From: Jason Mraz
Sent: Tuesday, March 07, 2017 3:05 PM
To: City Council
Subject: 7 generations thank you.
Dear Mayor Wood and honorable city council members,
I am writing today to ask for your grace and patience. As a resident of Oceanside for 13 years, I am excited about the Ag potential for our unique region.
I understand we are in a period of transition: from retiring farmer to new, from mono-crops to diversification, hass avocados to exciting specialties like coffee, wine and cannabis. With these new changes I believe much value will come to our region - so much so that I believe it will attract new growers and visitors to Oceanside.
I do understand the current landowners' need to make his/her ends meet, but I hope we have a little more time to implement the needed improvements while finding new customers/landowners to help honor and save our precious resourceful agricultural land.
Please don't be quick to allow a rezoning for medium or high density development. Please don't sell out Oceanside's precious green reserve. Once we pave over it, it's never coming back.
The museum tour at Mission San Luis Rey begins with a scene of Luiseño Native Americans who lived in our river valley for thousands of years. They were able to dwell for so long because they made their decisions carefully, always considering the next 7 generations.
When the colonists arrived a little more than 2 centuries ago, we ignored the wisdom of the natives, dammed the river and covered much of the natural world with asphalt and unsustainable homes. Will council choose to pave over what's left? I hope not.
Will future generations grow here? Or will our food sources become an import?
Please help save a precious resource and be on the good side of history.
For those who live in urban or suburban areas, it can be difficult to imagine life on a farm. But we all benefit from a connection with nature, and some simple activities can help bring nature into even the most urban life setting. For instance, growing herbs in small yard containers or windowsill pots requires very little space and can provide a lot of joy. There is something so sweet and satisfying about consuming the bounty of a plant you’ve tended and grown. Whether it’s a small potted fruit tree or containers of herbs, when you eat of that which you’ve helped nurture, it can incredibly nourishing when you have that connection to it.
There are many varieties of sage that can be used to enhance culinary projects, and all are a delight in the garden. Sage attracts pollinators when it’s blooming and its fragrant, leathery leaves are useful year round.
Mraz Family Farms has patches of sage growing in a number of places, and this year we made Sage Honey. We harvested leaves from the sage, cut it up into small strips and filled a glass jar up to the very top with the fresh cut plant material. Then we covered the sage with honey, filling it to the top and patiently pushing down the leaves with a chopstick to make more space. We topped it off, put a tight lid on it and labeled it with a sticker showing the date and contents, then set it in a cupboard to sit for at least six weeks.
After six weeks, the sage honey is ready for use. We make a tea using a heaping spoonful of the honey, leaves and all, put in a mug and covered with boiling water. After a few minutes, the leaves that float at the top can be easily skimmed off, and you have a soothing, fragrant, delicious healing tea. This tea is especially good for times when the throat feels a tickle or when struck with a cold or flu.
We went through this honey so quickly that we can’t wait to make more! The nourishment provided by both the medicinal quality of the honey-sage extraction plus the beauty of having prepared it oneself, is beyond compare. A relationship with plants and nature can’t be bought in the grocery store, but it can be nurtured by spending time working with these beneficial herbs.
When looking around the yard or living space, consider including plants with useful qualities, like sage. In our experience, the plants seem to flourish when used, as if they know they are needed and grow even more robustly.
The natural cycle of birth, death, and rebirth happens to include death. A word that often brings up imagery associated with fear, pain, and horror, “death” is actually a necessary and beautiful part of life that our modern culture could stand to embrace and honor more.
When I first moved to the farm, looking out into the grove I saw piles of “leaf litter” or dropped leaves from the avocado trees. I thought to myself that it would look so much prettier and more manicured if all those leaves were raked up and moved away. But I soon learned that the leaf litter, which sometimes reaches two feet in height, is made up of decomposing leaves in various stages of decay, hosting countless beneficial microorganisms, insects, and even dropped avocados that deliver nutrients back into the soil. The leaves also keep the ground covered, allowing moisture to stay in place rather than quickly dry up. In fact, the piles of leaf litter are critical to the health of the grove but my suburban-born eyes were unaccustomed to seeing beauty in the “mess” of the landscape.
Embracing the cycle of death is one way of embracing faith. We can let go of what dies, knowing that life will spring forth once again. I admit that I sometimes feel a sense of loss when a crop is harvested knowing that I won’t again taste the fruit of that tree for a whole year. But I also know that I WILL get to taste its fruit again and I’ll appreciate it far more since I cherish the tree all year long. The tree and its particular fruit come to mark the seasons and the years of my life, and they live in my memories.
For example, I know that in June when nearly all of the avocados have been harvested, there’s no reason to despair because the fig trees will soon explode with ripe fruit so delicious that the birds, bees, beetles, and field mice all want their share. And in August when the heat gets oppressive, I will have the joy of a juicy lychee fruit refreshing my palate. In late fall when the crops are waning and it feels like the season for fruit is finished, along comes the blessed persimmon, the last tree in the orchard to ripen with it’s sweet orange glow like the sunset of the fruit season.
All trees that bear fruit must drop what ripens and move on to the next phase of their life cycle. The same goes for our human lives. We must also drop things that no longer serve our best interests, and failure to do so is cause for a constant loop of suffering. The simple lessons of nature and life on the farm have so much wisdom to impart. The tree does not mourn the dropping of its blossoms or the final loss of its last piece of fruit. It knows of the falling away, the shedding of the old, the inevitability and the beauty of death. We too experience a thousand little deaths in every year, every day, every sunrise and sunset and every moment that passes.
Even our biology embraces death. As the human brain develops, connections and synapses are formed as we learn and grow. Many of these connections will become patterns that are used over and over again like a well-traveled hiking trail. What isn’t often discussed is that the pruning of connections is as important as the formation of them for a healthy brain. We must prune away the pathways that don’t lead to success. We must prune our roses to ensure a robust bloom. We must prune our fruit trees to channel the energy into the strongest limbs. Pruning is death that is inevitably followed by rebirth. Those who are wise embrace death as a natural cycle of nature; on the farm, and in our lives.
Fruits of wisdom from our family tree.