Yeah Corn

Vois la!

Pumpkin Stolen!

Miss Brewer with green onions

Yo my compost is out of control and feeds the super-sleek groundhogs who have grown to have magnificent coats

Nice little front shot with enticing pumpkin

Mad Beans

This one got snatched a day later

This one's still cool/hidden

I don't care if anyone steals the pumpkin. I only care if they steal the big tomatoes.

they can steal anything they want- I have money to buy groceries.... I just hope that the people who take the pumpkin have an opinion-altering experience, a conscience shift, or some new urge to do it themselves. It would be harder to lift the damn gourdes than it would be to plant them and grow them to this size! Not ready for pie yet, and vines are growing into the street.

D.I.Y. Grass Cutting!

I would like to convince the owner of the lot that long grass is "cool", but he'd think i was looking for an excuse to be lazy. There is a difference between being lazy and "over-doing it", where in I lie - in the grass! Cutting it does help to take inventory of lot contents. In this case cutting the grass is like a magician pulling up his sleeves, or like an arrestee welcoming a frisking. Why is it that we assume dereliction, impulsivity, and epicureanism with long hair, and the same for long grass? What decadent grass, what random grass, what a drummer-in-a-band grass. Maybe my lot just needed lots of time to think, but now it was time.

Before

After

More cut grass

with a machete!


May freak-out neighbors, but this is how i've been doing it since december. I started with a kitchen knife, doing it at night. A car once parked outside a neighbor's house and made me a little self-conscious. The police had been round, slowed down and kept going, so i figured it was legal-enough. Sure it's dangerous, and bad for the back, but Lukas Strzelec once relayed to me a phenomenon he had experienced during a stint in Ghana. There, it was not uncommon to see people out on their lawns, cutting grass with a machete, scythe, or a "big knife". The rhythm such chores like that and others required (things done by hand) moved him to postulate that rhythm commonly seen in dancing and in relation to sound stems in a large part from us using our bodies as machines, performing repetitive movement. (Thinking about this since, I have also wondered whether Bossa Nova comes from the rhythm of 2-cylinder engines interpreted by an ear accustomed to Samba.) Does the rhythm of slimming lawns with a blade translate through the body as a means of coordinating the limbs with one another, "congealing" the motor system via the introduction of choreographed impulses? I think Luke was onto something. Let's just look at all of the dances of old days, and try to abstract a task from their movement. What the fuck were those germans doing bending their knees while bringing up their elbows!? I dont know. I could make a conjecture, but it would offend my german readership. JK. Another wealth of evidence for Strzelec's theory comes from the anecdotal observation that it's not hard to get someone to dance by asking them to adapt a complex routine they now consider perfunctory, this time to the music. Take "the dish scrub", "the ironing long pants", "the shopping cart", "the bus driver", "the cyclist". It is not surprising, though i haven' noticed until now that it was Strzelec, himself, who, in his characteristically tempered exuberance, had demonstrated for me "the lawn mower" some time ago. Oh ho ho, the times we had...ho ho. Anyway, I haven't noticed any cross-over from grass cutting to better rhythm of any sort, but I do find that whilst in the act, I take to a shuffle reminiscent of the dance from the wedding scene in the film version of Fiddler on the Roof (know what i'm talkin about?). There could be more on this task, but using the machete is getting easier.

Luke's current blog is at http://yinzinmali.wordpress.com/ he's in Mali

D.I.Y. mustard?

Mustard seed pods. Allowed to dry and get tan colored. They are very brittle and will, via evolutionary-trickery, burst, allowing seeds to travel. Have them travel into a bowl.

Snap all the mustard seed-pods off and put them in a bowl and smash them, but not too much to get really little pieces. (this discovered after meticulously trying to peal them and shake the seeds out)

 Using a cheesecloth, shake shells and seeds over a bowl.

 A shit-ton's worth of mustard seed-pods. ----verdict: not worth it,,,,,,,,yet. next, mix with vinegar and salt (preferably sea), use your imagination->>>....>>>..>> mmmm, wow, what a wholesome mustard, so wholesome it will make Ball Park franks taste like they aren't the festering jibblets of a thousand abused mutants....

Mammoth Raccoon Seen

Even without glasses, Anna was able to spot this on the neighbor's roof. In buddha-like repose, absorbing sunlight with hands at sides, this is how chicken calories are being spent. Hard to tell from the photo, but this animal is bigger than the biggest house-cat, and smaller, just barely, than a full-grown german shepherd - but way fatter. Ps. Sorry for referring to the other, puny raccoon as a "bitch-face".  Just outside of the photo to the right and below is an old dog kennel which might be able to be converted into a chicken-coop since friends of my landlord say he will never agree to a coop. The house with the kennel is abandoned so if any neighbor (nay-bor) complains, (as I am told "the law against chickens is on a complaint basis")  the birds will be removed, but no-one will lose any money or face, and I won't need to claim any responsibility. Now the question, which is more aggravating, to have raccoons eat your chickens, or cops carry them away? Something not to think about as I make any plans toward commandeering the Kennel. My only focus should be making sure the raccoon can't repel into it from here.

