A PR I L 2 012
What On [Ear th] is Going On?
Stone and Rooster
Window Poems
NATHAN THANKI
STU WEYMOUTH
OUT OF WORDS
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7
11
CARLY SEGAL
OPINION
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POETRY
5
ESSAY
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EDITORS’ NOTE
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DEVIN ALTOBELLO
Welcome to spring! It seems that spring is already flying by (as the season often does, too often overlooked in the busy making of summer plans) yet there is so much to see right now. Each day the buds are opening a little more, blossoms are filling canopies, and the sunlight stretches the day a little longer. And what is Off the Wall offering you in April? We were pleasantly surprised to find that this month the majority of submissions were poems. And so, going along with what we were given, we asked for a few more and voila - our spring poetry issue! So enjoy the quiet reading, take this paper with you on a long walk somewhere you haven’t been since fall, and well, enjoy the season. As always, a hearty thanks to all our contributors, - the otw ladies p.s. The sweet sentiment of this note might, just might, have been influenced by the cardigan acoustic concert of aluma Cora Rose (which we loved every note of!).
OPINION
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Anonymous Complaint Regarding Fandango ANONYMOUS Some part of me, a very small fraction I must say, feels guilty for writing the following complaint. But you know what? COA is not only about recycling, solar panels, conferences, fermentation, or snow. It is also about living and recreating this idea of community and mutual cooperation for general well being and learning. That said, I cannot believe that the people organizing Fandango have to literally beg their friends, chase down students, harass talents, cry on each others shoulders, and be frustrated after each meeting because they do not have enough performances to even fill half an hour of the show. Ok. I am sure some people might not even know what Fandango is. In case you missed the several emails sent by Anyuri in the last month, Fandango is a COA cultural event aimed firstly at strengthening the link between the COA and the Bar Harbor community and secondly to fundraise for a chosen cause. How are these two goals meant to be achieved? Through the selling of food cooked by your hands and the presentation of any kind of performance that shows the multiple talents COA students, faculty, and staff have demonstrated in many other spaces before. But these talents seem to be lost in the stacks lately. Without performances it is harder to get attention from people and harder to achieve the two main objectives of this event. Thus, it also creates a more difficulty for the ones who decided to organize Fandango. So, in less words, I am complaining because often we all like to believe that we are living and studying at this nice place where people care for each as much as they care about many other things going on in the world. I would say it is a hypocritical view. If we all care as much as we say we do, then right now Fandango (and many other type of events, Fandango is just today’s victim) would be ready to go. And if the case is that we do not care about what others around us are trying to put together for the benefit of the whole community, then let’s just write about and focus on solar panels, UN conferences, organic production, and of course, human ecology.
NEWS
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What on [Earth] is going on? BY NATHAN THANKI Dear Human Ecologists, It’s surprising—given that Earth in Brackets has been around in one way or another since 2006—that many of you do not know who we are or what exactly we do. Perhaps it shouldn’t be that surprising: just like the COA “body” is ever changing, so is the [earth] “team.” And also just like COA, it is very difficult to come to an agreed, definitive, articulation of the “who we are.” Nevertheless, for the purposes of dispelling any unhelpful myths and with the hope of finally having (almost) everyone at COA know about us, I’ll give my version for you here. Earth in Brackets is a student organisation involved in environmental and sustainable development politics. Simple enough, right? Primarily our engagement takes place at the UN—in NYC, Nairobi, Curitiba, Bangkok, Copenhagen, Cancun, Montreal, Durban, Marseilles, Bonn, and soon Rio, Hyderabad, and Qatar. And primarily it takes the form of blogging about the political manoeuvring within negotiations. Hopefully we translate some of the deliberately obtuse UN-speak into something more digestible. We do more than just write, though. We actually ‘plug in’ to the broader civil society (particularly youth groups) we draft and deliver interventions (that video of Anjali on Democracy Now! being a good example), we take part in protests, we lobby governments, and we act as a conduit between this international front and our local communities, including COA. We do a hell of a lot of learning, which everyone knows is valuable in itself, but we put it to use rather than keep it to the confines of our school books and final papers. But “so what?” you might say. What has this got to do with me? Well in short; everything, if you want. As we’re all aware, the myriad problems of this human civilization touch every field and focus of study and every aspect of our lives. It is no use having only environmental politics students talking about environmental politics, or having only economics students thinking of new economies. No, there’s a need for artists, for poets, for teachers, for
