Miraculous nature

New pumpkin in the midst of disaster

So remember how, just a few weeks ago, I was complaining about how all was lost, disaster disaster disaster on the veggie garden front.

Here's the thing about nature...there's really no such thing as failure.  It makes me thing of that moment in Jurassic Park..."nature finds a way".

look close, the beans are flowering...in november!

Zucchini!!

The completely destroyed garden beds, given a few weeks of sun without goat menace, have completely regenerated, all by themselves.  We have zucchinis, pumpkins, even green beans!  granted, its too late its going to get too cold for them to properly mature and ripen, but i just think its wonderful that out of that devastation comes new growth as a matter of course.  Glorious!

mmmmmm...just look at that savoy!  Salva capra o cavolo my ass!

Cabbage patch, isn't it lovely!

our "new" tank 1987 land cruiser...they don't make 'em like they used to!

Peak Oil and Urban Agriculture

I just found this great site for an organisation that does training on sustainable farming and urban agriculture, as well as campaigning for a more sustainable and coherent food policy in the USA.  It is definitely worth a read for everyone, not just those interested in agriculture because, in my opinion, urban agriculture is what will save the world (well, the urban part of it, anyway!!):  http://www.growingpower.org/index.htm

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, and so as not to seem hysterical and crazy wierdo armageddon-ist, I don't talk about it much, I just let everyone assume our farming is a lifestyle choice, an environmental choice, a moral choice.  But its more than that -- a very large part of my motivation for our project is simple selfish security.  If we reach peak oil within my lifetime, I don't want my family to starve. 

When most people think of peak oil, they think of transport problems, perhaps they think "ah well, we'll do without the carribean holiday, we'll buy an electric car". and cars can be powered by electricity, methane, used fryer oil from restaurants.  Yes, of course transport is effected by expensive oil, but it is a solve-able problem. We can use alternatives, we can do without, we can walk, we can buy local. 

No, the Really Scary Problem of a world without enough oil is not transport, but agriculture.  The first obvious issue is the work -- the agricultural machines that make mass production possible are all obviously oil powered.  Tractors, combine harvesters, chainsaws, wood chippers --  one farmer cannot cultivate 200 hectares of corn with a remote controlled tractor if the fuel for the tractor costs more than the corn will earn.   A single barrel of oil contains the equivalent of about 20,000 hours of human labour. That's more than 2 years of work for about 150$. (See http://europe.theoildrum.com/node/4315) (in fact there is an interesting thing to think about...the rise in mechanized agriculture and cheap fossil fuel coinciding with the abolition of slavery...would humans have had the same moral strength and conviction to abolish slavery if they didn't have a cheap labour alternative?...i don't know, but its interesting to think about).  

But that is only the small problem, and solvable... if there is no diesel for the tractors, then we can go back to horses and oxen.  And perhaps there will be enough people hungry and out of work that there will be plenty of man-labour instead of oil-labour to replace the oil used in machines.  Or perhaps we can invent solar powered tractors and electric chainsaws.  We can make methane cars, why not combine harvesters?  And we really are a very clever species, we will come up with alternative ways of doing the work if we really need to.

No, the real problem is soil health.  Gosh, that doesn't really sound like a scary problem does it?  Dirt Fitness isn't on everybodies cocktail conversation list.  But a huge percentage of the world's food production is completely reliant on chemical fertilizers.  Pretty much the entire american food production (except for those few hippy dippy organic producers) wouldn't be possible without it.  I don't know much about the health implications of such fertilizers, and that's not my argument at the moment -- in a social aspect, they are a wonderful thing because they increase the crop yields enormously, and make it possible for enormous amounts of food to be grown.  Enough to feed the whole world, power lots of bio-diesel cars, and even burn up tons just to keep the prices up.  Hunger sucks.  I'm all for something that makes it possible for no one on the planet to go hungry (wouldn't it be great if it actually worked like that, if surplus was sent where it was needed rather than wasted, sigh...).

