We might all be excused for losing track of the seasons
lately. Between El Niño, climate chaos, ‘tis
the season for savings jingles, and election campaigns that begin 500+ days
out, you may be looking to lay a hand on some good, ripe (& throwable)
fruit. If so, the Falling Fruit Project is a good place to start.
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This is a crowdsourced global map of neighborhood fruit
trees, gardens, mushroom patches, dumpsters, and other local edibles. They list
over 1,000 different species in multiple languages (plus Linnaean
nomenclature), from apples (malus domestica) to zulu figs (ficus lutea).
Here’s my neighborhood, where we’ve been looking for the nearest peaches,
putting some apples and plums on the map, and carefully leaving others off.
This has all resulted in us bringing home boxes and boxes of
apples, mostly from around our own block, drying them into chips, sealing jars of
applesauce, pressing them into cider, and baking loads of pies.
Through a lot
of this, I’ve been sort of haunted by two songs. One is my friend George singing Patty Griffin’s “Making Pies,”
ten years ago on the deck of a yurt in Pigeon Hollow.
The other is Joe Hill’s “Pie in the Sky,” alternatively known as “The Preacher and the Slave.” Here are a couple very good versions.
The other is Joe Hill’s “Pie in the Sky,” alternatively known as “The Preacher and the Slave.” Here are a couple very good versions.
Earlier this year we went to a Labor Day commemoration of the 100th anniversary of Joe Hill’s execution by firing squad in Sugarhouse. There were folk singers shouting from an outdoor stage, food trucks with fusion noodle bowls and fancy mac & cheese, AFLCIO info booths, plenty of overalls and anarchist t-shirts, dogs and frisbees. Saltgrass Printmakers and Ken Sanders Books were also there. It rained off and on.