botanists, for ecologists, for philosophers, for geologists. This is a call to arms. Do you think the decisions made in the UN have terribly negative impacts (think of sanctions on Iraq, think of the decision not to intervene in Rwanda, think of the way programmes that exploit and commodify people and nature are being legitimised under the climate and biodiversity regime)? So don’t you think that we should shine a light into the heart of darkness? You do not have to answer yes—engagement of this type is not for everyone, nor should it be. But if you feel that it is for you then I invite you to think about, and discuss with anyone you know, how to be involved and how you can take part. You might then ask “why now?” Without boring you too much with the details, because now is the time that things are really happening with [earth]. We applied and were accepted to COA’s sustainable business programme—“the hatchery”—which has given us the much needed time, resources and funds to make the most of all the energy emerging after Durban and ahead of the Rio ‘Earth Summit +20.’ Our hope is to reach more people. We know they (you) are out there—rabblerousers, change-makers, informed radicals, human ecologists. Our hope is to be a dissenting voice, a force for positive change that highlights injustices and their solutions; our hope is to empower and embolden youth activism. As a team we’re rethinking the purpose and design of our site, to be more interactive, navigable, and expressive in a variety of ways. We’re doing outreach via schools, social media, and targeted advertising. To ensure the sustainability of these efforts, we’re attempting a broader effort at connecting to the curriculum at COA. Ours is a collaborative worldview, not a competitive one, and so we’re eager to build new bridges and strengthen existing connections among other youth—yourselves included. We’ll have a stall at Earth Day where you can come talk to some of us. Besides that, check out the site, like us on facebook and twitter, comment, show support, start discussions, get involved.
POETRY
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I value you. BY KATJA FLUKIGER I value you. I really do I swear. I understand if you don’t believe me. All the things I pile on you, all the things I do to you but really I do value you. Usually when I come home from school I just sit there not talking to you I just, just sit there. It must hurt. and sometimes I bring others, I never think about how you feel about that.
You hold me when I cry, You’ve seen me at my worst and still I cheat on you I do. With others, Several of them. Most of them in Switzerland. I feel easy and cheap but then again I just need a place to lay my head. I appreciate you my lovely bed.
Last week I had to work on my art, I used a lot of glue, some must have dripped on you I am sorry for that too. I just feel so comfortable when I’m with you, you’re there for me to cuddle at night singing me to sleep with your silent lullaby. and when I eat in front of you, you never complain, you never say a word. Sometimes I wish I could be more like you. Silent. I hate undressing you because that means... I’ll have to dress you again at some point. We’ve watched so many movies together I wonder which was your favorite. You never told me. If I could make a guess, I’d say Sleeping Beauty. We don’t have any secrets I can’t keep anything from you. You’re always there, Because you care, you do. After a long night out especially... I love you the most no doubt. You are my best friend
BRONWYN CLEMENT
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MARIA ALEJANDRA ESCALANTE
Life’s a Twitch BY TERRY PRICE, WHO HAS TOURETTE’S, BUT TOURETTE’S DOES NOT HAVE HIM
Life’s a twitch, Feel free to laugh, Because in this world it seems If you’re not laughing, You end with the other kind of tears Life’s a twitch Ask me why: I’ll tell all I’m not ashamed to speak Of the ironic imp on the seat of my brain Spinning the pedals in endless circles Life’s a twitch, That little devil says, And no matter my answer He never hits the brakes As I fly in endless gyrations Life’s a twitch, But don’t believe for a moment, Frail as I am on those whirling rounds, That I am weak, quiescent on the circling spokes Life’s a twitch, But it’s my twitch And the grinning imp cannot break me In the attempt to consume me, He has been consumed And been taken into me Life’s a twitch, But I am the one moving
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Stone and Rooster BY STU WEYMOUTH
Dusk, she calls silhouettes to rest. Dear, do not worry. I won’t let you sleep late. Creaking and hoarse, Rooster calls the day awake: “WAKE UP AND STRETCH YOUR STALE BLOOD!” There are hands to be filled, feathered, dusted with grain, Dreams to be retired like the dry from the rain, calluses to be creased like steel-paper cranes. WAKE UP AND STRETCH YOUR STALE BLOOD. Take leave. Breathe and be breathed. Knock time from boot heels like dirt clod and weeds. The sun tells you all; gives you all that you need. WAKE UP AND STRETCH YOUR STALE BLOOD. Woodpecker drums on Old Dead Tree. On a far distant day he may be drumming on me. Soil always is a creature to be. WAKE UP AND STRETCH YOUR STALE BLOOD. Stone doesn’t budge, Rooster calls to her edges. Stone doesn’t nudge, plow blades scratches ancient itches. Stone doesn’t tug, plowman is smitten. Stone like pit of moon, moves not inches. WAKE UP AND STRETCH YOUR STALE BLOOD. And back, way back, when a day was its reason. When we all were mustached, dirt caked, and sun seasoned. Back when axe was for Forest and musket for high treason. Stone didn’t budge, and Rooster was preaching, WAKE UP AND STRETCH YOUR STALE BLOOD!
