495: rush river blueberry picking

Last night, my darling husband spent two hours with me in baby-chaos, registering for all kinds of baby-shaped items, our eyes sleepy, a box o' crib bungeed into my trunk. He lugged that one hundred pound box out of the trunk and up the stairs, giving Kelly's ant comparison credence.

And this morning, Ryan woke me with this adorably wise plan to pick blueberries. Inside the car, I discovered he had filled up my tank with gas. Halfway to Maiden Rock, he said to me, "You're not terribly observant, are you?" Oh woe is the poet who cannot see the world so clearly. It turns out he took my car in and replaced all the tires--and there, none of the previous vibrations or shaking or car misalignment.

And now, I am winter-safe, full of blueberries. We brought three and a half pounds home, and I have plans for a crumble, muffins, freezing some to go with the raspberries that will become smoothies in winter. In Minnesota, it's all about winter-preparation. This one is going to be magical.

490: two birthdays, a dinner on the farm

Last night we joined the Urtels and Chris for a dinner on the farm (a summertime organized picnic where chefs and sustainable farms are paired together for an evening of education and good food) at Thousand Hills Cattle Company, located in Cannon Falls, where the cows are not only grass-fed, but sustainably-so. The cows only graze one or two days in an area of the pasture, and then that grass is allowed to recover, and with the natural cow-fertilizer, there is no need for additional harmful fertilizers to be added to the mix. Todd Churchill, pictured above, is especially interested in raising cows that produce gourmet-quality beef, and though I am taking a break from vegetarianism during my pregnancy, I do want to be more mindful of the meat I consume while I'm journeying into the world of rich proteins. Aside from the sweat bee and ant stings I acquired, and that sweltering walk up a hill (oh, out of shapeness!), it was a gorgeous evening--I felt pretty cozy and content.


For Lane's birthday, we headed into the farms of Wisconsin to Dave's BrewFarm, which is wind powered. The boys got tipsy after their eight-drink sampler, and yes, I did take one sip of each, and I do have a favorite, and I tell you, this baby needs training early for alcohol tolerance anyway, so no worries.


For Angie's birthday, of which I have no photographs (earlier in the pregnancy--was feeling pretty ripely nauseous and had to focus on being present), we went to Nosh in Lake City, a fancy seasonal restaurant, where I tried squash blossoms for the first time and had the best potato soup ever. After, we went to Falconer Vineyards, which has recently added a back deck and has applied for a permit to sell wood-fired pizza, for a Justin Roth concert.

402: some green in winter

My worms arrived in the mail about a week ago and have begun to bunker down in my new vermicompost bin. This one has more clear walls, so, in my laziness, I can keep a better eye on development, and it is smaller, which feels a bit more manageable, though I hope it's not frustrating to the worms themselves. A few nights ago we came home, and I thought I saw a stray stick the dogs brought in with a white spider moving along--I was proud at my bravery in approach, but I discovered one of the worms had slipped from the bin, which would be fine if it were outdoors, but in this house, there's little but more dirt and more dirt to be found on the ground.



Because it is winter, from what I've learned from Chris, they can, indeed, arrive in a bit of a ball: due to the sub-zero temperatures, those little guys furiously shimmy and move around one another in a lump to keep warm.


Last night my good (and so old friend--it's been a while, hasn't it?) friend Angie and I went to see a reading of Green Barbarians at Magers + Quinn. Of course, the two of us come from drastically different backgrounds when it comes to a bookish event, so me, with my university internship and what else, was expecting a more "professional reading," until I realized any crowd called on by the green movement will feel a bit antsy, a bit like Wellstone's memorial so many years past, that cheer at a call to action, that demand for more information.

[Side note: I went to that memorial disastrously saddened, and I get all bleary-eyed as soon as I begin a full discussion of Wellstone. I remember the day he passed, the call from Kelly, the call to E, the "who will take care of us now?" question she asked, the calling of my father, the desperation. the aloneness, the shape of my apartment at that time.]