Garden then/now photos

 Greenhouse winter/summer

 

Corn mid June/ August 6th

 Painted by Methodists from Grove City

 Pumpkins July 1st and August 6th

 

 young grape tomato June/daily Harvest of tomato August 6th (and young miscellaneous pepper)

 Beans, Chard and Tomatoes.

Raccoon Caught

We had wondered if it could have been ground hog that had done the deed. Ed made a spear, and almost killed one.  I put a rib from Wilson's, the most revered food item/delicacy in all of the North Side. I checked the trap the next day... 

I called animal control. A few hours later, it was gone. Kinda cute. Faith even came by to see it. Even squirming visibly vexed by its captivity, it played interestedly with a grass stalk Faith stuck in the cage. This passivity seemed to represent a lack of morals, as if honor would require being pissed or least unresponsive toward your captors. When i caught it I could not believe how small it was. It weighed as much as a pair of boots. The beast I had been describing to friends and coworkers must have inflated in my memory as my mind struggled to provide logic to the story of the chickens. This little bitch-face could not have downed 7 chickens in one night. Could it have?

The psychologist doing that study on mood disorders ( two post ago) jutted in after a pause indicating that the story had appropriately ended due to my lack of words. "A clear sign of hypomania" he said like a referee saying "strike three" or "home run". Fuck that guy. I'm never taking pills because of some chickens. Maybe a tums. Maybe something for salmonella poisoning. ciprofloxacin .

TO BE CONTINUED. well it' kinda done.

Faith and Becky

I first met Faith at the garden. She was living next door in a squat. She told me she had plants and my plans began to bloom. The idea of a community fertilized the seeds. As I got to know her, she showed me her house, told me about her travels including living in fabled caves in Greece, and eventually she came with us to get the chickens. She had her own chicken, which, as she described it more, degenerated the romantic agricultural quality into an odd fact. "Her name's Becky" She said, "She's blind". Her eyes then, clashed with my own as I switched from regarding to staring. Sure enough, a rescue from a farm west of Philly, Faith took Becky to Pittsburgh, to share in her journey. Faith is always journeying even staying still. I was glad she had the chicken, sorry Becky, since her living conditions were abismal, dismal, and mal; squalor. Moldy. Her house was named "Mold Squat," no electricity or water, a few windows and walls. She slept on an old couch on the third floor. Becky needed hand feeding and hand watering. Graffiti filled the moldy walls, frescos by Murph Dawg, a local legend, scrawlings by passers through. A studded jacket, piled high with fungus and ceiling plaster still sat in the coat rack in the foyer. She had an elaborate system of bottles, the pattern of which she would inspect upon entering to see if anyone had been there in her absence.

photos by Anna Brewer

Photos by Anna Brewer

Eventually she moved in with Verasi and Ed, to an established squat, and began working construction for cash and building the raft that she would eventually take down the Ohio River.

She was the first to find my chickens dead. A week later, Becky, tucked away in Mold Squat got ambushed in the afternoon. Only feathers were left. Verasi thought that Racoons would not enter an inhabited house. This isn't true. I neglected to remember the story of a family friend who was once bitten on the big toe by a raccoon as he slept in his bed. There must be some folklore that grants meaning to the intrusion of a raccoon into a home. I finally got the trap. The hunt for the raccoon began.

She's got two new chickens, and is on a raft right now with Collin and Verasi. Check out her blog at http://www.wewillnotdrown.blogspot.com !!

Chickens

I bought 8 chickens on a whim. Asked for an experience in which I had acted rashly, I told the story to a researcher who was studying mood disorders and wanted to see ifi was eligible as a subject. 3 chickens is what you are legally allowed to have in PGH if you have a permit. Although I did not get a permit, and did not ask my landlord, I figured they were a commodity that would trade quickly on craigslist if worst came to worst. I had started building a coop out of pallets I had got from behind home depot. Without drawing anything, this is what formed:

  The chickens from Chicora were a month old. We had 7 months to go, maybe more before they started laying. Three months into it, my upstairs neighbor told my landlord, because he said "the smell was too bad". This was some bullshit. He lived 2 floors away from them, and would not be able to smell them even if they were not having their cage cleaned every 2 days. His dogs crap was in a bin on my front porch, but I didn't say anything because he subtly hinted to me one day that he would call some board or another and that "they would not be happy to find out about it". He then berated my entire idea of chickens, and a garden, as he termed it "the movement". He later apologized, with the undermining stipulation that he had meant every word of his previous diatribe, and so I wish sterility on him and allow this blog to be a forum to express my thoughts on the behaviors of human beings in close quarters, which are often driven my primitive tendencies to instil and maintain a pecking order. What rubric we use to gain and fall is much more complicated than that of the chickens, at least more elaborate, though possibly the same hormones are released in the brain of my neighbor and a chicken. While a person tries to keep up with the jones's, the chickens strove to jump on top of one another. It was interesting to note, that the most dominant chicken died first. Speedy. The runt who took over as biggest dill-hole. He must have expressed his dominance to the Raccoon. I wish my neighbor (it feels improper to use the word, despite close proximity of living), who, thankfully, has moved, would express his dominance to a bus.