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Untitled BY NATHAN THANKI
The pen only beat the sword because of who held it; that their life would be sold to ink in bonds and chained forever in paper forms. As each stroke held firm, they immortalised the mortal, and I, (objecting to objectification), was glad, for I have been alive and breathing— while they have all been dead and grieving.
Distractions (Cop Out) BY SARAH MCCRACKEN
Moonlight sings along my skin much like moss pressing moisture and life against the surface of stones. But a stone will never accept the earthy breath. It is content in its quiet and empty existence or at least, has accepted its part in the complexities of this world. I can’t tune them out. My own voice drowning. My focus is a flock of cedar waxwings frightened flying in all directions intoxicated, bellies full of fermented winterberry near window panes feigning flight paths. Crumpled bills grasped and passed between so many hands instead of threading them together push them apart filling the empty cavities between the skin and the soul with only one side of magnets. Memories dwelling in my blood and fingertips But if I keep them there is little room for new growth Or others in their own frantic flight Knowledge. I’ll show you I’m something. I’m thoughts and ideas that I didn’t think But listen. I’ll play and repeat them for you dropping names like quality bread crumbs. I remember what it was like To be instead of try, letting go of any focus I thought I had and instead of standing steady against the tides I let the murky waters swamp my insides and felt the similarity between my own salinity and that of the ocean and pressing myself against many stones I smoothed their rough edges and rolled them together to play thunder. Until I felt the fishing line. Ocean water seeping out, I’m left behind to dry.
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NINA WISH
A Note on the Prints in the Issue BY BRONWYN CLEMENT Sunday was a gorgeously sunny day; a perfect day to be out at the farm. In fact, it was one of the busiest days at the farm I’ve ever seen: the wood pellet heater was being fixed, a truck load of bah-ing sheep was delivered, a very tall and very straight maypole also arrived, a dance troupe was running and jumping on the lawn, a dozen of lunchpacked and ready admitted students were perusing the grounds, but best of all - if I can be slightly biased - there were a dozen or so people making linocut prints. The print workshop, led by Catherine Clinger, allowed us to explore the process of print making from design to inking in a condensed day-long affair. After Catherine described to us the aesthetics of printmaking and different techniques we took our linoleum blocks and wandered into the grass with pencils, carving tools, and plenty of ideas. Throughout this issue you’ll find the first run of some of our prints. The prints will be on sale during the Food Conference next weekend and all profits will go towards Share the Harvest, Beech Hill Farm’s community food access program. So enjoy the prints and come by next weekend to get one for yourself! A big thanks to everyone who came out and enjoyed the sun.
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Untitled BY JACOB WARTELL
Because I am in love with
myself and
the the way the blue dusk drags at my window-pane living-room above the street I am handily compelled to
step
out into the earlyspring snow fall. In and out of street-lamp’s puddles. Lights out in the windows, but
we won’t be lonely.
I cannot stop my socks from becoming mushy-wet so I relish in it to the sandbar stretching its pebbles towards the sea beyond the bay. I am Elated. Upright. Expanding emotion through my torso reaching arms. The blatter of invisible ducks I bend to kiss the Earth. And the ice crystals chatter as they fall against my face ‘Beautiful is home. Beautiful is home.’
