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Mar 122012
 

Sometime in early November of 2011, someone came and cut the chain on my lock and replaced it with this lock. As far as I can tell, this mysterious person has never been here since then.

Locked out

Locked out

 

The irony of the situation still makes me laugh. Before I came there was a huge gap in the fence — there was simply no fence over a stretch of about 15 meters facing the tracks. It looked sort of like this:

Gap in the fence

Gap in the fence

 

For a while I just piled branches in front of the gap. In May, we built a make-shift fence out of sticks. It was a lovely thing. But over the summer some jerk knocked it down, so we built a “real fence”. I made wattle fences over the remaining holes.

So it is very funny to me that, after I secured the spot, someone comes and locks me out. Ha ha! Remember that this allotment has been abandoned for YEARS. It was full of an enormous amount of GARBAGE.

There was one hole I didn’t fix, right next to the gate and this has been serving as my entrance. I used The Beekeeper‘s gate as inspiration.

The New 'Gate'

The New 'Gate'

Feb 102012
 

The BeekeeperThe Beekeeper is the most mysterious figure in this little patch of lost and recovered nothingness. He’s always got a gigantic hat on, so it’s hard to see his face and harder still to catch his eye. He raises bees and only bees, and all the plants and all the people who grow plants have a lot to thank him for.

I’ve never heard him talk, sing, hum or whistle. Not to his bees, himself or anyone else. He doesn’t make a sound. Once he was lingering by his gate with a woman, I think it was the Lady With Sparkling Eyes, but I can’t be too sure. She did all the talking.

He has a huge działka held together with women’s pantyhose. There’s a lock on his gate, but what’s the point?

 

This looks terrific, don’t you think? The hose, the twigs, strings, scraps of fabric, wire.

The Beekeeper's Gate - Close

May 012011
 

Today, my husband started filling the hole in the fence or rather building the part that wasn’t there. To block the hole, I had just piled up a bunch of branches, but this looks much better. It’s a little weird to put a fence up. A fence says, “stay out” and “it’s not yours”. I don’t really want people to stay out, and the space isn’t really mine, but it seems that if I want the plants to be safe and for the land to stay clean of garbage, it has to be done. Anyway, it is going to be a beautiful fence! It’s constructed entirely out of materials found in the space.

Fence of self-supporting sticks

Fence of self-supporting sticks

I hope in future I can work on the space outside the fence too. I’d like to put up resting spots for people to kick back and watch the train, some sort of recycling and garbage receptacles, flowers , vines growing on the fences. Maybe in the fall…

Mar 142011
 

There’s this great thing called a wattle fence. It’s great because of what it is (a fence made entirely out of sticks) and also because of the word W-A-T-T-L-E. I like to knit and there’s nothing better than knitting with gigantic tree branches. Technically it’s weaving, I suppose, because basically you brace some vertical poles (the warp) and then weave in the horizontal ones (the weft). Here’s a wattle fence for dry compost I built from Hazel trees (which at the time I thought were Alder trees). The many-trunked hazel trees are visible on either side of the wattle.

Wattle fence for dry compost

Wattle fence for slow dry compost

This compost pile is an experiment in slow motion composting. It has whole dry leaves in alternative layers with fresh grass or leaves .

Wattle fence for dry compost - Close up

Wattle fence for slow dry compost - Close up

I also used some vines and smaller branches to wattle a hole in the fence. Wattling in this way takes an waful long time.

Wattle for a whole in the fence

Wattle for a whole in the fence

Here is a wattle in progress. I’m trying to block a cat hole at the bottom.

Wattle in progress

Wattle in progress