In The Weeds: Gallant Soldier

The difference between a weed and a flower is judgment. Or maybe just attention. Who – other than the gardeners who spend hours uprooting them – really thinks about weeds? Weeds are tenacious growers, always looking for new ways to survive where they’re not wanted. Although most are unassuming, they always carry rich histories and often have potent properties. Learning about these overlooked plants can teach us about spontaneity, endurance, and healing. Every two weeks, I’ll find out everything I can about a local (to wherever I am at the time) weed that’s in season so that we can become better acquainted with one of our quiet but powerful neighbors.

Context is everything. In Colombia, guascas are an essential ingredient in a chicken and potato stew called ajiaco. In the U.S., gallant soldiers are organic gardeners’ worst nightmare. No matter what you call them, Galinsoga parviflora are probably the cutest members of the daisy family.

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Fucking Pansies!

Next time someone tries to tell you that queer and trans folks have taken our identities too far, give them a botany lesson. Plants are SO queer, y’all.

Before we get into all the very exciting sexualities that plants have, let’s talk about their sexy parts. If you’ve ever taken a 6th grade science class, you’ve probably learned about the “male” and “female” parts of plants. Since we’ve all come to recognize that there’s nothing inherently “male” about sperm or “female” about eggs, it’s about time for a vocab rehab. I’m excited about all the trans and queer plant-lovers out there who are rethinking ways that we can talk about and learn from plants. Today, I’m going to talk about “stamens” and “pistils,” and I can’t wait to see what we come up with in the future.

With that in mind, let’s hop in the Magic School Bus and learn all about plants’ bits.

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Love the Way You Lye: You Can Use Lye Without Burning Yourself Silly

mmm, lutefisk

mmm, lutefisk

Lye is dangerous stuff. If you’ve ever thought about making soap (or lutefisk, ew) but have been too scared, allow me to assuage your fears. If lye were a Ghostly Gondolier who haunts Venice, I would be the Scooby-Doo team who shows up to reveal that the boatman is really just an loser who wants to steal valuable medallions. By way of a clumsy metaphor, I’m trying to say that understanding what makes lye so scary can be a great way to face your fears.

The Ghostlier Gondolier is nothing but a wimp named Mario

The Ghostlier Gondolier is nothing but a wimp named Mario

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Conversion Aversion: Dealing With The English System of Measurement

 

The other day, I saw this handy conversion chart on The Kitchen:tumblr_n5w9ukYfmz1qzzlrvo1_1280

I loved the idea, but decided that it was a little complicated to read when I wanted to convert more than a single unit. Since I’ve been working on nailing down recipes – and not just mixing a little of this and a little of that and getting frustrated when I end up with exactly what I want and no idea how to duplicate it – for salves, deodorant, and chapstick, I thought I might go ahead and make charts for myself.

The volume chart includes “English” (because as far as I can tell, Americans are the only ones stupid enough to measure in cups and pints) and metric measurements, as well as drops if you’re using something pungent like an essential oil. It also includes common items that approximate each unit of measurement since not all of us know what a quart looks like.

volume conversions

Click for a full-sized image

Luckily, mass is not quite as complicated. Most of us are familiar with what an ounce and pound feel like, if not a gram.

When measuring for body products, mass is really the best way to ensure that you’re mixing proper ratios. A tablespoon of beeswax, for example, weighs half as much as a tablespoon of olive oil if you pack it lightly, but up to the same weight as olive oil if you pack it tightly or melt it. Cooking by mass doesn’t hurt either, but most American ingredients tend to be measured by volume.

Measuring by mass also reduces your clean up at the end. Rather than using a separate measuring cup or spoon or different ingredients, you can tare a scale to the cup you’re using to mix and throw everything in.

mass conversions

 

And As Long As It’s Talking With You, Talk of the Weather Will Do

Can I tell you something? Weather is something I just don’t understand.

I remember studying weather in 5th grade science. My teacher made us memorize that wind is caused the “the uneven heating of the earth by the sun.” The memorization part totally worked, but I still have exactly zero idea what that means.

don-quijote-picasso

Don Quixote and I are both confused about wind

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Eleven Things You Wish You Knew About Honeybees

I am not a person who likes bugs. I refuse to go camping out of fear that I’ll wake up with a spider dangling half an inch above my face. Ants marching in a straight line make me want to pull out a magnifying glass and fry them one by one as they come towards me. I’ve been known to take showers in the middle of the night after waking up from nightmares involving cockroaches lying eggs in different crevices in my house and body.

But bees? Bees are fascinating! Cute, even. I recently went on a road trip with my friend, Molly, to visit her family — including her bee-keeping dad, Jack — in New England. After two days of eating honey on toast, on spoons, and on a giant pancake, we got to go out and play with the bees.

The dutch baby pancake

The dutch baby pancake

I spent the entire 30 minute ride out to the farm pestering Jack with questions like a kindergardener.

Where do you get bees?

They come in the mail.

How much honey do you get every year?

Two years ago we harvested 15 gallons but last year we only got 2.

Have you ever been stung?

Yes. 

We went to two of his hives, one where the bees had died from not having enough to make it through the winter (although, bafflingly, an entire lower drawer of honeycomb had been entirely ignored by the bees who ate from bottom to top and died in droves near the top) and another mean-ass colony who were still alive and kicking in 15 degree weather. After an afternoon spent poking around the hives, I went home with a plan for my retirement, a jar full of Jack’s Gold, and a head full of bee knowledge that I can’t wait to tell you about.
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