Posts filed under ‘Commentary’
Cicada cacophony
By Dee Reid
I woke to a vaguely familiar white noise. Not unlike the monotonous hum of high-speed rush-hour traffic. Or what it might sound like if all of the neighbors fired up their leaf blowers at the same time. But this was Saturday; rush hour was long gone. We live in the woods on the edge of a small town. And few of our neighbors wield leaf blowers.
I opened the back door and recoiled at the racket: Who had the nerve to disturb the peace of our rural paradise? Could you guys turn down the volume, please?
Then I remembered: It was time for the 13-year cicadas to return. Magicicadas, Brood XIX to be precise.
Actually they have been here all along and they mean us no harm. Their crazed parents mated in 1998, amidst a cacophony that we at first thought meant bull dozers were heading down our driveway. Their eggs were deposited, and the little ones have been incubating inconspicuously as “nymphs” ever since.
Brood XIX apparently got the memo over the week-end that it was time to claw out of their holes, bust free of their shells, find their own mates, and, well, get it on — all part of the mysterious cycle of their mysterious existence. In their case: Have babies, then die.
Puzzle solved, we got on with our day, noting the skeletal casings of insect-shaped “cocoons” everywhere — deck, patio, porches, yard, driveway, garden. Check. They even crawled through the clay surface of a backyard tennis court in town.
We marveled at the decibels. I heard them in the morning while biking to the market in Pittsboro. I could still hear them back at our place after lunch even while Brian was mowing the pasture.
Soon the hum of their mating call faded into the background of our rural routine. We forgot they were there, just as we had while they hibernated politely underground for more than a decade.
After a family dinner our eldest granddaughter — Ryan, 5 — suggested a game of outdoor hide-and-seek. She and I would find a perfect hiding place and wait to be discovered.
Ryan and I raced to the giant beech tree about 50 feet from the patio. Just as we were ready to tuck our bodies against the tree’s far side, we noticed the bark seemed to be moving. Oh dear. Hundreds of cicadas were dragging their crispy tan shells up the tree. Holy locusts. They were evacuating a hole at the base of the trunk, teeming out like a rowdy arena crowd following a soccer match. (Indeed this crowd was almost as noisy as the South African fans at the World Cup last summer, and they’re just getting cranked up.)
We looked up. Shadows on every single leaf revealed twitchy cicadas perched for the mating dance. We looked around — most of the other trees were also completely infested by this population explosion.
Soon insects were dropping at our feet. We knelt to inspect these strange creatures: orange beady eyes, giant wings. Fierce determination.
We found ourselves on the lot of a science-fiction movie: Night of the Living Dead meets Them.
But instead of being frightened, Ryan was fascinated. “They’re everywhere,” she laughed.
Yep. They’re back, big time. And these pre-teen bugs are ready to boogie. Anybody seen my earplugs?
–Learn more and check out a video here.
‘Big Spoon’ Nutty Butters
By Lyle Estill
Tread softly and carry a Big Spoon
Last Saturday I rousted my two teenage sons early so that we could attend the opening day of the new Pittsboro Farmer’s Market. As we sped toward Chatham Mills I explained how important it was that we do our part for the foodshed by playing the role of “eaters.”
They were not impressed. Nor were they surprised that we were one week early, and that there was no new Farmer’s Market to attend. [It opens this Saturday April 16.]
Undaunted, I pushed on to Carrboro–to a market I have never attended. It was an extreme use of fuel–much further than I would ever normally drive for such a task– but I was in the mood to seize the day.
My first booth in Carrboro was Big Spoon. They had a selection of homemade nut butters that took me back to last fall, when a bunch of us shelled, roasted, and pureed peanuts grown at Piedmont Biofarm. Apparently they bottle up their wares at Ninth St. Bakery when baked goods are not coming off the line.
I bought a jar of peanut cashew–cashew nuts being one thing I miss horribly on my hundred-mile diet. What can I say? I was at the Carrboro Farmer’s Market. I was in a weird mood.