There's a but though...(isn't there always?). The use of chemical fertilizers has replaced any need to maintain soil health, a laborious and delicate job.  Why bother rotating crops when you can throw down some potassium nitrate and be done with it, with better yield too?  And manure...ick!  Did they really once actually fertilise our food with poo...eeeeeew.

Result?  A huge and scary percentage (I forget the exact number so I won't mention it, but it was, like, huge.) of the main crop producing arable land is now sterile.  Without the addition of nitrate fertilisers, the barren soil will not produce food.  Have you guessed where this is going?...

Yes, nitrate based fertilisers are a petrolium product.  If we don't have cheap oil, we don't have cheap fertilisers.  And if we don't have fertilisers, we don't have food. No matter how many clever ways we figure out to do the work, at the end of the day, the plant needs to be fed.  A plant eats decomposed and digested life -- in healthy sustainable agriculture, that means manure, compost, anything biodegradable gets broken down by the worms and the microbes in the soil and turned into nitrates and other nutrients for the plants to eat. ( In the case of petrolium by-product fertilizers, what the plants are being fed is basically compressed dinosaur poop: same shit, different billenia)  A soil without microbes and worms cannot sustain life. And a soil that has been chemically fertilised, pesticided relentlessly, and never ever rotated or rested, has not got microbes and worms.  

Its not enough to stick a seed in the dirt.  You have to stick a seed in good dirt.

Oh, and I just love it when someone says to me "I'm not worried about peak-oil, after all we have bio-diesel now and can power our cars with corn"  ay yi yi.  Sorry fella, no oil, no corn.

It takes about 30-40 years for an average sterile field to regain its natural soil health when left to its own devices.  When helped along by the farmer (adding compost, building it up year by year, with lighter green manure crops first, then heavy nitrate producing plants like the velvet runner bean) it can take as little as 10 years.  10 years is a very long time for just about everyone to be hungry.  Most sociologists give any given civilization 3 missed meals before things start getting skanky.  

This is what we affectionately refer to as "WTSHTF"  also known as "TEOTWAWKI".  (that would be "when the shit hits the fan" or "the end of the world as we know it" to those of you as yet unindoctrinated...and just an aside question, is the shit hitting the fan dinosaur shit?? ).

Ok, so anyway, that's the bad news.  Here's the good news...its already happened.  Cuba.  1989.  Soviet Union falls, Cuba is cut off from its entire oil supply.  The agriculture, once a marvel of modern technology (really, cuban agriculture was super duper modern in the 80s), ground to a halt.  As an average, every single cuban lost about 10kg (22 pounds) in the first year.  They were hungry.  But they didn't starve to death.

They developed urban agriculture.  Everyone started producing what they could, where they could.  The mass production crop fields were useless, but the suburbs all turned over lawns and parks to market gardens.  The highrises in the cities started growing tomatoes on the balconies instead of geraniums.   Look around...there is a lot of empty good dirt even in the city.  And a bit at a time, the main crop fields were rejuvenated and brought back to life.  Much like the victory gardens in London during ww2.  A city can produce almost enough food to feed itself, if the people know how! 

 So, yeah, um, that's what we're doing really.  I guess I'm out of the wierdo closet now.  We are learning how.  We are hoping to help other people learn how too, if we can. So that when (if) that moment comes where the price of oil is too high to permit chemical fertilisation, there will be an alternative way to make food already on the table (so to speak!), already tried and already tested and already producing. 

I'm counting on this change coming slowly, peak oil doesn't mean today we have oil and tomorrow we don't.  Peak oil means the point at which we are consuming more oil than we are digging up, but there will still be oil, and it will be a slow turnover as things are reprioritised as the reserves get eaten up.

'Cause if the shit really does hit the fan hard and fast, I doubt we will be able to defend our wee plot...I'm planning on getting a shotgun and learning how to use it, but if the zombies are coming and they are hungry enough, my puny shot gun won't keep them off long...so lets hope we can make enough pockets of change before its so terribly necessary, and build up communities that are feeding themselves more and more -- lets start making the change to local produce rather than relying on the produce of sterile soil thousands of miles away...then maybe we can avert the zombies...