Each bit she read was compelling, and eventually we discovered the impetus (one of which) for the book was that her father was a hypochondriac for his last 47 years, and she was exhausted by the "corporate machine," which, I think, a great deal of us are, so she sought to negate some of those myths.

From where I am, just now: we don't shop at Wal-Mart or Target and haven't for a long, long while. We've enjoyed the works of Pollan, have joined a CSA, all of that. But we also aren't about to ban corn from our household, which is what one audience member proclaimed to do, and I respect that, but I think it's especially important to not replace one brain-washing machine with another.

The idea, in fact, is to be mindful.

And that is what I'm trying to do.


A few notes from my first class of the spring 2010 semester. I'll try to keep up, and I hope any classmates (or anyone else!) who wander on over will feel OK adding their own perspective / disagreements / etc. My filter can be off, quite often!

Also to come: last weekend. I've gone from some strange hermitage to socializing quickly, and on Saturday, I had a few foibles in the cities with Brianna and Meryl, and on Sunday, Ryan and I headed up northwest to have the holidays with Kelly and her sweetest son Christian.

367: no impact week, days six + seven + eight

Day 6: Water. We're pretty low water users as it is, though I admit, my showers are probably longer than most (I shave every day, which makes me strange, I know). The largest waste of water is when we homebrew and bring the temperature down using a garden hose, though in the summers, we use jugs to fill up quickly and I bring them out to the garden. In the winter, it's a bit trickier and I can only make sure the largest buckets are full (to use for the pups and the indoor plants). Otherwise, we only run full loads of clothes and dishes and because it's just the two of us, it takes a while for that to happen.


Day 7: Giving Back. Today wasn't about taking out the checkbook, though I can say I do what I can (my two most recent donations were to an anti-smoking campaign and Julia's work, both in honor of people I care about). Instead, today, for Ryan and myself, it was about the garden. We took it down, harvesting the last of the Brussels sprouts and broccoli, and we built our very first ComposTumbler! It's already full, but I'm hoping we will be able to work our way through composting fairly quickly in comparison to the pile method I had earlier (which, actually, worked quite fine). We also mulched in the vermicompost and leaves from the gutters, all rich and gooey, and I started the worm compost bin over with the handful of remaining worms and brought the bin in for the winter. I'm surprised any worms survived the cold and the snow we had in October, but they are strong and I'm hoping they'll make baby wormies and fill the bin with more rich worm poo. I promise to take better care of them.


Day 8: Eco Sabbath. Here I am, writing on my laptop, getting ready to take a shower, Ryan is mopping in the kitchen, we will be making fish for dinner as I am hosting book club along with boiling vegetables and using the refrigerator to cool the wine, Ryan is going to leave soon to go to Meat Heads, our local butcher to which his mother gave us a gift certificate, and on. I cannot have a sabbath today; not with guests coming and Thanksgiving around the corner and this week being a big one for school. But I do fully respect the spirit of this day. I admire the concept of the idea of celebrating staying at home, not consuming, family game night, crafts, whatnot.


I'm making decisions and small changes that I hope will more permanently reflect how I feel about this earth. When we get to that children-having point of our lives, I hope to fill the house with toys that are eco-conscious, those sweet wooden options and repurposed goods. I want the emphasis in our home to be on handmade and being mindful and loving.

I think this week wasn't entirely about "no impact" as much as it was about "scrutinizing options to make yourself lower impact." Small shift, small steps, better planet. And I admit, sometimes writing or talking about these choices I've made, especially with those who haven't made the same choices, often makes me feel uncomfortable. I believe strongly in living more ecologically-mindedly, but I always feel those choices have to belong to someone. I may tease some for shopping at Target, but really, we do what we feel comfortable with; I have never felt comfortable with telephone fundraisers or faith converters or anything of that ilk. I think, instead, I'd rather live by example, even if I'm more often more a shoddy example than anything else. I include my husband in these choices--he may peripherally feel the impact, but I never want to make him feel uncomfortable, and it always makes me a little glowy when he makes concessions for me without my request--buying organic eggs instead of standard or bringing home fruit from the farmer's market.