MARIA ALEJANDRA ESCALANTE
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Window Poems Wendell Berry, writer and farmer, once wrote a series of poems while gazing out his window. The poems are meditations on life and love, war and humanity, the birds in the bush, and the breeze on the river; he contemplated the world from the window in his house with long legs. In Out of Words, Candice Stover’s class focused on being attentive and exploring the sensory world across genres, we were asked to do the same: to find a window that we would return to, spend time at, and watch the world. The following are some of our own window poems. A pane of glass. A pane of glass. The slosh of a day. Rushes of shame, heather, gray. The gull sidesteps into sky. The boiler shakes, and shakes. BY ADDIE NAMNOUM
LISA MCCUSKER Squat, torpid one pursues the soggy rubber fruit plucked from the stem of a hose. He mimics the bulge’s retreat with his own lopsided gait. Winter legs stay tangled and his balloon escapes to purge, exhale a sidewalk sigh. Be brief she breathes, be brief. ANONYMOUS
12 i stare out the window eyes peeled, absorbed by water a steel grey blue stretching i cannot see its edge lost in golden grasses yet the window is a frame. trapped behind glass i do not hear wind, i do not taste salt the clutter confounds me who left these things here? who once swept these floors? who else gazed out over moss and rock? i think of all the windows i have known facing water, facing garden perhaps i too can grow comfortable here amongst the spoons and dust in the drawers BY BRONWYN CLEMENT
i chose this window for what it allows to pass through: starlings’ songs incessant, snowflakes make yesterday’s thoughts run together melting blue “sunshine” into white paper, wrapped in wool i watch as they gatherdiscarded string and last year’s straw refurnish a hollow eave. an untapped sugar maple stretches its sculpted limbs to receive this gull colored sky untroubled that it’s april and still snow BY CHRIS MONAHEN
Fragments – Twelve fragments, fragmenting Sight, fragmenting Sound. Broken, my senses are broken into small shapes cut into uneven parts. They do not make sense. Flawed shards of what as one may flow Into my heart and mind. Flat remnants of what was once – not a fragment. What remains is a Fragment of light. Scattered on the varnished wood, golden splinters. Wait – hold still Silence The light moves waiting for no one. It silently invades the depths of each crease in the wood floor. but, like a Rook – it may only proceed straight ahead. The glass is not clear, it only appears so – when the wind holds its breath. As the limbs of the old apple sway, they stretch and bend through the window. Stillness – caged – trapped is the mind in the head in the room. Out the window, the robin skips sideways – then pauses, just for an instant. The light reaches its fingers in, and we meet fingertip to fingertip. BY ERICA GEORGAKLIS
13 The wind within has moved on, our past – salt eaten bricks. The blown out frame. I take my time now, across the sky, to write the words atop the backs of your hands, between folds of rising dough. The sea, still the tumultuous mass you could never forget, roiling as you sleep. Drift. Beauty has strewn itself around your wrists, Tirelessly. What may I relay? That I am older now, even older than I thought. That it is all river here. That I think of you, growing gentle with the night. The wall that we cannot feel, but touch. BY LALLY OWEN
This window is taller and more muscular than me. and I can tell that a strong, fine person died and was reborn as this window. Possibly even one of the greek gods. This window is a beast. BY JAYA CHAKRAVARTI
DEVIN ALTOBELLO
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ESSAY
A Language Proposal for the Gentlemen’s Club BY ARWYN SHERMAN
Author’s note: This paper was written as a final paper for an independent study I did in the fall on how language shapes identity, specifically gender identity. I wrote the piece at a time when the Gentleman’s Club had a stronger presence on campus, hence my use of them specifically. Even though they have remained fairly dormant as of late, I do think the conversation of problematic language should happen here on campus. Beyond this particular example, there are numerous words and phrases that invoke problematic assumptions and perpetuate oppression. It is a worthwhile and essential goal to reduce our problematic language and push for a vocabulary in which we are all equal. The linguist S.I. Hayakawa says a speaker expresses himself through language; the one listening is informed through their interpretation of language. Words are how we express and shape our thoughts—one could argue that language shapes our reality. Power structures and relationships are defined by conversation, by this ebb and flow of expression and interpretation. Using language that assumes certain social structures perpetuates those structures in place. This can be a positive or negative force, but it is a force we need to contend with. Social injustices exist in this world today as much as they did in the past. Yet it is with the fallacious belief that oppression is behind us that we have become lax in our use of language. We evoke language that perpetuates stereotypes, patterns of dominance, and social structures thinking that these issues are, in fact, past. Under the argument that language shapes our social fabric, this is detrimental as well as part of the issue at hand. We must change our language to shape the just world we want to create; a world that evokes equality. We combat social inequities by using care with our language. This brings me to The Gentlemen’s Club. Although the mission statement and purpose of the club—to get together and have fun—is not a fallible goal, many, including myself, have taken issue with the terminology used. Although this is an issue of language that many may scoff at as unimportant and fussy, language provides the fundamental blocks of our reality as well as communication and thus it is dire to ride our discourse of words that emulate and describe a world in which we are not all equal. When it comes to oppressive language and offensive terms there are two schools of thought. Some believe, as Hayakawa does, that language defines us and thus should