Right, so, back to the beginning...these guys are cool, check it out:

http://www.growingpower.org/index.htm.
Also google and read up on permaculture and guerilla gardening -- its not the end of the world...just the end of the world as we know it!

What I Did Last Summer...

What a summer...do you really want to know what happened?  Really???  Really Really????

OK, I'll tell you then.  SUMMER FROM HELL.  No, really!  Really really!!  All possible things that could go wrong went wrong.  We were put through the real-life trials and tests that come with choosing a dream that is not easy in real-life.  We faced a number of realities that we knew were coming, and a few that were surprises, but did we quit?  NO!  We have changed some alignments, re-adjusted some expectations, and all is full steam ahead.  Well, full steam in a holding circle until the damn house gets sold, anyway.

Last I posted I was whining about all the lost hay.  10 days of work for wet rotten hay.  (which is good as litter for the animals, so not wasted, and litter costs more than hay anyway, so there...there's always a bright side!|).  What i didn't mention, was that in those 10 days, the vegetable garden was completely neglected, cause Gab was doing hay and I was stuck in Salò with the kids and school and such.  Just 10 days of glorious weather, then 5 days of rain,  in the beginning of June was enough to completely jungle-ify the early veg -- the peas and beans were completely lost to weeds...no, really, completely.  We had chenopodium (so delicious when small, so completely invasive when allowed to grow) over 4 feet tall, the beds completely infested and we couldn't find the poor beans in the jungle.  So we decided to just plough it over and give up on the beans for this year.

That's not so bad, anyway, because the three sisters (corn, zukes/pumpkins, green beans) were just glorious, absolutely booming and tons of them.  So we were consoled...but not for long.

In early July, we lost a goat.  Ernestina got herself tangled up in the electric fence and couldn't get free.  Wouldn't be a problem if we were around, but it was Raffi's birthday party, so we were gone for the day.  That was a hard hard blow, and it had consequences.

Gab didn't trust the fence anymore, and wouldn't turn it on for fear another goat would be hurt or killed.  It didn't take long for the goats to figure out that the fence was no longer a hindrance to them, and within a day or two they started escaping regularly.  First once, then twice...then three to four times every single day.

what corn looks like after a goat attack

Goats really like corn.  The corn is right on the other side of their fence.  The corn didn't last long, and as soon as it was gone, they started on the zucchinis and beans underneath.  Once again, we were consoled..."at least they don't seem to like Solanaceas, and the they are leaving the (glorious, healthy, strong) tomatoes, peppers, eggplants alone."

Weeeellll...they don't like solanaceas as much as they like corn and zucchini.  But as soon as the corn and zucchini was finished...well, tomatoes will do in a pinch.  Yes, when I saw the destroyed tomatoes, I have to admit, I broke down and cried.  But it wasn't finished yet.

Once a few hundred metres of glorious corn

Tomatoes, peppers and eggplants gone...they moved on to the onions and garlic.  Ever smelled onion-garlic goat farts?  You don't want to go there, believe me!

The simple answer would be to just fix the fencing, but its not so easy. The electric mesh is too big for small newling goats (though OK for adults), but we can't put fixed fencing because we don't have planning permission, and its also the middle of summer and the woods are hard to clear and fence in when all is growing.  And on top of that, fencing is a huge job and Gab is completely demoralised and distracted.  It will take ordering different mesh, for chickens, which has to be ordered and shipped because its so uncommon, taking about a million years to arrive, AND it costs a fortune.  We could have tried to fence off just the garden, leaving them free to roam everywhere else, but then they would escape to the neighbours' gardens, and that would have far worse consequences than just our own losses.  anyway, it wasn't an easy fix!

mmmmm onions and garlic!

So here we are in August, and we haven't managed to harvest a single thing.  Its not just the goats either, the fox got 8 chickens, someone stole the turkey cock, and the crows got almost ALL the baby chicks because we let them out of their safety pen too soon.

