Connections
-October, 2021 –
Connections
I think a lot about my role in nature and how we can use our farm to connect others to the natural world. We do that through these newsletters, talking to people at markets and fairs, public speaking, and through who we hire. We were so lucky to have Abby and Clay join us last year and are overjoyed that Abby will be returning. We just hired Clay’s friend Jacob, who will graduate from Berea College this December, to join us for this year’s sugaring season. We are committed to hiring people that feel that deep connection to nature - we want to keep our connections with all of them.
Clay recently asked if I would write a recommendation for him to study basket weaving aboard. There are lots of jokes out there about studying basket weaving and I confess, I made a few myself. I grounded myself by recalling that last winter, Abby would head off to basket weaving class every week. She made an awesome basket and I had no doubt that Clay would excel at this craft too. These are special people who, given the chance, may change the world. As evidence of their collective potential, I share, with permission, Clay’s personal statement for his application. It is an amazing read.
Basketry: Stories of Cultural and Ecological Resilience by Clay Schaeffer
Basketry is widely regarded as the oldest craft in human history. Basketry is literally the framework from which most other crafts have evolved. Basketry is not merely practiced by one culture, but it is ubiquitous to every culture around the globe. Baskets evolved independently from each other all over the world. Considering the need to gather, transport, and store food items along with other goods, it is easy to understand why this craft developed such a long time ago.
Over thousands of years, baskets and basketmaking procedures have been handed down from generation to generation. Today, little has changed in the process of weaving objects from plant fibers. Most crafts like pottery, needleworking, blacksmithing, tanning, and woodworking have fallen to the mechanization of the industrial revolution. Basketry, however, is an anomaly because the techniques cannot be automated. There’s something truly spectacular about basketry – its ability to survive the manufactured world is a testimony to the skill and appreciation of cultural heritage possessed by basket weavers.
One of my favorite plants for basketry is native to the Appalachian Mountains of central Pennsylvania where I grew up. Though today this area is dominated by oaks, maples, beech, and birch trees, just two decades ago lived another vibrant, valued species that provides a critical food source for North American frogs – the ash tree. Indigenous peoples of the Northeast United States made baskets from black ash trees for hundreds, possibly thousands, of years for gathering, storage, or ceremonial purposes. Regrettably, black ash trees are on a rapid decline – essentially nonexistent in my childhood forests of central PA due to the invasion of the emerald ash borer. The trees are dying as a direct result of human civilization – global trade and movement brought the emerald ash borer to the United States in 2002 from its native land of Northeast Asia. This beetle lays its eggs under the bark of ash trees and the larvae emerges to feed on the cambium layer, killing the tree. The emerald ash borer does not have any predators here in the United States, and as a result, the gradual devastation of our native ash species. Dying along with the ash trees is the thousand-year-old craft of black ash basketry.
Seeking to heal the land through regenerative agriculture has always been a central focus of my life. What I love about basketry is that it brings both cultural and ecological ramifications together. As a basket maker, one has specific strategies for the sustainable management of plant resources. Basket makers in the Northeast are doing everything they can to save the black ash from the emerald ash borer. All basket makers are conservationist because without plants, basketry would not exist.
Basketry is fundamental to preserving traditional skills and cultural heritage, but also vital to the preservation of the natural world. Every basket maker has a purpose. And every basket has a story. They may tell a story about what life was like thousands of years ago. They may tell stories about the earth, its forests, fields and rivers. Or they may simply tell the story of an artist’s imagination.
Walking through a wet, swampy forest in Eastern PA a few years ago, my brother and I paused to focus our attention on a slender, smooth barked tree with a crooked trunk and dark brown buds. We recognized the tree was shedding some of its upper branches – an early sign of trees holding in as much moisture as possible despite an illness. Before long, we identified the tree as black ash and began work the next day to salvage splints for basket material. After cutting, soaking, pounding, and peeling off individual splints, I began a black ash pack basket. The whole process took months to complete because I took my time. I wanted to be in the right frame of mind when weaving the basket, doing my best to honor the tree through the beautiful artwork I was creating. I could not be more pleased with the outcome.
I made my black ash basket the size of a standard book bag, just large enough to fit my computer and a few books inside. I carry that black ash basket with me around my college campus taking it with me to all my classes. Why do I do this? Why do I bring the basket with me on a regular basis when it would be more convenient to carry a cotton backpack? Because I want my fellow students to ask about it. This gives me the opportunity to talk about the importance of the black ash in the Northeast United States – by telling them the story of my basket. Every basket has a story, and these stories should be shared.