We made the rounds, loaded up on some chicken from Castle Rock Gardens–whom we recognized as a Slow Money participant--and we bought a bunch of bedding plants to force our own hand in the garden.
When we arrived home I cracked the Big Spoon for a sample on hot toast. Arlo loaded up a banana (his diet is not quite local yet–although I did point out that our bananas would be ready in the fall). Zafer vanished with just the jar and a spoon.
That was the last I saw of it. I fished the empty jar out of the recycle bin for Tami to photograph.
I thought it made a bold statement about the quality of the product. And I’m delighted to have Big Spoon doing their thing in Durham.
Rhymes with bumpkins
By Dee Reid
My spring garden started sprouting early this year. Even before my sugar-snaps germinated in late February, something unexpected sprung up in the pea patch. Looked like squash seedlings, but that couldn’t be, since my zucchinis and summer squash got wiped out by the bugs and worms last year, and the year before, come to think of it.
A few days after I disposed of the new squash look-alikes, the same sturdy little boogers started peeping up in the arugula bed. Then amidst the chard and red-leaf lettuce. Dang. Who invited these unexpected visitors anyway?
No problem, I kept snatching the volunteer seedlings up and tossing them away like weeds. But they kept on poking their perky little heads through the soil.
Soon the strangers were showing up in the bed I had prepared for tomatoes, but hadn’t even planted yet. What the heck?
Then I remembered. Last fall, I threw several rotting Halloween pumpkins into my compost bin. They bio-degraded very nicely, thank you very much, and I smugly dumped the most excellent results on all of my garden beds.
Now I’ve got pumpkin bumpkins sprouting all over the place. File this in the department of unintended consequences, next to the humility lessons.
Hmm, maybe next year I should save some zukes, instead of eating every last scrap, to throw in my compost pile . It may be the only way I’ll ever get a decent squash crop.
Just another reminder that no matter how efficient and earnest we are in the garden, we’re not always really in charge after all.
Got yer peas in yet?
By Dee Reid
It won't be too long....
When I moved from Washington DC to Chatham County in 1978 there was plenty of culture shock. But the biggest, and most pleasant, surprise of all was to find that nearly everyone grew their own food. I mean everyone.
Chatham is an agricultural county and three decades ago it was even more so. That was before so many mid-size family farms went out of business thanks to ‘”get big or get out” federal farm policies. Back then the farmers all had big vegetable gardens, even though their main commodities — chickens, turkeys, beef, eggs and milk — were shipped out of the county to be processed, sold and consumed elsewhere.
Chatham had no farmer’s markets then and the Carrboro Market was just getting underway. No whole food stores or cooperative groceries either. You had to drive to Chapel Hill to find decent cheese and whole wheat bread, and you couldn’t find a ripe tomato or peach in the local supermarkets if your life depended on it, even at the height of the growing season.
But if you were not a farmer, there still was plenty of real, home-grown food if you knew where to look.
Perhaps that was because our teachers, police officers, feed and seed dealers, bankers, carpenters, nurses, doctors and lawyers were often the sons and daughters of farmers. They knew how and when to sow and harvest. Regardless of what your day job was, you had a gigantic garden out back and you grew more than you could possibly eat or put up.
And the “back to the land” crowd arrived in the 1960s and ’70s to grow their own food, as a way of becoming more self-reliant. Some of them were early pioneers of Chatham’s small-scale sustainable agriculture movement.
Long before the word locavore had entered our lexicon, my Chatham neighbors and I were gorging on fresh local produce.
This means growing food was a primary topic of conversation. Heaven help you if you launched immediately into an inquiry about the latest gossip without first asking about one’s garden. Never mind, “How’s the family?” At this time of year, the big question always was, “Got yer peas in yet?”
It was a contest of sorts, a race against one’s neighbors, and, more importantly, a race against Winter. Around here, peas can go in the ground directly from seed in February, just about the time you’re completely fed up with the cold. For most folks, planting peas was the first official sign that winter would soon be over. Finally.
