The Story of “Keystone” Shellbark Hickory

Parker with his “Keystone”

One of my elders in the nut growing community was a man named Parker Coble of Gettysburg. Over the course of his life he had accomplished many things: he was a track and field runner, a teacher, school administrator, football coach, father, husband, bow-hunter, and orchardist. In the years that I knew him he had been battling cancer, and I often found him riding around in his ATV picking up the nuts in his orchard one by one with a reacher tool. His spirits were bright – he was undaunted and courageous, in the sense of the original etymology of the word. From the Latin cor – “heart.” He had a lot of heart for sure. I know he especially loved sharing with younger folks such as those of my generation. He was always spinning yarns. About that elk in Montana. About the times he testified before Congress. The way the surgeons grafted his arteries like he would graft a nut tree. When he used to talk with Ike Eisenhower. The way he would run back and forth to school for miles before the days of busing. Picking American chestnuts as a kid. Securing a grant to start the English as a Second Language program in Adams county. The day Mr. Rogers came to profile him and his nut trees.

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Owasco Agroforestry

Following the annual meeting of the NY Nut Grower’s Association on October 17th, Carl Albers told me to check out the bottom of Lake Owasco since I was interested in shellbark hickory. Shellbark hickory is one of America’s very finest of nut trees.

Carl explained that in the bottoms along the inlet to Owasco Lake there were lots of shellbark hickories growing on the west as well as the east side. He described how there was a native settlement there for a long time and that it was archaeologically a very important area. The following morning I made my way over to the Owasco Flats Wildlife Management Area, as the area is known.

Owasco Inlet
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Healing the Divided States of America


My heart is heavy. All across this country our black brothers and sisters experiencing oppression on the front lines are in deep grief and righteous anger. Those killed at the hands of police — George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Sandra Bland, Philando Castile, Freddy Gray — the list of names goes on and on. I’ve witnessed the plight of the black man in America for years, and have been aware of the issues, yet I often feel so powerless to do anything about the gross injustices in the system. If I were black instead of white, I would be dead already, or long ago in prison. Of this I am certain. As it is said, “No Justice, No Peace” and so these continuing injustices disturb my peace.

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The Burn Garden

Over the past few years fire management and cultural burning have developed as a fascination in me. As a child I was always a bit of a pyro-maniac, but pairing such a Promethean yet utterly human urge with ecological management and plant cultivation reaps interesting and often unbelievable results. Don’t take it from me, but take it from indigenous people the world over. Humanity’s use (and in some cases, abuse) of fire is as old as our modern species. Carbon deposits from landscape-level burning at the hands of humans extends back at least 100,000 years and probably many more.

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Spring growing updates 2019

Spring is here, and what a wonderful time to be alive. The woods are awake with a chorus of flowers, the sun is shining, the days are warm, the roots are ready to be dug, the spring waters are cool, the buds on the trees are swelling, and the grasslands rest in tones of brown, patiently waiting.

I have checked up on some of the places where I have sown seed, and it is a joy to see life continue to unfold year by year.

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