Mushrooming. A Workshop with an Expert: Alison Pouliot.

The thing about things worth doing is that they get done. Annnnnnnnd I take months to blog about them.

But, here:

Mention mushrooming to anyone and you will find, as I did, everyone has a great bit of advice; "if they look like cartoons, they're not edible", "if they're brown underneath they're good to eat", "my grandmother used to eat the ones that grew in the backyard, it'll be fine". Don't listen to that advice. 

If you've ever been interested in actually finding out anything about mushrooms and fungi you NEED to go along to an Alison Pouliot workshop. Alison knows everything there is to know. And she brought along a super impressive collection of mushrooms that she found around Central Victoria for us to look at. 

Now, I am a novice. I know nothing. So when we were presented with a box of mushrooms that had two varieties, one edible and one a poisonous doppelgänger, I said "Oh, mine looks waaaaay tastier than yours does" and out in the wild that would make me dead. Or at least very ill (but I don't know if I'm up for eating Slippery Jacks just yet anyway, even if I do know they are edible their slimy top is still a little creepy). 

It pays to know, from a expert, what you're looking for. Turns out, many of the common mushrooms we forage for here in Australia have poisonous doppelgängers. And that most mushrooms are quite specific to regions, so if your Russian Nonna living down the street tells you that one is fine, she might be recalling that information from her childhood home and not factored into the equation the Aussie context. Do yo homework. 

It also fascinates me that our attitudes to mushrooms here in Australia are very limited and cautious, whereas in parts of Europe foraging for mushrooms is a common activity for families and they put a lot of effort and time into learning to identify mushrooms. Alison told us in Switzerland it is common for people to train as kind of regulators; these people need to be able to correctly identify hundreds of mushrooms. Closer to home, in Asia they eat a wide variety not simply limited to the button mushrooms you find in our local Woolies. We seem to have developed a fear of mushrooms here. Which is not unfounded given that the Death Cap mushroom here only takes a tiny amount ingested to start shutting down organs. Death Cap mushrooms grow in Castlemaine Botanical Gardens, y'all, so it's not an irrational fear. But still, the more you know the less you fear. 

More than just finding out how to identify some delicious, and some not so delicious, mushrooms I walked away with an entirely new found respect for the fungi community. Their contribution to our ecosystems is massive and largely unrecognised: they enable trees to communicate, they improve soils and they have symbiotic relationships that shape landscapes. Also, they need to keep their hats* on perfectly straight. (*hats is not the scientific name, it just makes them sound cuter).  

Pine forests are a new adventure to me now I know that the Milky Saffron Cap Mushrooms are there for the picking and eating. Mushroom risotto never tasted so good, or free. (Free from anxiety now that I can also recognise a Death Cap). 

This thing worth doing is not worth doing badly. You could die. I'm so glad I found an expert who is so passionate to help me discover this new skill. Thanks Alison, I would could not recommend your workshop enough.

The Thing: Basket Weaving

The Lost Trades Fair set me all-a-buzz with the need to weave a cane basket. I had purchased a sweet little kit to make my 'Your First Basket' from And Woven Cane, with the ill-thought-out brainwave to head to the nearest craft supply shop to buy a second lot of all the materials so Jess and I could make one each. I went to said nearest craft shop: no cane. I went to the second and third nearest craft shops and they didn't have any either. Neither did any of the hardware shops. At this point I risked a massive over-investment of time in this project. Decisive action: our 'Your First Basket' would be a collaborative thing.

Basket Weaving Lesson #1: Purchase basket weaving supplies from the interwebs.  Wicker-Works Cane Specialists seems a good place to start, although their little catch phrase asks, "need a good caning?" An attempt at humour? Dubious, at best.

We set aside a morning for this little project, which was perfect. From start to finish it took us about 3 hours; this included a couple of pots of tea, innumerable interruptions from the little ones and a break for honey sandwiches. Remove those things, as well as the hundred times we stopped weaving to marvel at just how badly our little basket was progressing, and we could probably get it down to an hour and a half. Although why we would want to do this is beyond me. The interruptions just add to the fun.

While the weaving techniques for this basket were as simple as it gets, there were still a multitude of ways to make mistakes. Pull too tight and your basket tapers in, too loose and it gets flimsy. Bend the cane too sharply and it breaks. Don't push each row down firmly enough (and firmly means REALLY FIRMLY. Like lumberjack-hands firmly) and your basket is gappy and uneven. Ignore how many rows of seagrass they suggest in the instructions and your basket turns out much taller than the one in the picture...