You can get your garden bed good and ready in January. Once you get a five-day snap of spring weather, you can press your pea seeds directly into the soil and expect them to germinate within a week. Getting your peas in early is what gets you through the rest of the winter doldrums.
So that’s exactly what I did this week-end. Got my sugar-snap peas in the ground and officially opened my backyard gardening season once again.
First I consulted Debbie and Doug’s Piedmont Planting and Harvesting Guide to make sure I wasn’t acting prematurely.
They advise that trellis peas, like my sugar snaps, can be stuck in the soil anytime after Feb. 15 (and dwarf peas even earlier). If the soil hasn’t warmed up yet, just cover it with plastic until the seeds germinate.
Once the peas germinate, it hardly matters how cold it gets (and yes, we know it will probably freeze again before spring really arrives for good). Not to worry; peas love a good chill.
Same goes for arugula, something we never heard of thirty years ago. Doug and Debbie advise that you can plant argula seeds directly in the soil anytime after Feb. 15. Once they germinate, they too love the cold.
“Yep, got my peas in, and my arugula,” I can say now, with pride. “But I sure do wish it would rain.”
Valentine on Groundhog Day
The Farmers' Almanac says we've gained 40 minutes of daylight (Image by PhineasX via Flickr)
Here’s an excerpt on midwinter bleakness on the brink of spring, from one of my favorite local writers, John Valentine, published on Groundhog Day in The Independently Weekly:
The best way to mulch blueberry bushes is on your hands and knees, and that’s where I’ve been. This is the best time for housecleaning in the blueberry patch, too, so that’s why, on early winter mornings, I’ve tucked armfuls of pine straw around old gray trunks and stalks. The ground is cold and crusty, strands of ice still crazy-quilted with last year’s leaves.
But every two feet or so, eager, deep red, fresh blueberry shoots poke through the brown loamy cover, ready for 2011. Deer have noticed them, too: Several tender clusters have been chewed down to a few inches above the ground. But my faithful sentries—our three ever-sniffing, ever-poking dogs—have noticed the deer. Maybe we’ll call this the pre-game.
Spring is too many weeks away, but these tiny signs are such sweet reminders that we won’t always be waking to frosty, black ice dawns. I always get a little giddy flipping through the Farmers’ Almanac from the local feed and seed store. Checking the charts, I see we gained nearly 40 minutes of daylight, mostly in the evening. In January, the sun set almost a half hour later. In early February, the sun’s still low, passing through the upper branches and casting dark shadows at noon. I can’t wait for it to finally cross the sky above the pine forest bordering the orchard. It won’t be long, either: We gain another hour of daylight in this short month.
The garden is cleared; tomato and pepper cages are piled, ready, around the fence. All is still, other than the birds feasting on the compost from the chicken coop, and, of course, the cat watching the birds….
February 4, 2011 at 9:14 pm Sustainable Grub Leave a comment
Time to get real about a real-food system
Here’s an excerpt from an interview that Local Eats editor Jen Dalton had with Mark Bittman
as he was leaving behind his ‘Minimalist’ column for The New York Times, to begin a weekly op-ed and longer pieces in the Sunday magazine. Bittman, who wrote one of my favorite cook books, Food Matters, talks about the changes that need to happen to build a saner, just, healthy real-food system for America, beginning with us. Read the full piece in Civil Eats.
“The four main issues in food right now are sustainability, nutrition, getting people in the kitchen to cook, and regulation and policy. Until a few years ago, I spent almost all of my time working on helping people to learn to cook—now I’m spending more time now working on and thinking about the others…
“It’s fine to talk about how terrific food is, to be interested in and focus on wonderful food, how it’s made, how’s it’s cooked, all the joy it can bring. The simple fact is that’s not all there is to it. Not everyone has access to wonderful food, so to focus exclusively on that is short-sighted. We need to look at policies, many of which were put in place before any of us were paying attention (or born, for that matter)…..