What to do?  Keep on trying of course.  I started to plant the winter cabbages, put down a bed of brussels, and they didn't even last out the day.  Holy Moly, do goats LIKE cabbages.

That same day, I met a friend of Gab's who also keeps goats, and told her about the brussels etc, and she told me there is a proverb in italian, much like having your cake and eating it too, that says "si salva capra o cavolo" -- "you can save either the goat or the cabbage, but not both".  ooooo, thems be fightin' words i say.  And so I went straight home and individually fenced off just the cabbage section, and if any stupid greedy goats wants to risk their life to eat my cabbages, well fine!  We'll make goat sausages.  SO THERE. HAH!  (goat sausage is sooooo yum!) And the cabbages are still doing beautifully, we will be able to start picking them soon, hoooooraaaah!!

Yes, we ate all the fruit too...

Add to all this turmoil 6 people living in 600sqf for three months straight of average 35 degrees sweltering hot sun.  Add to that the blocked septic system for about 3 weeks (eeeew).  And you have a recipe for a lot of tension and stress, a lot of doubt and anxiety.  We had to do a lot of work on our relationship, on our plans, on our dreams and our expectations too.

But we've come out on top of things, and ready to do things one step at a time, rolling with the punches as it were.

I just look naughty, don't I?

And is ALWAYS the case, out of difficulties comes growth and new ideas and always something positive.  We are more together, more dedicated, and also more relaxed about the whole enterprise.  Whereas before this summer, we were frustrated, pushing and pushing but not getting anywhere, now we will take it as it comes, and are working from rooted strength rather than just blind enthusiasm.  Until we sell the house, we can't do anything more than that, so one step at a time!

Another super bonus...in the absence of our own harvest, I focussed so much more on what was free, wild, abundant and already there in nature.  We still have a freezer full of food and a pantry full of jams and preserves, just made out of wild food instead of cultivated.  I made elderberry jams and elderflower syrup, have dried elderberries for putting in muffins and breads and such.  I have racks of jam from cherry dogwood fruits, wild plums and damsons, wild strawberries, blackberries.  Wild mint and achillea teas, nettles in freezer, and so on.

And from this comes an awesome new idea -- I reckon there's a high end market for jams and preserves made from wild fruit.  I'll call it "wild thing" and sell it for gobs of money in fancy restaurants and boutiques to well heeled city folk who want "more than organic".  Quantities are limited, obviously, and the product absolutely fantastically delicious, as well unusual.  Combine rare, unique, and delicious, and I think we may find a way to make this project actually even make some profit for us.

We did have one grand triumph, though -- it wasn't ALL disaster.  The bees did their job, and we harvested over 100kg of the best wild mountain honey you have ever imagined.  Mind blowingly delicious!  Oh, and the goats can't dig up potatoes, so lots of potatoes too!

Now that autumn is upon us, Gab has spent a month clearing paths in the forest for fencing, building up the fixed fencing and gates around the stable and paddock (and planning permission be damned...don't tell any park authorities though!) and installing the new smaller mesh electric fence all around.  They now have a great big piece of land to browse and munch in peace, without threatening anybody's gardens.

And so we get back into the swing of things!  The bucks arrived yesterday, and soon we will have a stable full of pregnant goats.  Soon I'll go up and get some pictures, and that will be my next post...in a few days, rather than a few months!!

Ottimismo e anarcosocialismo reale a Provaglio Valsabbia

Ho già raccontato di Peppino in un post precedente.

Qualche giorno fa viene a trovarmi e mi dice che un suo amico ha una costa piena di spini da ripulire. Gli ha chiesto di portare le sue pecore per svolgere il lavoro. Il buon Peppino suggerisce invece all'amico Geppe di impiegare le mie capre, perchè il "broc" ovvero la crescita del giovane bosco che sta crescendo là è roba per capre e non pecore, ed io sono a due passi, mentre le sue pecore sono in fondo alla via Canale, a 4km di distanza.
Guardo Peppino un po' interdetto: "Cosa mi frega di portarle a ripulire la boscaglia del Geppe, qui ci sono ettari di bosco in tutte le direzioni, non mi serve". Peppino mi dice di seguirlo e non preoccuparmi, che visto il posto capirò.