Weaving with cane is no delicate pastime. It's hard on your fingers and, while you have to be deft and gentle, you also have to be strong and decisive with your movements. The cane isn't nearly as maleable as it appears when you watch a skilled craftsperson working. 

Our basket turned out to be, well...quite quaint. There is no better word for it. We gazed, awestruck, for a while at our finished product and wondered why we made it in the first place, given that we had no real purpose for it. If it had a handle it might be good for collecting things in. If it was prettier it might serve as something ornamental or make for a sweet little gift. We popped a few different things in it (the elderflower looks great in it, but it serves no practical purpose whatsoever) and decided that it is perfect for holding walnuts. That's right guys. We made a walnut basket.  

So here are some questions:

• Can we make a basket that's lovely and practical enough to proudly give as a gift? So, you know, one that's lovelier and more practical that this one.
• If I needed a basket, would I be more likely to make one than buy one pre-made?
• Are there more readily available alternatives to cane that we can use in our future baskets?
• Aside from the Lost Trades Fair, where to basket weavers hang out?

And a broader question for the philosophers out there:

• Can we justify spending time on craft when there is no real purpose for the product?

Which inevitably leads to:

• What is the meaning of life?

I think it's clear where this Thing is heading: We'll get busy addressing these questions, and then the challenge is to make a basket from readily available materials that's attractive and useful enough to give proudly as a gift. We have a bit of work to do, to be completely honest.

The Thing: The Lost Trade Fair

A trip to Kyneton on any given day is bound to be a pleasure, but what better reason to take off down the Calder than to attend The Lost Trades Fair? If you missed it this year I recommend you pencil it in your diary for 2018. It's held on the long weekend in March and seriously, it was the greatest.

It was a shame that Jess couldn't accompany me to the fair (mainly because she's great company but also partly because I need her to take photos because mine are rubbish), but luckily I had a willing companion: Dad.

In a fit of planning and organisation I bought our tickets online, which turned out to be a winner. We whizzed straight through the gate while the line to purchase tickets stretched for hundreds of people; a testament to the awesome event this fair has already become since its inception in 2014.

From the moment we walked through the gate we were buoyed by the atmosphere. There was a terrific crowd but it was pleasantly relaxed. People came here to spend time milling about, watching the craftspeople at work, talking to them, taking photos and buying the beautiful things on offer.

Dad is somewhat of a lost-tradesman (not sure about the hyphenation; I needed to distinguish between that and a tradesman who is lost) himself. He studied as a civil engineer and worked his four decade long career in local government. He started out with traditional tools of the trade: slide rules, 7 figure log tables, scale rules, drawing boards, t-squares and a pencil. Erasing shield, linen and ink for plans, manual dumpy level, theodolite.

Over the decades though these tools were superseded by, you know, technology. Calculators and computers and the like. It's understandable that he would be a bit nostalgic about how things used to be. Had he set up a workstation at this fair to draw plans of bridges or houses or whatever other mysterious things civil engineers used to draw by hand, he would have been immediately at home with his own crowd gathering to watch him work.

We wandered the length and breadth of the fair over a few hours. We laughed at the number of times we said to each other, "Oh! We could do that!" When you see the tools laid out in front of you with all the materials ready to go, and the experts doing their craft with apparent ease, you really do feel like you could just pick it up yourself. In actual fact we couldn't do 'that' with even a small fraction of the precision, finesse and efficiency that these craftspeople had, but it didn't stop us feeling like we could, and like we desperately wanted to.

With a barrow load of self-discipline I restrained myself and left the fair with only one project: basket weaving. The basket to be woven is small and humble, and appropriately named 'Your first basket'. Rest assured you will read about how it (un)ravels here in the relatively near future.

I wonder what it is about a craft that draws one to it? I found myself gravitating towards the crafts of stone and paper and wood. Letterpress, book binding, stone masonry, spoon carving (which reminds me: we will come back to whittling - we promise!), printing. If I had to narrow it down to the one trade that stood out to me the most, I would have to say it was Colen Clenton, the maker of set squares, cutting gauges, planes and the like, made from wood and brass. I love the fact that these people make the tools that others use for their own trade. They are in the trade of making the tools of other trades. And they need their own tools of the trade to achieve this. Amazing!

Dad was particularly taken by a gentleman who was doing sign writing. He had a brush and a mahl stick (*internet search term: signwriters wooden stick with a rubber stopper on the end) that he rested on the window to steady his arm. With deft flourishes, he wrote some fancy text and scrawled out an eagle. Just like that! As a left-hander who struggles to draw a stick figure on a whiteboard**, this is pretty darned impressive.