“I’d like to see a fairer form of taxation, subsidies moved from one place to another; a stronger FDA, a more sensible USDA (really, the USDA should be broken into two agencies, one for agribusiness and one for consumers); and emphasis and support of regional food and food grown at small farms, by farmers making a decent wage. Oh, and better treatment of farmworkers and animals. And, of course, an increase in home cooking and support for that. That’s already a lot, but I think we can make some progress towards those goals in the near future….
“Shopping at farmers’ markets and growing our own food is nice, but this isn’t a back-to-the-land movement—at least not for most people—this is a how-the-hell-are-we-going-to-make-big-changes movement. We have enemies, mostly in big corporations, and we have to figure out how to force them to change their ways. A detailed manifesto of this would take some time to put together, but it’s possible.
“Of course two years ago, many thought Obama was going to make a big difference, but regardless of what you think of the President’s or First Lady’s efforts it’s become more clear than ever that if citizens want change it has to come from the ground up. Only we can push the government and the corporations to make change; no one is going to do it for us.
“The real question is ‘Does change happen because we win some important battles, or does it happen because the country or the world experiences some unforeseen disaster that wakes us up?’ I’m not rooting for disaster, but I’d guess we see either significant change or disaster—or both—in the next 20 years; food-wise, scary things are right around the corner. Typically, though, Americans need bad situations to bring about significant change.
“I don’t know if the movement really exists yet; it’s just starting. It would be great if there were some loud, clear and consistent voices out there. Michael Pollan has become a force to be reckoned with, and you can tell that because he’s regularly attacked by the food industry–how great is that? …
“We just need more and more people fighting for food policy that benefits everyone. Right now the so-called movement feels like a few thousand people talking about it to each other…
“We need a new anti-war movement, one that’s not only anti-war but pro-food and, of course, pro-justice in all arenas. This is not a small thing!
“… we need to build community, and two things that do that are CSAs and real co-ops, and here I’m talking about community-run supermarkets….
“In the 70s, I worked as a community organizer. It seems I was saying the same things: we need a bigger voice, we need more activity. It remains true; but as important as it was then to fight against the war, to fight for racial and gender and economic justice—well, gee, guess what? The same issues remain important.
“Food is a big one, but it’s all the same struggle; it’s a struggle for power. If this is a democracy, let’s run it. If it’s not a democracy, let’s fight it. Only by acting that way will we be moving towards real food, good food, for everyone. And I might note that when I say everyone I mean everyone—not just Americans but humans.”
–Jen Dalton is the editor of the Local Eats series, which features stories of how cities all over the United States are rebuilding local food systems from the ground up; and the co-founder of Kitchen Table Talks, a local food forum in San Francisco. Jen is also a communications and branding consultant who works to promote sustainable businesses, local economies and good food. She was the former Programs Director for Slow Food Nation.
‘Twas two days before Solstice…
By Dee Reid
’Twas two days before Solstice,
When Winter should come,
Not a great day for gardeners
Or so would say some.
But I went to the garden
With chores to complete,
Turn the soil,
Fill with compost
And dream about heat.
Still grieving the freeze,
The ice and the snow,
Not expecting to find
Much at all left to grow.
No tomatoes, no squash,
Not even my Chard
(My Rainbow had fallen,
I took this quite hard.)
When I tore off the Reemay
What the heck did appear?
Four heads of lettuce
With nothing to fear
No bugs, no mice.
Nor snakes, nor deer
Them greens were sturdy
At the end of the year.
Still tender, still tasty
Their leaves green and red
I thanked them
For thriving
All snug in their bed.
Yes, winter has come
The garden is spare
Still we must thank Earth
For what IS still there.
So take to your gardens
And tend to your beds
Protect what you sowed
Use your hearts
And your heads.
The planet will feed us
And give us a hand
If we all do our part
And take care of the land.
–Happy holidays y’all.
Food Matters
By Dee Reid
I haven’t bought a cookbook in years. When I need a fresh idea for dinner, I Google a new recipe or improvise on an old one based on what’s in the fridge and the pantry. Yet one of the most important books I’ve read, and re-read, this year is Food Matters, by Mark Bittman, the New York Times Minimalist columnist.