"Tu digli sempre di sì e stai zitto, lascia parlare me che quello è originale", mi ordina. Va bene, mi dico, non posso contraddirlo, andiamo a vedere.

Sono due o trecento metri di distanza da me, due passi. Passiamo per il bosco, una radura, poi un prato si apre davanti. Recintato, sarà un ettaro e mezzo. E in fondo c'è una bella baracchina in cui ripararsi quando piove. Ci sono due vasche da bagno, per l'acqua.
Il recinto necessita di qualche riparazione, ma tutto sommato è ancora passabile. Geppe ci teneva 50 pecore. "Stai zitto che te lo faccio prendere", mi dice Peppino.

In effetti il Geppe è ragionevole e amichevole, e in cinque minuti ci si accorda sull'uso che potrò fare del suo recinto, in pratica e' come fosse mio eccetto in settembre quando lui e il fratello sparano dal capanno, allora sara' meglio non tenerci le mie bestiole. Poi dovrò anche sfalciare il pezzo di prato e la piana. Caspita, penso, questo ha un sacco di posto a due passi da me e non se ne fa nulla, ed è disposto ad affidarmelo.

Dopo quelli che mi hanno appena affibbiato alle Piazze, eccone un altro.

Da qui è partita una riflessione su quello che (mi) sta succedendo in Canale: indipendentemente dalla proprietà dei terreni, essi vengono coltivati da chi può farlo, chi ne ha voglia, con o senza attrezzature. Quelle le mette chi le ha, io taglio, lui imballa, l'altro volta, il proprietario... boh. Tutto è a prestito. Nulla e' registrato, e' tutto sulla parola. E i lavori vengono assegnati su basi fiduciarie.

Fermi tutti.

La terra, qui, va a chi la lavora. Orpo! Roba zapatista, mi ricorda quando da bambino guardavo i film spaghetti western e in uno sulla rivoluzione messicana, sentii quello slogan, "la terra è di chi la lavora", una frase, un concetto rivoluzionario e socialista che m'è rimasto in testa fino ad oggi e che sicuramente mi ha influenzato!

E ce n'è ancora! Ci sono l'autorganizzazione del lavoro e la redistribuzione dei terreni, assegnati ancora sulla fiducia, da ciascuno secondo le proprie disponibilità, a ciascuno secondo le proprie necessità. Altro slogan, e anche questo è socialismo, anarcosocialismo. E non solo i terreni, adesso m'e' arrivato un fienile e una stalla, grossi, saranno 3-400mq di roba che posso usare cosi', se mi serve, finche' mi serve. Incredibile!

C'è, in Canal, addirittura l'isolamento sociale dei soggetti indesiderati (ladri). La comunità stessa che supera la necessità delle pene e della coercizione punitiva. Orpo. Ancora anarchia, ancora socialismo. Difatti, a Provaglio non ci sono forze dell'ordine.

Incredibile.
Socialismo reale a Provaglio Valsabbia. Anarchia.

Tutto vero e funzionante, davanti ai miei occhi, sotto al mio naso. In pieno occidente capitalista, Italia, 2012.

E per poco, quasi quasi, se non stavo attento, non me ne accorgevo.

C'è speranza per il mondo.

Allegria!

Make hay while the sun shines

What our animals eat is at the very foundation of our project -- it needs to be healthy, clean, sustainable, organic.  And when they eat well, well then so do we!  The quality of the goats' hay has a huge impact on both the quality and quantity of their milk production.  So, of course, we can't just go to the farm shop and buy their hay-- round here the good hay is kept for the hay-makers animals, and only the crappy hay makes it to market.  So its another thing that we have to learn how to make ourselves, and one that I had completely overlooked in our planning stages. 

