Must read.

1. The Ominivore’s Dilemma, by Michael Pollan
2. In Defense of Food, by Michael Pollan
3. The End of the Wild, by Stephen M. Meyer

Should read.

1. When the Rivers Run Dry, by Fred Pearce
2. Citizenship Papers, by Wendell Berry

Could read.

1. Field Notes From a Catastrophe, by Elizabeth Kolbert
2. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, by Barbara Kingsolver

Skip it.

1. The World Without Us, by Alan Weisman
2. Coming Home to Eat, by Gary Paul Nabhan

This last book I’m working my way through now, and it’s a bit wandering and self congratulatory without imparting any real knowledge or sense of experience.  At best.  Which is disappointing because I had high hopes: It recounts a guy’s attempt to consume only what he can get from within 220 miles from his Arizona home (a bit far for “local”, but a great goal).

I have a “to read” stack on my desk that includes The End of Food, by Paul Roberts; Hot, Flat, and Crowded, by Thomas L. Friedman; Fast Food Nation, by Eric Schlosser; and Second Nature, by Michael Pollan.  That’s where I’ll be heading next, trying to read as many as I can before the spring semester starts and my reading turns back to student work.

If there’s anything else I should read, or any of the above that I’ve misread — drop me a note.

But mostly what I did (besides grade final exams) was watch the rain run off things.  Suburban areas are pretty well waterproofed, with roofs, patios, driveways, streets, gutters, and slopes that ensure the water goes to a particular place — away.  For a drought-stricken area such as San Diego, it’s a strange objective.  Then again, this is a place where people have to be reminded to turn off their sprinklers when it rains and threatened with fines to adhere to rationing during the driest months.  It’s a mindset that comes from never having lived without water, and it’s luxurious thinking.

Watching the runoff made me think about rain catchment systems and wish we had ours.  We have plans, but that’s all.  For someone who intends to grow edibles here in July and August, saving the rain seems like the right thing to do.  Forget edibles — for anyone planning on growing anything in San Diego in July and August, it’s the right thing to do (unless that San Diegan is making trips with a bucket to the San Diego river — not recommended).  But I don’t know a single person who catches the rain.

The weekend storms twisted and tied my tidy climbing snow peas into a knotted ball, and the harsh winds and cold proved the final blow for the Delicata Squash, following on the heals of a massive aphid infestation and powdery mildew.  But the peas are still producing, and there are a few salvageable squash.  The leafy greens looked vibrant by Monday morning, so we ate some, and all the newly planted, second-round winter crop seems to have gotten a boost from the downpour — including the winter wheat fortuitously sown the day before the storms.

So not all the water went to waste.  We kept some.