He and his friends who don't have the capacity for true compassion, or friendship, told me that I'd better get the chickens into the unfinished coop. They had already told my landlord, and fearing eviction I had already been to work on the coop for two days prior to our showdown. Now with legal repercussions of some mysterious government board, I flew to the coop, working late into the night and moved all 8 of them in.

 A few months in the basement.

for 3 days I worked to provide them water and food, creating a cardboard feed dispenser and a over-turned bucket watering system. While I had acces to the back door to the coop, the chickens needed let in to the front door, which was within their enclosure. A little walkway lead to the door. Their door swung down with hinges above. Every night some of the fence was pulled apart, big enough for an arm to reach, so that the door could me fastened. Very important to get them in before dusk, before the animals come out. Then I went to Washington DC for a long planned trip. Since Anna was busy, I asked Faith, the neighbor who also had a chicken, to lock them up at night. Anna said she would help too. While I was away Anna let me know that animals were messing around with the coop, riling the chicks a few nights in a row and forcing her to go outside. She assured me they were fine. A few days later I called her and she told me they were all dead but one, "Chocobo" the littlest, a brown silky with "fuzzy boots" as the feet were referred to. A Raccoon I suspected was the culprit, since I had seen a big fella wandering around the abandoned houses in the alley. Must have gotten in through the whole used to latch their front hatch. When I got back, raccoon fur not matching any local cats was found on the wire fencing. The day after the first call, another. One chick, Anna told me, was killed in broad daylight, torn right through the 1 sq Inch fencing, resembling fancy processed meat with a feather boa on its way to the Copacabana, or some gay event.
Never got to figure out their sex's. They died, and a week later, So did faith's Chicken. My neighbor Charlie, told me he had a trap, and leant it to me. "Take it as long as you need it" he told me.

TO BE CONTINUED

Much has happened

The passing of time. Gardens do it themselves. That's what I figured starting a garden, and so it feels like I've done relatively little since last post. I've decided to post a few times in a row, as a means to organize the content of the photos. I had chickens for a little while. They died. The garden grew. I met some people (Faith and Collin). They moved. That is the table of contents for the upcoming posts.  The lead tests came back fine. I made 3 trips to the river view stables for manure. Here is the rest of the greenhouse going up in January or February.

Welcome to Brighton Garden

Thanks for visiting!

This blog is a place for people who want to get involved to post comments. Even if all you have is a criticism, go ahead and post. I want your feedback! If you want to:

drop off compost,
plant some food,
use the greenhouse,
build some stuff/paint/decorate,
share seeds,

Let me know what you want to see. So far, upcoming projects include:

Getting Tables/benches for a seating area and bus shelter
Medicinal Herb garden
Corn

If you have anything else you want to see, go ahead and do it. Feel free any time to get in there and take a look and imagine something.

I recently met a few Neighbors who lent a hand.

Faith, Dan, Ed and Verassi were gettin' dirty the other day. Ed put in some onions and Faith's got beans growing now. I also ran into Seth, a student from Pitt, and he was interested in doing more. Charlie said he'd drop off his compost. Denisia saw the garden and asked if I could plant some flowers by her front porch. I would definitely be down for traveling to people's houses to help them set something up. I've got flower seeds and more so let me know. 412 559 1088.

Claire from Landslide knows a lot about medicinal herbs and I'm hoping that with enough feedback we can get a class going.

A lot of other people have seen the lot and made comments. People often ask what I built. It's a greenhouse aka hothouse, and will keep "starter" plants warm until they're ready to plant. I also got a few chickens the other day. In a few month's they´ll be ready to lay, so if you want eggs. Let me know either on the site, on email, or call.

Email is benjaminrickles@gmail.com

I recently heard from Richard Strauss, that there are community grants available for Lot Beautification projects. I also heard about google grants. That would really come in handy, and the money would be put to good use.

You might have seen me out in the lot looking like a mad man to whip things into shape. My name's Ben Rickles. Just say hey.

check back for photos.

Peace, love and healthcare for all,
Ben

garden in the morning

 profile of greenhouse

 Garbage can being used-sweet.

 arable land

windows