The mountain tractor, finished cutting

Making hay looks so easy, but there is a whole science around what types of plants to cultivate in the hay fields, when to cut them, and so on.  And making hay in mountain fields is a far cry from the nice flat john deered hay fields you see lining the edges of the motorways.  In the sloping and irregular mountain fields, the hay can only be cut and worked with small machines and hand tools. Only a push mower can get into the cracks and go up the slopes.  The steeper slopes have to be hand cut with a scythe and hand turned with a rake. 

Field of hay waiting to be baled

To make hay you must 1) cut the right grass at the right time  2) turn it as it dries in the sun, so it dries nicely without losing its nutrients and 3) bale it up into manageable sized bales.  4)Gather and store it appropriately so it lasts through the winter.  It really does sound easy...

 Our hayfields are all in the mountains around us, so have to be cut with Gab's hand pushed tractor.  It takes gab about 2 days just to cut the hay in the fields that have been entrusted to him (we cut our neighbours hay, they don't need it but it needs to be done so it works out for everyone).  For the turning, there is a turning attachment on the same hand pushed tractor.  It takes another full day to turn and dry if there is full hot sun.  If its cloudy or dewy from too cool evenings, it can take two turnings and thus two days. 

ahhh, lovely finished bales waiting pick up

The baling is entirely reliant on technology -- if the baler works then its OK, if it fails then woe woe woe!  Yes, our baler has been a bit uppity, but that is completely another story -- that will be the next post i think!  The last time around, it took Gab 4 or was it 5 days to bale all the hay, because of baler failure.  Under normal circumstances, it would take about 1-2 days.

And last but not least, heave ho over 100 x 40kg baby bales into the pick up which fits about 12 at a time, truck them up to the hay barn (which we don't have yet, so they are in a gazebo for the moment!), unload them and go back for more.  Repeat until the circa 125 bales are loaded and put away. A job that gets done one trip a day over the course of 10 days or more.

So how much frickin' work is that??? Holy smokes!  2 days plus 2 days plus 2-4 days plus 1-2 days...7-10 days work.  OK, we can handle that (well, Gab can...I'm right glad that's his job and he's happy with it!!), and just one cutting is enough for our animals, and the other cuttings throughout the year we can sell at a pretty good price.

EXCEPT that if it rains during the process, just once is enough, then ALL the hay is ruined.  It can only be used for animal bedding or compost.  And the rotten thing is, even though you know the hay is worthless on the ground, you still have to turn it, bale it, pick it up, otherwise the field beneath will be ruined and you can't make more hay next time.   That's what happened this June -- 11 days of work for crappy worthless mouldy hay because it rained at just the wrong time, contrary to all the weather predictions.  Aaaaaaaaaaargh!  That is such a classic farmer's frustration.  Days and days and days of work, all up the spout because of a glitch in the weather.  And you don't want to know what 11 days of neglect does to a big veggie garden...

So, my dears, it really is as they say...MAKE HAY WHILE THE SUN SHINES!  Or Else!

Mia takes a hay bath with zia Sabri

  

Breaking Bee Records

It would be awesome if our bees were breaking honey production records, or quality records, or other such positive and exciting things that the title may have led you to believe...but alas, the bee record that i broke last week was the "most stings recorded in a single attack".

That's the kind of record I'm not so anxious to break again!

It was my first time out to actually actively help with the bees.  Both Gab and i were fully suited and booted -- full body suit, mask tucked in, gloves, boots, the works.  We were aiming to catch a really big swarm that had got away that morning and was settling into a high branch on a cherry tree.

We didn't want to cut the branch off, because it is a major part of the cherry's production.  But it was too high to just grab and pull down.  So we improvised...Gab had me hold the hive on top of my head, and he climbed up the tree to shake the swarm off the branch and into the hive...yes, the one on top of my head.  Gosh, that really does sound stupid, now that its all written out in black and white, doesn't it?  But at the time it made perfect sense.  Swarms are docile when they are swarming, and Gab had done may similar such manoeuvers with other swarms.

