A few things

A few things that pleased me and didn’t create any waste. 


If there was a theme to my week, it would be local food, grown and shared. Case in point, my friend Serena gifted me five enormous avocados from the tree in her Bondi backyard.

Sometimes, hoarding pays. I realized this sprayer top perfectly fits a small amber glass container whose rubber dropper top has disintegrated. I’d been hanging on to both. A perfect vessel for a peppermint essential oil and water room spray. 

I made it to a crop swap at Pocket City Farms and left with armfuls of swapped goodies, including kale, green beans, lemongrass, oregano, curry leaf seedlings, cuttings of dragonfruit and elderflower, and so much more. You can also buy produce grown on site from the farm stand near the entrance. I paired this pungent bouquet of basil with the tomatoes in a salad later that day. Tasted of summer.

 

 

Foraging for passionfruit

Summer foraging in Sydney means scores of passionfruit.


There is this passionfruit vine that hangs over a tall fence in a pedestrian only walkway.

I’ve had my eye on it since I discovered its existence, shortly after I arrived in Sydney.

This particular passionfruit vine has long taunted me. I’d visit it only to find either a profusion of flowers or halfway formed fruit pushing out of labouring blooms (and often both).

But never any ripe fruit.


Around the end of December, summer here in the southern hemisphere, I finally timed it right. The vine was bursting, the fruit was coming ripe, and the cockatoos were lurking nearby.

When ripe, passionfruit will turn purple and fall off the vine. They might even roll onto a footpath. I collected a shirt-full of the purple-skinned fruit that day, and more the next time I visited.

They may fall from the tree with smooth skins, but will wrinkle after a few days on the counter. That’s how you know they’re ready to be halved and enjoyed.

The seeds are edible and give easily when you bite. Tangy and sweet, it’s a classic pavlova topping, but equally good chilled and eaten with a spoon.

Delicious. And sweetest when handpicked from the vine down the street.

The wilderness downtown: food foraging in Sydney

Bowl of fallen fruit foraged

What do fruit trees have to do with happiness? Maybe everything.


The other weekend I – feeling blue – went looking for green.

Like most city dwellers, I spend too much time sitting in front of a computer. Being outdoors always lifts my mood, whether it’s going camping, diving into the waves, or biking around the ‘hood.

This time, I set out to bring some wilderness into my life by going foraging in the suburbs.

A (mul)berry good idea

Pardon me if – delighted as I am to live in a country where papayas, mangos, pineapples, and passionfruit grow natively – I miss my berries. They grow like weeds in BC. They are cheap, plentiful and often wild. Here they just seem harder to come by, more expensive, and typically in plastic punnets, which I’m not down with.

So I paid close attention when, on a walk down Bondi Road, I noticed a branchy archway over the sidewalk created by a large tree dotted with oblong black berries. These I recognized as mulberries, thanks to a gardening bee at the Randwick Community Garden. They are similar to blackberries in shape and colour, though perhaps not as lusciously delicious (few things are). They would do. They were in season.

Mulberries

It turns out mulberries are fairly common across Sydney and most Aussies have fond childhood memories of gorging on them, fingers stained red from the juices.

They are a generous tree that needs little maintenance. One can even eat the leaves, or feed them to pet silkworms. One crop, many types of yield.

Hidden in plain sight

Curious after my discovery, I googled and found a few foraging apps with local info. I set out on bike in my own neighbourhood and brought a small container with me in case I struck black gold.

Fallen mulberries
Ripe enough to fall off the tree

I found the mulberries I was looking for. Heaps of them. I harvested fruit so ripe it was literally blowing off the tree in the breeze. I was accompanied in my foraging at different intervals by a young magpie and a small dog. I hear pigs love fallen mulberries too.

Dog eating mulberries on ground
Dogs like mulberries too. So do magpies and pigs (not pictured).
stained fingers
Juicy.