Of course it’s not really a cookbook, but rather, as the subtitle claims, “A Guide to Conscious Eating.” The fact that it includes 75 recipes is a bonus.
Bittman’s premise is that we can change our impact on the world and our health by making a few simple but profound adjustments in the way we eat and cook for the rest of our lives. After reading his book and following his advice, I believe he’s right.
This is not about losing weight, though if you follow Bittman, you will inevitably shed pounds. It’s also not about counting calories, because if you eat wisely, you can eat as much as you want (and even splurge on the high-cal stuff once in a while).
Bittman’s plan requires no secret ingredients or complicated rules. And it won’t cost you more than you’re already spending on your diet, because you’ll be cooking more and spending less money on meat and junk.
He says, simply, we should eat less meat and processed foods, and more fruits, vegetables, legumes and whole grains. Sounds like Michael Pollan right? The only difference is that Bittman shows us how to do this with ease and flavor, and without breaking the grocery budget.
Bittman believes that food matters more than just nutritionally. Industrial agriculture depends on petroleum-based pesticides and transportation, producing more than its share of carbon emissions, thereby contributing to climate change. What’s more, factory meat farms use too many hormones and antibiotics, and also degrade the landscape. And processed food contains too much fat and high fructose corn syrup, contributing to diabetes, obesity and other diseases.
Okay, we knew this. While Bittman acknowledges it will take wholesale policy revisions to dramatically reduce Big Ag’s impact on climate change, he shows that what we do in our own household will matter, and may influence policy change down the road. That got my attention.
“Eating a typical family-of-four steak dinner is the rough equivalent, energy-wise, of driving around in an SUV for three hours, while leaving all the lights on at home,” he writes. “If we each ate the equivalent of three fewer cheeseburgers a week, we’d cancel out the effects of all the SUVs in the country. Not bad.”
The Minimalist is not interested in tying anyone to the kitchen stove. He takes a practical approach to cooking and shopping. Stock the pantry with basic staples (flour, grains, olive oil, herbs and spices) and the fridge with fresh fruit, vegetables , eggs, cheese and if you like enough meat to enhance your meals. Do this and you should be able to whip up a great healthy dinner in no time.
He also recommends cooking up a pot of beans and a pot of grains every week, so that you’ll have the basis for many meals that can be put together quickly.
Cook up a big batch of your favorite meal and freeze some for those times when you’re too busy to plan dinner. Take the leftovers to the office for lunch.
For folks who don’t know how to do this, he includes a simple daily plan with recipes. I’ve tried his approach and he’s right: it has transformed the way I shop, cook and eat, all for the better.
Now you’ll have to excuse me while I re-heat my favorite tomato-white-bean-onion soup and grab a slice of the no-knead bread that was baking while I wrote this. I’m about to do my bit to reduce global warming the Bittman way.
Earth’s essentials
By Dee Reid
My fall garden wasn’t worth a damn. None of the lettuce and chard seeds I planted in August and September had germinated (too hot). The transplants I tried a little later wilted (too dry) and the last burst of summer tomatoes just seemed to be stagnant on the vine (too everything).
I watered of course, but it just wasn’t enough. Earth was peeved and there was nothing I could do about it.
Then weather man said it might rain (I’ve heard that line before). Ever hopeful, I dumped a load of compost on the beds, just in case. And waited for something good to happen.
Two hours later the sky opened up. Today, after a couple of days of steady, delicious rain, the sun came out. I missed my garden and wondered if anything good had happened while I was hibernating indoors. When I walked past the beds on my way to get the morning papers, I was startled by bright red orbs beckoning.
On further inspection, I found a respectable crop of ripe tomatoes and a bed of downright perky greens. The chard transplants seemed to be waving at me, and the lettuce was starting to look like salad. Leafy sweet potatoe vines were everywhere.
