Simple But Effective

European settlers who encountered California Native Americans in the 18th and 19th centuries considered these indigenous people "primitive." Unlike the elaborate Haida, Aztec or Inca cultures, California Natives lacked the elaborate infrastructures of these civilizations. They didn't need it. An easygoing climate in much of California made for the simplest of lifestyles. Ubiquitous oak trees provided a rain of acorns, the staple food for these peoples.

A few days ago I had the privilege of watching the construction of a traditional Miwok "grainery," used to store acorns in the off season. The above-ground storage unit, capable of holding hundreds of pounds of the acorns, was a model of simplicity. Supervised by Diane, who learned the technique from her grandmother, who died at the age of 103, several strong young men stuck four poles several inches in diameter into the ground, anchoring them with rocks. The workers then crossed two strong grape vines about a foot from the ground, lashing them to the poles with strips of pine that had been soaking for hours. Then the group loosely wove thinner lengths of willow around these thick sections. As the acorns are added to the grainery, layers of insect-repelling plants are also added.

The process took hours. The builders took time off to eat, play with children, and visit with old friends. The building of this deceptively simple structure provided some important lessons: more is not always better; and relaxing into a project is sometimes a better way to get it done than trying to over-schedule.

The Miwok had it figured out.

Hello world,

I've finally decided to enter the twenty-first century and do a bit of musing online with my first-ever blog. I've been a writer forever, it seems, but I've been a traditionalist, preferring paper to pixels. However, I'm seeing powerful, life-changing commentary online, so maybe there's something to all this.

My blog is called Thoughts from the Hills, a title I chose because it pretty much covers everything and anything. I live in a relatively remote area of northern California, and from my office window I see hills and more hills. I've lived here many years, and the area has changed much. Ozone drifts here from cities to the west. McMansions are sprouting on every hilltop. Large planned developments blast the sky with street lights, cutting down our nighttime star viewing.

Fortunately, much is the same. Red tailed hawks soar over nearby ponderosa pines. In our little herd of deer in the meadow that we call our front yard, bucks are just now sprouting their antlers. We planted our vegetable garden in soft evening light yesterday, adding peppers, beans, lemon cucumbers and melons to the already flourishing lettuce, radishes, tomatoes and squash.