another situation, which was three days ago. We're walking through a neighborhood in Lakewood (a suburb of Long Beach) and come across a house with an avocado tree (!!! There are almost no fruit bearing trees in this neighborhood, so I was astonished) with every branch bending from the weight of unpicked avocados! Of course, all the fruit had been picked from reachable heights by the sidewalk. So, I go to the door, and knock. I wait a moment and ring the doorbell, for good measure. No answer. So, I go back to the wall by the tree, climb the wall, climb the tree, and pick something between ten and twenty avocados. Big bastards, too! I have them stuffed in a paper bag with some apples right now, waiting for them to get ripe.
So, as it goes, I am a trespasser. It's fun climbing a tree at two in the morning, or sneaking around on a roof. I know that my actions have the potential to get me arrested, but that won't stop me from eating fruit from the tree. Perhaps it seems ridiculous to do these things from a well behaved of view, yet society at large is a bit ridiculous sometimes, from mine. I guess we're tit for tat. =)
ft.
That being said, I do recognize that trespassing on someone's property has a bit stronger of an implication than simply plucking fruit off a tree that is technically not one's own.
So I do not tread lightly when I do so. And I will say, for the record, that in nearly all cases, I knock on the front door to ask permission to pluck fruit, first.
In many cases, things happen just like so- I knock on the door. Someone answers. I pop the question. They oblige me. I harvest.
But many times, the situation is just not ideal. Take last night, for instance. It is after two in the morning. I am returning home with my woman. I realize that we are close to an alley full of citrus, and we are out at home. So, we take a quick detour and pass through the aforementioned alley. The first tree we spy has already been plucked from the alley, so the only fruit left accessible, without going over the particularly steep fence of the home, is accessible only from the roof of the back-house. So, we parallel park the vehicle against the wall and turn the tire out. I climb between the tire and the wall, up to the roof of the vehicle, from where I can climb onto the roof. I managed to pick about a dozen ripe Valencia oranges, which we juiced today.
Or here is another situation, which was three days ago. We're walking through a neighborhood in Lakewood (a suburb of Long Beach) and come across a house with an avocado tree (!!! There are almost no fruit bearing trees in this neighborhood, so I was astonished) with every branch bending from the weight of unpicked avocados! Of course, all the fruit had been picked from reachable heights by the sidewalk. So, I go to the door, and knock. I wait a moment and ring the doorbell, for good measure. No answer. So, I go back to the wall by the tree, climb the wall, climb the tree, and pick something between ten and twenty avocados. Big bastards, too! I have them stuffed in a paper bag with some apples right now, waiting for them to get ripe.
So, as it goes, I am a trespasser. It's fun climbing a tree at two in the morning, or sneaking around on a roof. I know that my actions have the potential to get me arrested, but that won't stop me from eating fruit from the tree. Perhaps it seems ridiculous to do these things from a well behaved of view, yet society at large is a bit ridiculous sometimes, from mine. I guess we're tit for tat. =)
ft.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Golden Gate Park
There was a point, last week, when I was traveling around some of the northern parts of the beautiful state of California. I found myself uncommittedly wandering through San Francisco for a bit of time, and I had been spending an early morning with an old friend. We stopped by a farmer's market, where I found some of the best heirloom tomatoes ever, and a few pieces of fruit to snack on, before lunch. He then had to go to work, so I tagged along that far, to where the free shuttle took him to the UC Hospital which he caters for.
I'd asked him whereabouts we were, and what might strike my interest within walking distance (although pretty much everything in San Francisco is walking distance, by my standards), and he mentioned Golden Gate Park. My brain lit up immediately, as I'd heard so many great things about the large swath of public land. So, I saw him off, and made myself a cup of tea (I usually keep my tea leaves with me when I travel) with a generous contribution of hot water from Starbucks (they don't charge you for a cup of hot water, it's really nice when you're on the road), and sat down to ponder my day for a little before I walked down to the park.
Golden Gate Park was just a little north of the UCSF Medical Center, so I walked that way, and a bit west. Arriving at the park, I felt very satisfied by it's expanse. I could tell that the end of the park was not visible to me, and that it would take a good number of hours to travel it all, so I made my way in a roundabout fashion, walking all the trails.
Now, I will say that it is remarkable how many drunk homeless folk one can encounter in this park near the hour of 10am. One of them was quite friendly, and I think if he were not so inebriated he would have taken a better shot at harassing me for some money. We instead ended up talking for about five minutes. I did my best to understand my transient friend, though he was roughly incoherent throughout the majority of his mumbling. Down the path, another gentleman asked me to walk into the bushes with him, and when I asked him what for, he expressed his desire to sell me some pot. He was overtly disappointed by my response.
