Presenting the 2018 Wisconsin Permaculture Convergence schedule.
We must take responsibility for our existence as permaculture practitioners' and purveyors. To work within our human social structures to respectfully share this idea where it is most needed. We need to take responsibility in the ways we purvey and practice permaculture itself in the language and living models we choose to use. Treat the idea of permaculture carefully.
This is why I spent the last few evenings cutting up tree branches to make a couple hundred name tags. Because for me, the Convergence is about learning and teaching and sharing. But mostly, it’s about getting to know new people and reuniting with old friends. And the one thing we all have in common, besides interest in Permaculture, is we each have a name
For about as many years as I have been going to the summertime Wisconsin Permaculture Convergence, I have also attended in the wintertime Wisconsin Garden Expo.
In February 2018, I attended my fifth Expo. On Saturday, while talking with someone who stopped by the Madison Area Permaculture Guild booth about the books we had for sale and what the Guild does, I discovered many similarities between both annual events.
I came to learn of permaculture following my third year of graduate studies in a rural Vermont community. The concept entered my consciousness at a community meeting of farmers bitterly devastated by the August 2011 tropical storm Irene. Families had lost everything. Our community writhed in the reality that such destruction was likely to be the new reality unless society were to abruptly change the course of its relationship to the natural world; many community members were also coping with the profound reality that insurance companies would fight their settlement claims at every opportunity. While this alone precluded numerous farms from planting crops ever again, the several feet of newly deposited toxic sludge on their soils secured the same fate for many more. Yet, at this meeting one older gentleman, who had grown food crops for local coops for far longer than I had been alive, spoke passionately of hope. This man declaimed of endless opportunity as if he had just harvested a record bumper crop securing his own retirement. Yet his farm, too, had suffered the wrath of Irene.
From behind this aged but sturdy man’s quintessential Vermont beard came concepts of regenerative design, resilience planning, and water reticulation. Fascinated, I connected with my community to learning more about the both the vision for their future and also the specifics of what a transition must look like to take a community from devastation to regeneration. Purposefully attending the meeting to inform folks of their possible legal strategies for recourse against their insurance companies, I left intrigued by a seemingly powerful ecological approach to community restoration of both the land and the economy. Further, I left profoundly inspired by the hopeful energy of so many in the face of such hardship. It wasn’t until a full year later shortly after completing my studies, when my own family faced losing our Wisconsin family farm to the socially contrived malaise that is the destructive economic storm of urban sprawl and development that I circled back to the memories of that meeting. If permaculture was to rebuild that community network of farms, then couldn’t it also stand to defend our family’s farm from this looming threat? Now with family on board, I dove into the permaculture rabbit hole excitedly gathering information and engaging with what I now realize is a global community of regenerative agriculturalists. With my brother, who is now running the family farm with his remarkable wife, we began to feverishly take in as much as we could on the subject. We would read for days, run out to the fields to build a hugelkulture bed, return sweaty, tired and ready to read some more. We literally stuffed our minds with as much information as we could, constantly toeing the line of analysis paralysis. Alas, the third-generation farm remains in the family and supports while being supported by his family and our community is myriad ways.
Looking back with new words to place in context, I see that what my family was engaged in at that time is embodied in the principles of permaculture. In 2002, David Holmgren, co-founder of Permaculture, published a book that concretely articulated twelve working principles for permaculture design.
In Permaculture: Principles and Pathways Beyond Sustainability, Holmgren synthesized what for many years stood as a list of amorphous speculations, loosely developed theories, and sometimes euphemistic words that served to loosely guide the designer towards a cohesive work product. This new set of principles has, with time, become the new “conceptual lens” focusing the work of designers and the greater permaculture community on better design. Observe & Interact is the first of these principles.
As Peter Bane writes in The Permaculture Handbook: Garden Farming for Town and Country (2012), “[g]athering information is the beginning of any design, design the beginning of any responsible action.” This is the essence of Holmgren’s first principle. Through observation of and interaction with a landscape or social structure, the designer is able to pick up bits of information, discover clues, and begin to understand the natural indicators and metrics that will inform good design. A “protracted and thoughtful” relationship with a system, as Bill Mollison points out, is one that requires an ethical awareness that the observer is both a part of the system and a means of intervention with that system. It also, quite powerfully, acquaints the observer with the presence of pattern. The awareness of system patterns opens the door to increasingly effective system intervention.
A thoughtful and protracted relationship with a system inherently results in a heightened awareness, and even a spiritual connection with one’s place. It is a relationship that not only forms the foundation of good system design, but also enables an ongoing and deep understanding of the health and wellbeing of that system. One might even say that observing and interacting with systems is what causes one to fall in love with and then actively nurture love for a place.
With my academic background in environmental law and policy, I find myself thinking about and studying the subject through the conceptual lens of the principles of permaculture. Instead of looking at a law and/or policy on its face, I am far more interested by the trends of movement of the law and policy; I am interested in where the contemporary legal frameworks are situated in the historical context over time. By understanding where the law has been you can more accurately understand and anticipate where it may be going. This reveals, in a sense, a hierarchy of potential intervention. If, say, one legal doctrine is trending favorably towards environmental health, community sovereignty, and independence, while another is trending divergently towards subjugation, dependence and degradation then perhaps more resources ought to be directed towards intervening in the trend of the latter doctrine and fewer towards the earlier. It is true that similar to a protracted and thoughtful relationship with a visible landscape, an engaged kinship with our social, or invisible, structures yields analogous results.