The Lost Trades Fair was a perfect celebration of the things that Jess and I are trying to champion here. You know, those things that set our roots deeper into our communities and our place in this world. Tasks/work/crafts that take time, that improve with continued application, and that are built around some sort of necessity. And the event itself was a place to meet, connect and inspire. It's a beautiful thing. It really is.



*Where I once would have said "I Googled such and such..." I now should write "I Ecosia searched such and such..." Ecosia is now my default browser for online searches. Search the interwebs, plant a tree. Winning. Jess got me onto it in this post.

** Yes, I'm a teacher, and yes, I should be better at this most vital aspect of my profession. I almost failed the chalkboard test at uni. No, I didn't go to uni in the middle ages, and no, I don't know why they were still using chalkboards in the New Millenium. But hey, that's what my HECS was paying for.

Day Six of Womankind's Combat Global Warming Challenge: Jess

Global Warming is REAL.

Even NASA think so.

Changing the way society is organised is HARD.

Just ask Rosa Parks.

Or the Wik People.

Today as I was contemplating an article that the lovely Leanne sent to me titled "Conscious consumerism is a lie". Look. Ok. So the little things perhaps make only a little difference. But it goes to the heart of the issue here - global warming has been happening for a LONG time. We've been damaging this planet for a LONG time. While my bamboo toothbrush will not change the world, my plastic one will ruin it more.

When I was growing up eggs were eggs. Now we know the conditions the chickens had to lay those eggs in just by looking at the packet; free range, cage free, or not specified (read: cage). If people buying more free range and asking questions about conditions didn't change an entire industry, what would? We're kidding ourselves if we think industry or government will make these changes without consumer pressure. Aren't we? Time Magazine thinks we consumers can have an impact: read this: 5 Times Big Business Actually Bowed to Pressure from Consumers .

 

These choices we make matter, the little things add up. So today as I was cleaning out my house and considering all the crap that I own I decided that, yes, I would donate the things in good working order that I no longer need. Because if they are loved a little longer perhaps that will keep them out of the ground for a little longer too. Yes I will continue to use bamboo toothbrushes and make my own bench top spay from vinegar. Yes I will try.

I thought that the thing about the small actions is that they actually take EFFORT and CONSIDERATION and ORGANISATION. They are often not CONVENIENT. But they offer HOPE.

And if we have learnt anything in the last 10 years, it's that HOPE is motivating. HOPE is energising.

So I choose today to ignore the fact that the small things may be small in the face of the bigger picture and instead look to those small things to bring me energy, motivation and hope. And to hopefully help push this titanic around (which... may have sunk BECAUSE of an unusual warm year in 1908 which increased the number of icebergs in 1912...).

source: treehugger.com - Leo Lin, Taiwan 2009 

Day Five of Womankind's Combat Global Warming Challenge: Leanne

I started Day 5 of this challenge by cleaning my oven with highly corrosive chemicals. I don't know what came over me. I haven't cleaned it in the entire five years I've lived in this house. I probably could have done it with nothing but a lemon, some bicarb and the grease from my elbows (an odd term, in my mind. My elbows are like dry old elephant skin. Who has these much-talked-about greasy elbows?), but the chemicals were there, so I used them. The dirty oven felt like a metaphor for my life, and cleaning it felt like I was fixing everything that it represented. How is this relevant? It's not. But if I clean my oven I'm going to make a bloody big deal about it.

I followed the oven cleaning with making my own cheese. Again, if I'm going to make cheese, you will hear about it. I don't do these things quietly. I do them loudly so that you will think I'm the kind of person who makes cheese, and the kind of person who cleans my oven. 

The cheese making is highly relevant to the global warming challenge though.

    
I often equate making things from scratch with doing right by the planet. The cheese today made me rethink this lazy mathematics. Get this: to avoid buying a block of cheese (processed in a factory, packaged in plastic, transported who knows how far), I heroically set out to make my own. To do so, I had to buy milk (processed in a factory, packaged in plastic, transported who knows how far), cream (processed in a factory, packaged in plastic, transported who knows how far), milk powder (yep, you get the idea) and rennet. What favours am I doing the planet here? Seriously?

Anyway, the process was enjoyable and I learnt a lot and that's all very well and good, but it's probably not a sustainable solution to reduce my impact on climate change unless I can source the ingredients in a more sustainable way. My point is that, while our intentions might be noble, it's important that we don't make lazy assumptions about the good things we are trying to do. We need to make sure our energy (which in most of us is limited) is going where it will have some real positive impact, no matter how small.