After a little bit of distance from those characters, I found myself on some quiet trails. There were a handful of gray squirrels frolicking about. I entertained myself by watching one pick apart a pine cone for the seeds inside. There were a handful of beautiful birds that I could not identify, lofting and playing above me. Further down the trails, a hummingbird came into my sight. I estimated it to be hovering somewhere around 120 feet above me, and a bit in front of me. It did something that was particularly interesting which was, from its highest point of flight, would dive-bomb straight down into a tree where I could not see it, and then immediately return to hover where it had previously been situated. It performed this ritual half a dozen times or so, before it flew off to do something else.
Anyway, in my walking, I saw several trails that were off the beaten path, per se. So I took one at random, and went deep into a more forested area of the park. I was pleased to find a peaceful place with an old fallen tree, that made for a great place to sit and think. I pondered perhaps to read the book by Tom Brown Jr. that a friend had given me. It was about that time that I looked to my left, and noticed the massive black-berry tree, bursting out of the flora, in the sunlight. This was a particularly exciting discovery, as it is the season for berries. I was also pleased to observe that, since this was far off the regular trails, there would be no concerns about pesticides or any other kinds of chemical sprays. There were observably dozens of ripe berries, amidst the thorny bush.
Unfortunately, I was not particularly well equipped to be fumbling around the thorns of the briar, and so I had to accept the fact that the thorns were going to be carving me out a bit, in trade for taking their fruit. I tried for the first bit of my harvesting to pluck only the berries that were not buried in the deeper parts of the briar, but after having eaten a few and realizing how good they were, I came to accept that I would have to go deeper into the bush. I managed to avoid getting cut to pieces, but my calves did suffer a bit for my belly.
I walked around more of the back-trails, discovering bum-nests and other black berry trees. I found a serviceable can-opener deep in one of the briars, and opted to take it home with me, since it was certainly not in a place that someone had intended to store it for later use. In the end, I covered about a half-mile of back trails, and took home about a pound of sweet black berries.
I'd asked him whereabouts we were, and what might strike my interest within walking distance (although pretty much everything in San Francisco is walking distance, by my standards), and he mentioned Golden Gate Park. My brain lit up immediately, as I'd heard so many great things about the large swath of public land. So, I saw him off, and made myself a cup of tea (I usually keep my tea leaves with me when I travel) with a generous contribution of hot water from Starbucks (they don't charge you for a cup of hot water, it's really nice when you're on the road), and sat down to ponder my day for a little before I walked down to the park.
Golden Gate Park was just a little north of the UCSF Medical Center, so I walked that way, and a bit west. Arriving at the park, I felt very satisfied by it's expanse. I could tell that the end of the park was not visible to me, and that it would take a good number of hours to travel it all, so I made my way in a roundabout fashion, walking all the trails.
Now, I will say that it is remarkable how many drunk homeless folk one can encounter in this park near the hour of 10am. One of them was quite friendly, and I think if he were not so inebriated he would have taken a better shot at harassing me for some money. We instead ended up talking for about five minutes. I did my best to understand my transient friend, though he was roughly incoherent throughout the majority of his mumbling. Down the path, another gentleman asked me to walk into the bushes with him, and when I asked him what for, he expressed his desire to sell me some pot. He was overtly disappointed by my response.
After a little bit of distance from those characters, I found myself on some quiet trails. There were a handful of gray squirrels frolicking about. I entertained myself by watching one pick apart a pine cone for the seeds inside. There were a handful of beautiful birds that I could not identify, lofting and playing above me. Further down the trails, a hummingbird came into my sight. I estimated it to be hovering somewhere around 120 feet above me, and a bit in front of me. It did something that was particularly interesting which was, from its highest point of flight, would dive-bomb straight down into a tree where I could not see it, and then immediately return to hover where it had previously been situated. It performed this ritual half a dozen times or so, before it flew off to do something else.
Anyway, in my walking, I saw several trails that were off the beaten path, per se. So I took one at random, and went deep into a more forested area of the park. I was pleased to find a peaceful place with an old fallen tree, that made for a great place to sit and think. I pondered perhaps to read the book by Tom Brown Jr. that a friend had given me. It was about that time that I looked to my left, and noticed the massive black-berry tree, bursting out of the flora, in the sunlight. This was a particularly exciting discovery, as it is the season for berries. I was also pleased to observe that, since this was far off the regular trails, there would be no concerns about pesticides or any other kinds of chemical sprays. There were observably dozens of ripe berries, amidst the thorny bush.
Unfortunately, I was not particularly well equipped to be fumbling around the thorns of the briar, and so I had to accept the fact that the thorns were going to be carving me out a bit, in trade for taking their fruit. I tried for the first bit of my harvesting to pluck only the berries that were not buried in the deeper parts of the briar, but after having eaten a few and realizing how good they were, I came to accept that I would have to go deeper into the bush. I managed to avoid getting cut to pieces, but my calves did suffer a bit for my belly.
I walked around more of the back-trails, discovering bum-nests and other black berry trees. I found a serviceable can-opener deep in one of the briars, and opted to take it home with me, since it was certainly not in a place that someone had intended to store it for later use. In the end, I covered about a half-mile of back trails, and took home about a pound of sweet black berries.
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