be used carefully to shape our world. Others such as Robin Lakoff, believe that “the presence of the [oppressive] word is a signal that something is wrong rather than. . .the problem itself.” Lakoff argues that once the inequality is fixed, problematic language will make its graceful exit as archaic and unnecessary. Yet the question remains: How will inequalities be remedied if we construct our language on the basis and assumption that they exist? When we address females and males differently so that the males are always “Mr.” no matter their marital status while females are “Miss” or “Mrs.” depending on if they are married or not, what idea are we perpetuating? The neutral “Ms.” exists and was heavily fought for yet is used only if the woman prefers it or if the speaker is unsure of her marital status. Either way, the importance of a woman’s marital status is dictated by the language we use and furthers the idea that that status defines her. How can we rid this social inequity without changing the language? How would that actively change unless we fight for “Ms.” and the change in language that the term represents? In terms of the language we use, connotations are a major shaping power of our discourses. Hayakawa points out the two different types of connotations of a word: the informative and affective. The informative connotation of a word includes “both the definition of the term. . .and its denotation,” simply providing a common ground of which people in conversation may understand a word. The affective connotation is the place where many run into trouble, since the affective connotation is subtler and at times far more sinister than its simple and more overt sibling. Affective connotations “are the aura of personal feeling it arouses.” Oftentimes, one could argue, a word’s affective connotation takes precedence over its informative one.
15 If one was to say, “The police broke up the mob at Occupy Wall Street last night,” although mob technically can be defined simply as “n. any group or collection of things,” the image the listener receives is one of angry riot-hungry people and this listener, without having any other information about the situation, may find themselves relieved that such violence was stopped.
“language Using that assumes certain social structures perpetuates those structures in place.
”
Now, if one was to say “Police broke up the group of protestors at Zuccotti Park last night,” the image one receives is quite different even though “group” is defined as “n. any collection or assemblage of person or things.” This example illuminates the importance of affective connotations and shows how they can shape one’s idea of a situation or thought, simply because of the language that is used. The history, definition, and affective connotation of a “Gentlemen’s Club” are all different and all relevant to my proposal. Historically speaking “Gentlemen’s Clubs” originated in Britain in the eighteenth century by the upper-middle class. The idea spread throughout Europe and by the nineteenth century Gentlemen’s Clubs were everywhere. In the beginning, these clubs were extraordinarily exclusive—one had to be of the status of a “gentleman” to gain entrance. There were strict requirements for membership and long waiting list. As time went on and the status of “gentleman” became more easily achieved, a man could find a club that would admit him. As more and more clubs started to form, it became easier to get gain access, if only because there were an excess of clubs. But there were also the unfortunates who were considered “unclubbable”—men who were of poor character; eventually “unclubbable” also came to mean a man who had to earn his money. These sort of clubs still exist today, though they are not as prevalent as they once were. Even so, there are still elite clubs with strict entrance guidelines. Also, in a contemporary sense, the term “Gentlemen’s Club” can refer to strip clubs or clubs where men go to cheat on their spouses. The affective connotation of Gentlemen’s Club stirs up the image of wealthy men gathering in a hierarchical sense, a society in which the amount of money determines your eligibility of entrance to social circles. It evokes the space in which femalebodied folk are not allowed and emulates a
time in which it was perfectly acceptable to have sex, race, and class distinctions without shame or consciousness in society. My question for those who have chosen this name is this: Why do we want to emulate a time of blatant inequality and privilege? Given, the definition of a Gentlemen’s Club as a gathering of like-minded people, the affective connotation holds much stronger than its simple definition and should be taken into consideration. Because language is essential in structuring the world, the term “Gentlemen’s Club” is highly problematic given its place in social terminology. If we want to use language to restructure society, I propose a renaming of the Gentleman’s Club. I implore you to find a name that does not evoke a time of social inequity and can pave a new space of social consciousness. This may seem a nit-picky, hyper-feminist proposal given that the intent of this Gentlemen’s Club is in good fun and not to actively oppress other social groups, and in fact declares its openness to anyone and everyone joining the club. But I hope I have been convincing in my belief that language is serious business. When it comes to social equality, doing something for humor or “just for fun” while perpetuating an oppressive ideal, in seriousness or not, is equally terrible. Making light of oppression that many others experience daily shows how entrenched and unaware one is of their own privilege. I implore you to think critically about your privilege and to be aware of language that invokes that privilege. As Hayakawa says, one must deal with issues by “rethinking the problem, using different terminologies,” and by “trying out many, many possible terms. . .new ways of dealing with the problem are discovered and devised.” We must tackle oppression linguistically if we are to successfully create a just world. There are many other equally as valid ways to help rid the world of oppression and social inequality. In fact, they are essential as well in this battle for justice. My point is to accent this struggle and point out the fundamental shifts in language, and thus culture, that must take place before genuine equality can be reached. Accuracy of language is vital to a new worldview. Thank you for taking your time to read my proposal.