So how does one observe and interact? Naturalist John Muir Laws articulates three prompts to facilitate deep observation and thoughtful interaction in a student new to the idea. He proposes one articulate their observation verbally to themselves as “I notice… I wonder… and it reminds me of…” Using these prompts, Laws suggests, “keeps observations in conscious working memory long enough for your own brain to convert them to long term memories.” It is those long term memories the serve as the basis for pattern recognition. So whether we are applying the skill of observation to our social systems, our physical systems or both, it is critical that we bring a curious, open mind willing to learn intellectually, emotionally and spiritually as we engage deeper with our context. It is curiosity after all, that brought formulaically minded third year law student to embrace a new and deeper relationship with not only the law, but also the entire natural world.
Going on seven years after the community wreckage of tropical storm Irene in Vermont, reports from my former community are positive. There are several new locally owned businesses that vigorously support the regenerating network of farms and collectively work to build resiliency both ecologically and socially.
The community rallied behind farmsunsuccessful in their struggle with rapacious insurance companies and many have rebuilt to remain as integral threads of that community’s vibrant fabric. My own protracted and thoughtful engagement with that community has gifted me the resonant feeling of home when I think of it, even six years after relocating.
I would like to conclude with words Vandana Shiva shared at the 2017 International Permaculture Convergence in India where she professed to a room of designers “our work will become more relevant the deeper the greed becomes. Our work will become more relevant the deeper the ecological crises becomes.” I share, with the same hopeful vision of the hardened, quintessentially bearded Vermonter who stood in the face of havoc and despair to enunciate to powerful vision for moving forward, that we ought, then, to boldly embrace a shared goal of our own work’s future irrelevance.
During the last few years, I have found myself noticing sustainability practice in action, and in many cases where a little thought could have gone a long way to help something be more sustainable. Before I get into a couple of these examples, I thought it might be a useful thing to define sustainability. We throw this word around a lot, but what does it really mean?
This weeks 2018 session leader feature is on Johnathan Dodd. Johnathan resides with his family at New Earth Farm & Goods, a 5 acre polyculture farm that boasts diversified perenials, fungi, and multi-species grazing. He has taken root and planted in Papillion, NE for the past 6 years, alongside his spouse and three children.
When I was five years old, in 1976, my parents moved our family of five from our safe, stable and economically viable lives just outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to a 140 acre farm overlooking the rolling hills of Western Wisconsin's Driftless region where we threw safety, stability and economic viability out the barn door. What I got in return was a tremendous sense of self reliance, which is not self-sufficiency, a conversation we could have at the convergence coming up in September. My family also got to meet and learn from our new neighbors and others who recently moved to the area, because in those days, and in those parts, there was no Amazon and no one had every piece of equipment or every bit of knowledge required to cultivate the land and care for livestock. This is a long way to say that little did I know our move introduced me to my first permacuture community and principles and I didn't even know it.
As we plan for the fifth Wisconsin Permaculture Convergence, I’ve also enjoyed thinking about the previous four. I love that the convergence offers many different types of activities; homesteading workshops such as how to make yogurt or raise chickens; construction skills such as how to make your own cooking gas or build a rocket stove; or social skills such as how to conduct a World Café.
For this blog post, I’ll share highlights from the last four years. The first year the convergence was held at the same location we’re holding the 2018 event, near Rio, Wisconsin. That year we organized several earthworks projects. The first was digging a pond by hand, lining it and getting it ready to add aquatic plants. The other earthwork project was on a much larger scale. Convergence participants used both a water level and laser level to identify keylines, after which we hired an excavator to create a water catchment system. It was great to turn ideas into an actual permaculture design.
The second permaculture convergence was held at Bur Oak Farm near West Bend in Eastern Wisconsin. The highlight for me that year was our main speaker, Pandora Thomas. Pandora co-founded the Black Permaculture Network, and spoke about the importance of diversity in and around permaculture.
The third convergence was held at Kinstone Megalith Garden, in Wisconsin’s driftless region on the west side of the state. While I didn’t stay for the whole thing, I think the coolest workshop was learning how to butcher a hog. People got to see many of the steps and techniques to prepare a pig for consumption and freezer storage.
Hello and welcome... my name is Effie and I have volunteered for the Wisconsin Permaculture Convergence for the past three years and am entering my fourth. If you have attended the event, we probably met at the welcome tent for event registration. I have had a great experience meeting so many different people interested in and purveying permaculture. It is inspiring to listen to and learn of your stories and adventures.
It is a gift to converge with others in our local region and I find experiencing this event completing fulfilling. It renews me to be around so much good energy working towards the common goal of creating and building sustainable environments. The event itself continues to fuel my passion for permaculture and the planning helps me stay connected with my permaculture peers.