Only thing is, he wasn't perfectly aligned when he shook the branch...and the swarm MISSED the hive and went THUMP all the way to the ground right beside me.  And swarming or not, no bee is docile when its been thumped to the ground like that!  Let alone about 10.000 bees thumped to the ground all at once.

I got 23 stings that made it through all the protections, and the suit was full of stingers that didn't make it through, more than a hundred stingers in the suit all over.  Actually, i was most surprised at the fact that the stings don't really hurt that much -- maybe because they were through the suit, and therefore not as much venom got through.  The worst was the itch two days later!

Anyway, its all good -- bee venom is very good for you...in small doses!!  And Gab caught the swarm the next day all by himself, using a ladder to hold the hive instead of his wife's head.  Much safer that way!

We're well into summer now, so lots is happening and there's no time to write about it, but in the next few days i'm planning to write a number of smaller posts trying to catch up on everything overall...thanks to Kaitlyn for the nagging, otherwise i'd just get carried away in the day to day and forget completely to blog it!

Le gratificazioni dell'Homo Agricolus - grazie per la fiducia accordata

Alcuni esercizi commerciali scrivono sui sacchetti "grazie per la fiducia accordata". Ipocriti. A loro interessa il mio acquisto, con la mia fiducia non si pagano i fornitori. 

C'è un pastore, in fondo alla via, si chiama Peppino ed ha 50 pecore.
Il Peppino da sempre alleva vacche, pecore e capre e sfalcia e vende fieno che taglia nei suoi tanti prati col trattore e la falciatrice, un lavoro pesante malgrado l'età vada ormai verso gli ottanta.
Sempre per non perdere l'abitudine e tenersi in forma, fa pure il boscaiolo, davanti a casa sua ci sono enormi cataste di legna da tagliare, spaccare, impilare, caricare sul trattore e consegnare.
Col sole, la pioggia, con la neve. Lui è sempre fuori con le sue pecore e suoi cani.
Peppino è una persona per bene, è rispettato e sa farsi rispettare, il suo giudizio su un animale -o su una persona- è pesante, a Sabbio Sopra, quanto quello di una corte di giustizia. Suoi, o dei suoi discendenti e familiari, sono parte dei prati lungo il Canale e nelle Piazze. Li sfalcia lui, anche quelli non di sua proprietà.
Peppino è una persona dalla battuta pronta, il suo sarcasmo è tagliente, anche caustico, ma ogni volta divertente. Sa farsi ascoltare anche quando è irriverente. E' uno giusto.

Certo che lo stimo. E gli porto uno scherzoso, ma sinceramente ossequioso rispetto.

Da quando lavoro in Canale si fa vedere regolarmente, mi studia, chiede cosa faccio, commenta le mie tecniche e lavorazioni che, apprese per lo più sui libri, spesso si discostano dal modo di lavorare che lui conosce meglio, quello tradizionale del posto. Mi piace confrontare con lui pregi e difetti dei vari sistemi e, per rispetto alla conoscenza tradizionale e per uno strano senso del dovere, chiedo, mi informo, mi sforzo di imparare tutto quello che può e vuole insegnare, sulla sfalciatura del fieno, il bosco, le erbe e le piante buone e quelle cattive, l'allevamento, i cani, il pascolo.
Cerco di assorbire il più possibile e ne nascono spesso discussioni stimolanti, anche perchè nonostante l'età si dimostra tutt'altro che scettico o chiuso verso le mie stranezze. Spesso mi loda, e mi piace sorprenderlo con prodotti "esotici" che non conosce. I Topinambur gli sono piaciuti al punto che se ne è fatti dare qualche manciata da piantare questa primavera. La moglie ne va matta, mi dice.