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ANNOUNCEMENTS
DEVIN ALTOBELLO MAINE FARMS AND FARMERS - April 12 to 22Photographs to celebrate the Maine Farm in conjunction with the Sustainable Foods Conference, Reconnecting Hands, Mouth & Mind through Food Systems Education. Curated by the Maine Farmland Trust. Blum Gallery, Monday–Friday, 9 a.m.–5 p.m. SUSTAINABLE FOOD SYSTEMS CONFERENCE - April 20-22 - If you are interested in sustainable food systems, you will probably want to attend: there will be great keynote presenters, lots of break-out sessions with friends from around the Northeast region as well as our Transatlantic Partners, and interesting field trips. We’re only asking $20 from COA community to attend. Register online or email mdoyleolson@coa.edu. 35TH PARALLEL CONCERT: Saturday, April 21 at 8 p.m., doors open at 7:30 p.m, in celebration of Earth Day. Gates EARTH DAY CELEBRATION: April 22, all day. College of the Atlantic campus. Talks, music, ideas, children’s activities, and more on living well with the earth. M.S. 328 - April 24 to 27 - A photo essay senior project by Annie Aviles will be shown in Blum Gallery. Opening reception the 24th at 4:30 pm. MUSHROOM WORKSHOP - April 25, 3:30-6:30 pm Mushroom Log Inoculation led by Jerzy Skupny. Learn about log culture, an avenue for gourmet mushroom cultivation, at Beech Hill Farm, followed by a potluck dinner. Pre-register, BeechHillFarm@coa.edu. FANDANGO: INTERNATIONAL MUSIC & DANCE CONCERT: Friday, April 27 at 8 p.m., doors open at 7:30 p.m. Fandango, the annual talent celebra-
tion with music, dance and fun from around the globe. Donations. Gates. WORKSHOP: Saturday, April 28 from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Overcoming Cold Depression through Kundalini Yoga, with social worker and certified teacher Navneet Kaur. Gates $35. To register contact Mahan Deva Singh (Aaron Steiner) at mahandevasingh@gmail.com or Lauren Rupp at lrupp@coa.edu MAYPOLE CELEBRATION - April 29 - call for times: Get sassy with ribbons and the local community as you celebrate May Day and learn about self-reliance, energy use and sustainability. Free. Beech Hill Farm BeechHillFarm@coa.edu or bclement@coa.edu. SENIOR PROJECT - April 30 to May 4: Chalese Carlson senior project show., Blum Gallery, 9 a.m.–5 p.m. PERMACULTURE WORKSHOP: Sunday, May 6 from 2 to 6 p.m.: Learn to create your own polycultural system—a diversity of plants working together, no matter what size your garden might be. Beech Hill staff will lead the workshop, along with a guest lecturer. A potluck follows. Free. Beech Hill Farm Preregister: BeechHillFarm@coa.edu. HUGEL MOUND-MAKING AND PERMACULTURE DESIGN - May 19 from 1 to 6 pm: Learn while you follow this ancient Eastern European tradition, great for developing orchards and providing nutrients for growing trees and plants. Information also on sheet mulching, planting of nutrient dynamic accumulators, fruits and nuts, insect attracting flowers, and more. Rain Date May 26. Free. Beech Hill Farm Preregister: BeechHillFarm@coa.edu.