I taught high school social studies for six years and loved shaking up stale perceptions of history. I became particularly fond of drawing on current research in archaeology and anthropology to teach Ancient History.
A bountiful harvest and no good place to put it.
In one lesson, I’d bring in a a jar of beans and a potato with so many sprouts it looked like an octopus (the fact that I always found one in my cupboard could have doubled as a cautionary lesson in the domestic arts). I’d show the students the potato. “Have you ever tossed a potato on a compost pile?” I asked. Most had, and it helped them understand the point I went on to make. It probably didn’t take a huge cognitive leap for ancient hunters and gatherers to figure out that tubers and seeds will sprout new plants. To be successful in gathering, they already had an intimate understanding of plants. Many archaeologists hypothesize that agriculture emerged as humans needed and chose to take more control over where tubers and seeds sprouted. The knowledge to do so existed long before.
Then I’d show students the jar of beans. It represents what was perhaps a more revolutionary leap in human history. Recent research in Jordan has found strong evidence that sophisticated storage mechanisms predated and spurred development of plant domestication.
(During the six years I taught Ancient History, I also reminded my students again and again not to get too attached to any particular explanation. New evidence or interpretations in the future might change the picture).
Peppers drying over woodstove with some garlic in bags behind.
That was all fun to talk about in the classroom several years ago. Now I’m growing some of my own food and living in a yurt for part of each year. The challenges of storing food are more immediate.
Since we aren’t able to mobilize labor forces like the ancients, Jerry spent yesterday on a backhoe digging out an area to build a root cellar. We could have used it earlier this year. I lost part of my garlic crop for lack of good places to keep it out of extreme heat, sun (and later, cold). What survived is still plentiful and hanging all over the walls of the yurt or stored in boxes on the floor. I put off my potato harvest so I only had to have the ugly paper bags on the floor for a week before we closed up the yurt and moved back to Portland for the winter. I’ll harvest carrots and beets tomorrow, just before we leave.
There are also the apples falling from the old trees now. It’s not that they go to waste. Bear and deer make sure none are left to rot. But it would be nice to have some stored for winter pies. And there are jars of tomato and applesauce, grape juice and salsa on the shelves of our shipping container shed and various jars of brined vegetables taking up all the space in the refrigerator. We’ll have to haul those back to Portland with us.
Food storage is not terribly glamorous (which is probably why history overlooks it), but I’m looking forward to that root cellar (and also a solar food dryer) our here as much as I am to indoor plumbing, a greenhouse, and maybe some day, a house.
Future root cellar
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