Qualche tempo fa, dopo avermi visitato e ispezionato puntigliosamente le capre, facendomi i complimenti per la scelta, mi giunge voce dal paese che il Peppino dice "in giro" che le mie capre sono tra le più belle che ha mai visto e che, a tenerle bene come le sto tenendo, "le farà bel fes", ovvero mi daranno soddisfazioni. Orbene, mi sono detto, la prima grande soddisfazione me l'ha data proprio lui, la sua approvazione -pubblica, per di più- conta per me più della medaglia alla fiera nazionale. E mi verrebbe da dire che le lodi da sperticare sarebbero quelle degli allevatori che le hanno selezionate e tirate grandi a sufficienza per portarle da me. Ma tant'è, il riconoscimento, almeno per il lavoro che sto facendo, è arrivato e me lo prendo con gusto.

Prima gratificazione.

Seconda: lo scorso anno, mentre sfalcio un prato vicino ai suoi, mi dice che forse per l'anno prossimo mi lascia tagliare uno dei suoi pezzi, visto che mi serve il fieno e visto che sta diventando faticoso per lui da fare con la falciatrice, lui preferirebbe fare solo i pezzi col trattore. Mi sono detto, ad avere la sua grinta, mi aspettano almeno 40 anni di sfalciature in piedi con la BCS. Non so se sarò in grado di trovare una potenza così in me, ci proverò. Se non altro per sfida. Se ci riesce lui, diamine, devo farcela anche io. Tanto non è serio, mi dicevo, figuriamoci se me lo affida davvero. Sta scherzando come al solito, mi provoca per vedere la reazione. Ovviamente accetto con finto entusiasmo. Non posso mica dirgli di no.
Passa un anno e si ricomincia con il fieno, mi ferma mentre passo e mi molla la bomba, "dobbiamo andare alle Piazze che ti mostro i confini".
Ostia.
Era tutto vero.
Andiamo.

Sono emozionato, mi rendo conto che lui, l'ultimo pastore di Sabbio Sopra, l'autorità morale ed etica più alta del Canale, ha chiesto a me, io povero cretino appena arrivato, di sfalciare i suoi prati.
Poteva darli a chiunque, ci sono una mezza dozzina di agricoltori e allevatori che ne hanno bisogno nei paraggi, mica solo io. No, tocca a me. Forse, mi dico, mi vuole solo mettere alla prova. Il prato è molto grande, di certo avrò più fieno di quello che mi serve, ne avrò da vendere.
Eppure non ero il solo ad essere emozionato, credo che anche lui avvertisse un po' la solennità del momento, si comportava stranamente.
Non lo avevo mai visto così severo, serio e preciso. Mi impartiva gli ordini di lavorazione come un caporale con le reclute, "si parte di qua, si volta di là, si infila da questa parte, non farlo là" e via così. Nemmeno una battuta, niente. Finito il giro, si fa riportare a casa e sparisce dentro, niente ciao.

Avere in carico il prato del Peppino è più che un lavoro, è un onore. Una gratificazione personale importante perchè materializza una fiducia data, la fiducia che qualcosa, tra quello che passiamo la vita a fare, grazie a qualcuno prosegue alla faccia dello spettro dell'abbandono, visibile ovunque, nelle terre, nei mestieri, nelle parole. E quel qualcuno sono io. Segare il suo prato è una medaglia che porto sul petto quando incrocio gli altri contadini che sfalciano attorno. C'è scritto "ci sono".

Tutta questa fiducia è inattesa e forse immeritata, certamente sono inadeguato allo scopo, o almeno così mi sento. Non ho nemmeno il posto per tenere via tutto questo fieno. E non va bene per le mie caprette, l'ho venduto a uno che lo darà ai torelli, per loro è perfetto. Dovrò lavorare come un mulo per due lire. Pazienza, si fa lo stesso. E non basta, perchè una volta fatto tutto il terreno assegnato, "se ne avrai ancora voglia", di prato ce n'è ancora il doppio, il triplo, ce n'è a sufficienza per un medio allevamento.

Sono lusingato, onorato, un po' impaurito dalla mole di lavoro e terrorizzato all'idea di deluderlo.

Domani vado a trovarlo con un salame, una boccia di vino, e glielo dico.

Ci provo, Peppino.
Grazie per la fiducia accordata.