Into the future

I will stop sulking about the fact that I feel powerless to make any change. I will start lobbying my MPs for immediate climate change action. I will continue to avoid meat (will I be a long-term vegetarian? I don't know) and continue to do all the other small, day-to-day things that are in my power to control. 

I haven't found this an easy challenge. It has put me face to face with some uncomfortable and terrifying truths about the world. It has put me face to face with my own hopelessness, helplessness and apathy, but it has also pushed me (with the invaluable input of Jess) to move beyond them, if only just in baby steps.

Thanks Womankind. I can't wait to see the contributions of others that you publish. I'll prepare to be inspired. xx

Day Four of Womankind's Combat Global Warming Challenge: Leanne

Ok, Imagine you have this massive lake that you need to empty (I don't know why. That's not relevant. Stay with me.) If you take a cup full of water out of this massive lake, the volume of water in the lake decreases, even though the decrease is almost negligible, yes? And if you continue taking cups of water for long enough, or if you get enough people taking cups at the same time, eventually the lake will become empty. Correct? Things get a little more complicated when there's inflow as well, but you get the idea.

I'll leave you with that thought for a moment.

Today (4/3/17) I traveled to Melbourne for a 1st birthday party, which was an absolute joy. I left early and returned late and did very little in between to 'combat' global warming. 'Combat' conjures images of fighting and striving and opposing with mighty vigour. I took the train, walked all over the city, stayed vegetarian and refused a bottle of water that was offered to me, but that is literally it. Hardly a fighting spirit, is it?

In the city today I realised that there are lots of people in the world. LOTS.  And many, many, many of them are driving cars, flying in planes, buying things, drinking bottled water, living in huge houses, wearing almost disposable clothes, chucking recyclable and compostable things in the rubbish, getting their shopping in plastic bags, eating highly processed foods...the list goes on.

But you know what? Many, many, many of them are occupying only a small piece of land, riding their bikes, walking, eating local and seasonal food, recycling, making do with what they already have, mending their clothes and drinking tap water. They compost, they grow food, they turn off the lights and they avoid single use plastic.

My point is this. The water in the lake analogy can feel like a hopeless situation when you consider the tiny insignificant difference a cup or water makes, and when you think about the sheer number of cups you'd have to remove to make any noticeable difference. But it can work in the positive too: the only way to empty the lake is by removing water. And a large volume of water is comprised of smaller volumes of water; you can't remove a huge volume without removing many, many smaller volumes.

This is not new or interesting, but it is vital in this fight against global warming. We must believe that our small contributions combine with other small contributions to make a worthwhile collective. As individuals, we are only ultimately able to control our own actions. But just because we can't control the actions of others (ie. make them care about this issue and actually do something about it), doesn't mean we should get all huffy about the insignificance of our own small actions and abandon them altogether.

Day Five of Womankind's Combat Global Warming Challenge: Jess

Get on ya bike y'all. It's super fun.

Saturdays is Dad's day with the boys and they jump into our cargo bike for the morning and head off to a park, or to visit Granny and Poppy, or go the library. 

When our second car died earlier this year we decided to get a Dutch Cargo Bike as a replacement. It was firstly a economic decision and secondly it was a lifestyle decision. We didn't use the second car that much or to travel long distances so it has worked out perfectly. Today I used the car and the boys used the bike. They did everything they would have done, just in the beautiful sunshine with toddler cries of "I loooooove downhill, Daddy" as the soundtrack. Monday it's back to me and the boys on the bike and Dad taking the car to work. We'll go visit a friend, go to the park, go to swimming lessons.

People think we're nuts. Like batshit crazy. "But what if..." is all they could say when we were floating the idea. They all wanted to find reasons that it wasn't a good idea. 

You know what it made me realise? We're all judging one another for our choices: AND THAT'S A GOOD THING. Judge away, my friends. Because if it makes you question why, or realise that perhaps that change isn't so crazy, or reflect on your values maybe that's a good thing. And settle down my kind hearted freaking out friends, we still have a car, we're just sharing it with each other. 

A bike instead of a car is fun*, and to boot it is an excellent alternative to a car which is goooooood for the planet. This good if you want to know, example one of about a billion: "Cycling 10km each way to work would save 1500kg of greenhouse gas emissions each year". 

(*ask me again in winter...) 

source: grainedit - Gavin Potenza