Other perennial edibles I spotted: lemons, oranges, peaches, figs, passionfruit, rosemary, lemongrass, papayas, loquat, bananas, olives, mangoes and coffee berries. Not all in season, mind you, nor where they could reasonably be considered fair game. But foraging is less about pulling in a full harvest than it is about the sheer delight of discovery.

When life grows you lemons.
When life grows you lemons.
Passionfruit flower
Passionfruit flower. Not in season yet.
Citrus tree full of fruit.
Citrus everywhere.
Ripe loquats on tree
Not much flesh on these loquats (mostly seed). But who knew they even existed?
lemongrass seeds
Of course I want to grow my own lemongrass!

Humans: landscape architects

Finding food crops in the city is a reminder that humans can create and maintain beneficial landscapes, not just destroy them. That we can plan for the long term. A much needed counterpoint to the notion that we’re inherently bad for the earth, and related, that our elimination from the face of the earth would somehow be the best way resolve things.

Underlying this humans as cancer mindset is the bedtime story about the untouched wilderness, part of western mythmaking around European ‘discovery’ of supposed wilderness.  Charles C Mann expands on this topic masterfully in his book 1491.

The reality is that all cultures shape lands, some much more successfully than others over the long term. So it is not a question of if, but how we do so that matters.

The longest running systems of land management work with rather than against natural systems. With continued population growth in cities like Sydney, I’m particularly interested in exploring permaculture in the urban environment for the purpose of developing hyper-local food sources.

Lemon blossoms
Flowering citrus

Abundant, edible landscapes.

My foraging adventure cheered me up because it was a reminder that there is abundance everywhere. I thought of the people who planted those trees years ago and created a legacy of good. It reminded me of the many fruit-bearing trees in my parents and grandparents’ yards. It made me grateful. It made me want to do more to create permaculture landscapes.

Perhaps permaculture’s real appeal is optimism.

Avocado tree sprouted from seed
One day, many years from now, this avocado tree may bear fruit (berries, technically).

Thoughts I’m left with after a day spent foraging:

  • Rough edges are beautiful and useful // a great garden will be a bit wild. Some plants will go to flower and seed, which will feed the bees and lay groundwork for the next crop. The wildest areas provided the most.
  • Reimagine perfection // The way our culture values perfection in physical form is dissociated from function. What if the sterile hedge was made of rosemary, the tree in the front yard full of lemons, or the garden was bright with edible flowers? Who is making these landscaping decisions? How can I be more involved?
  • Think multi-generational // I’ve been teased for sprouting avocado seeds and planting them since it could take seven years for one to bear fruit. On one hand, it’s hard to know what continent I’ll be on in seven years, and on the other, in some societies, seven generations is the length of the planning cycle. This gives meaning to my baby avocado tree and fuels my passion for restorative land management. In years to come, someone will enjoy the avocado tree I planted. While I hope it’s me, it doesn’t have to be for the exercise to be a success.
  • Loss of landscape is loss of culture // Older homes are being demolished at a rapid pace here in Sydney. It’s not that I’m so tied to the architecture (honestly, much of it isn’t terribly well fit for the climate), but that the trees and the culture will be destroyed by ever-increasing houseprints. We might forget that lemons, loquats, mulberries and mangoes all grow here. Foraging has you reflecting on the ground under your feet.

Freezer full of berries, head full of dreams.

Humans can and must restore the landscape. Planting food forests is one way to do this. One tree planted now could provide food, shelter, habitat, and building materials for generations.

Some guidelines for foraging in urban areas

  • If you’re not sure what it is, don’t eat it.
  • Foraging is about gleaning what would otherwise go to waste on public lands, not trespassing or taking from community garden plots. Go for overhanging or fallen fruit only.
  • Don’t strip everything – leave some for others, or the birds.
  • Do something nice for the area, like picking up a few pieces of trash.
  • If you’re in a position to, consider planting a fruiting tree.
  • If foraging isn’t your thing, join a swap group to trade surpluses in your area.
  • Check out fallingfruit.orgwww.ripenear.meCropSwapSydney  or www.facebook.com/groups/swapyourcrop