Seeds that lay dormant for weeks, were now poking their new tops through the topsoil. And a volunteer squash plant had sprawled across its bed.
It seems they had all been waiting patiently for the essential rain and cooler temperatures that only Earth could provide, and just in time.
I bet she’s wondering when and if we will start doing our part to get our climate back in balance, before it’s too late.
A chance to change the world
Richard Heinberg
By Richard Heinberg
[Editor's Note: Worcester (MA) Polytechnic Institute invited Rex Tillerson, CEO of ExxonMobil, to give the 2011 commencement speech. Students wanted another perspective so they invited peak-oil expert Richard Heinberg, who was permitted to speak following the main ceremony. Here's an excerpt from his remarks, reprinted from the full text in Yes Magazine.]
Whatever field you go into—business, finance, engineering, transportation, agriculture, education, or entertainment—your experience will be shaped by the energy transition that is now under way. The better you understand this, the more effectively you will be able to contribute to society and make your way in the world.
We are at one of history’s great turning points. During your lifetime you will see world changes more significant in scope than human beings have ever witnessed before. You will have the opportunity to participate in the redesign of the basic systems that support our society—our energy system, food system, transport system, and financial system.
I say this with some confidence, because our existing energy, food, transport, and financial systems can’t be maintained under the circumstances that are developing—circumstances of fossil fuel depletion and an unstable climate. As a result, what you choose to do in life could have far greater implications than you may currently realize.
Over the course of your lifetime society will need to solve some basic problems:
Each of these core problems will take time, intelligence, and courage to solve. This is a challenge suitable for heroes and heroines, one that’s big enough to keep even the greatest generation in history fully occupied. If every crisis is an opportunity, then this is the biggest opportunity humanity has ever seen.
Making the best of the circumstances that life sends our way is perhaps the most important attitude and skill that we can hope to develop. The circumstance that life is currently serving up is one of fundamentally changed economic conditions. As this decade and this century wear on, we Americans will have fewer material goods and we will be less mobile. In a few years we will look back on late 20th century America as time and place of advertising-stoked consumption that was completely out of proportion to what Nature can sustainably provide. I suspect we will think of those times—with a combination of longing and regret—as a lost golden age of abundance, but also a time of foolishness and greed that put the entire world at risk.
Making the best of our new circumstances will mean finding happiness in designing higher-quality products that can be re-used, repaired, and recycled almost endlessly; and finding fulfillment in human relationships and cultural activities rather than mindless shopping.
Fortunately, we know from recent cross-cultural psychological studies that there is little correlation between levels of consumption and happiness. That tells us that life can in fact be better without fossil fuels.
So whether we view these as hard times or as times of great possibility is really a matter of perspective. I would emphasize the latter. This is a time of unprecedented opportunity for service to one’s community. It’s a time when it will be possible to truly change the world, because the world has to change anyway. It is a time when you can make a difference by helping to shape this needed and inevitable change.
As I travel, I meet young people in every part of this country who are taking up the challenge of building a post-petroleum future: a 25-year-old farmer in New Jersey who plows with horses and uses no chemicals; the operator of a biodiesel co-op in Northampton; a solar installer in Oakland, California. The energy transition will require new thinking in every field you can imagine, from fine arts to banking. Companies everywhere are hiring sustainability officers to help guide them through the challenges and opportunities. At the same time, many young people are joining energy and climate activist organizations like 350.org and Transition Initiatives.
So here is my message to you in a nutshell: Fossil fuels made it possible to build the world you have inhabited during your childhood and throughout your years in the education system. Now it’s up to you to imagine and build the world after fossil fuels. This is the challenge and opportunity of your lifetimes. I wish you good cheer and good luck as you make the most of it.
–Richard Heinberg is a senior fellow at the Post Carbon Institute and the author of The Party’s Over: Oil, War, and the Fate of Industrial Societies, Peak Everything: Waking Up to the Century of Declines, and The End of Growth: Adapting to Our New Economic Reality.
June 2, 2011 at 12:43 pm Sustainable Grub Leave a comment