by Fireweed, for the Island Word, April 2015 edition
On
a whim one day, I nicknamed a plant in my garden. Nearly two decades
later I'm still boasting
about 'Barbara'!
Each spring this magnificent rhubarb unfurls to reclaim a vast domain
and produce an over-abundance of juicy red stalks. Every summer I put
up with the inconvenience of having to circumnavigate leaves the size
of elephant ears! You might
say we're bonded. With a taproot extending half way to the Southern
Ocean, Barbara has made it
perfectly clear that relocation is not an option.
Coincidentally,
I lived on a farm with another non-human
'Barbara' years ago – a
sentient being appropriately stubborn in her own particular
ways. Ba-ba-Barbara looked a
lot like the ewes mothering offspring right now in my current rural
neighbourhood. She taught me that sheep are incredibly sensitive and
aware animals, and that every flock has its trusted leaders. She had
her own unique personality, expressed affection, and responded to her
name like a dog or cat might come when called. The notion that sheep
are unintelligent is certainly common place, but definitely
misguided.
Researchers in Cambridge, England have discovered that sheep can remember the
faces of as many as 50 other sheep (and also individual humans) two years after their last encounter. Another study,
demonstrating their well-developed spatial memory, documented sheep
navigating their way through a complex maze. They got better at
repeated attempts, clearly exhibiting their ability to learn. As
animals vulnerable to predation, sheep are naturally timid in
situations of uncertainty, but a mother will exhibit great courage on
behalf of her young. They have very strong social relationships for
life, and have been known to forge special friendships with members
of other species.
Ba-ba-Barbara
might have lived four to five times as long as she did, but the
burden of carrying multiple babies (an outcome of contemporary
breeding practises) can lead to fatal complications during delivery.
She never made it to her 3rd birthday. Of course, most of the lambs
frolicking in local fields right now will be traumatized by
separation from their mothers and sent to slaughter for their flesh
anywhere between five and twelve months of age. The bucolic air they
lend to a daffodil-dotted landscape in springtime is deceiving.
Relative to their 'natural' lifespans, any semblance of blissful
freedom is extremely short-lived.
With no apparent disruption to the longevity of my 'garden-variety' Barbara, I have managed to cleave pieces of the massive rhizome for propagation elsewhere. And I've read about rhubarb planted on homesteads over a century ago still going strong!
I'm
not in the habit of personifying plants, generally speaking.
Referring to a robust rhubarb the way I relate to a human or
non-human animal is completely tongue-in-cheek for me. But I am
concerned about the number of locavores I hear blurring distinctions
between plants and animals - to the point of equating the harvesting
of one with the slaughter of another. I wonder how it is that such
folks can claim to detest factory farming and support what they refer
to as 'humane' killing, without advocating for similar 'best
practises' when it comes to the fruits and vegetables they imply are
also capable of suffering. I just can't imagine putting faith in any
farmer who really believes the difference between slicing a crown of
broccoli from its stalk and cutting someone's throat is negligible if
that someone is a nonhuman animal. And yes, I've met these sincere
people.
Plants
lack the central nervous system common to animals that facilitates
our experience of pain, and the subsequent ability to flee from
danger for self-preservation. Plants have
evolved different, mostly stationary means of discouraging
certain forms of potential harm. In some instances they may actually
benefit from activities that would be fatal to an animal –like
heavy predation, or fire.
We
can argue about whether or not a plant's ability to respond to
external stimuli means they are capable of experiencing suffering comparable to what we animals do as sentient beings. But at
best that's a diversion from this straight-forward fact: only through trickery is any animal led willingly to slaughter.
Lambs
are very vocal about their distress when taken from their mothers,
and vice versa. Plants, on the other hand, have certainly not evolved
to communicate through sound what so many animals with ears are
capable of sharing with one another – actual feelings.
When it comes to the animals humans choose to dominate, I think what
social justice activist and writer Arundhati Roy has to say about
oppression in general applies: “There's really no such thing as the
'voiceless.' There are only the deliberately silenced, or the
preferably unheard.”
....................
This
month's recipe reunites rhubarb with its origins as a vegetable!
Classification of the plant as a fruit was simply the result of
American farmers lobbying for tax breaks in the early part of the
20th century. Sweet or savoury, rhubarb is
versatile and nutritious. Give this unusual combo a try...you'll
soon be adding it your own rhubarb repertoire!
Fireweed's
Rhubarb Rhapsody Soup
Soup ingredients
(preferably organic):
1/2
T. olive oil
3
carrots, thinly sliced
3
celery stalks, thinly sliced
1/2
an onion, diced
1
cup of red lentils
1
cup of chopped rhubarb
2
.5 herbal bouillon cubes
(I
like Harvest Sun Organics)
4
cups of water
1
tomato, chopped
a
handful of parsley, chopped
sea
salt, and fresh ground pepper to taste
Tofu sour cream ingredients:
1 box of organic Mori-Nu Silken tofu
1 T. lemon juice
pinch of sea salt, or season to taste
Instructions:
Saute
carrots in olive oil over medium heat just long enough to begin to
soften before adding celery and onions. When all are tender, set
aside. Rinse lentils, and add to boiling water with bouillon cubes.
Turn down heat and cook gently with lid on for approx. 10 minutes.
Add rhubarb, parsley and tomato with seasoning and cook for another
10 minutes (less time if you prefer the rhubarb soft but intact). Add
other veggies during the last few minutes. Garnish, if you wish, with a dollop of tofu sour cream (made by simply blended the three ingredients together.) Bon appetit!