366: no impact week, days four + five

Image: from Redwoods Sapling Trio on Organic Bouquet

A little while back, I wrote of how my grandmother has been spending time in a nursing home environment for rehabilitation for her hip, which she broke in three places after a tumble from an examining table at the doctor's office. Tonight I began a little something for her, a get-well gift I hope to be done with before I leave her home over Thanksgiving break, but I've been thinking about the act of sending someone flowers--in celebration, in sympathy, in best wishes. I found this website: Organic Bouquet. It's so beautiful I snuck one of their images to put on my blog, a thing I don't do so very often; I also am in love with the idea of the Yule Tree to Be and there's blood orange and olive and rosemary--what better way to express your sentiments? The bouquets are organically grown and sustainable and look gorgeous and full. And wreaths! I am in love with the six herb wreath and the simplicity of the rosemary is nice too (minus the calla).

Day 4: Food! I've begun to slowly transfer more regular shopping to Simple Abundance, our local health foods store, which carries organic and local options as well as plenty of holistic healing options. For my new recipe this Wednesday, I picked up over half the ingredients on my list and purchased my free range turkey that I will cook for our Thanksgiving feast. I hope to make Simple Abundance a weekly stop, especially for Ryan's meats. We usually buy Lorentz, which is located twenty minutes away and mentioned in Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma in a positive light, but our local grocery store seems to have stopped carrying their products. We were purchasing wine for book club and I weighed the options: organic versus local? We wound up picking local as it fits better with what I'm serving.

Some websites that have helped me in the past with local eating:
- Finding a CSA at Local Harvest
- 100 mile diet and 100 foot diet
- freedom gardens

Day 5: Energy. Oh, all of our energy-sucking computers. I have put some lights on timers, particularly since I hate going upstairs in the dark. If I go to bed at a regular hour, I know the timer will click off the lamp a few minutes after me, which is a relief on two levels. We've gotten good about the heat and air conditioning, mainly because Ryan likes to save money--the temperature is constantly kept either too low or too high for comfort, which results in our learning to dress properly and in winter, pile on the blankets and wear fuzzy slippers. We've also recently gotten an HE washer and dryer (last winter?) and love it, using less detergent and energy as we clean.

My biggest energy suck will always be in transportation and I thank Emily for pointing out the fact that I cannot compare myself to those in different circumstances. I simply don't live near work, won't sell this house to move to the Twin Cities, and when I'm done with my graduate degree, plan to go by the date as opposed to the mileage when it comes to oil changes. For now, I do what I can within my comfort zone. I'm afraid if we go outside our comfort zone, we might burn out, become bitter, start shopping at Wal-Mart and eating fast food because we crave that convenience we are lacking in our everyday lives. And me? I'd rather not burn out. I'd rather continue to make small adjustments so everyday becomes greener without frustration or exhaustion.

365: no impact week, days two + three

Yesterday's theme was trash.

I'm the sort whose house is incredibly cluttered because I keep thinking: I could probably use this for... I have tons of mailers from etsy purchases that I'm hanging onto, waiting to mail out my own set-of-letterpress-cards-shaped mail. I have handouts from all my classes. I have fabric and yarn and books I need to read and give away. But I think what I need to do is begin to learn how to de-clutter. A messy house is often the source of my anxieties, getting ready for guests, or even just sitting down to getting something done--not possible when every surface has a stack of books, a half-finished knitting project, the holiday gifts in sorted boxes, waiting to be wrapped and tucked away. (Speaking of which, some people are getting holiday gifts in wedding bags this year; I saved mine, of course, and I am desperate to get rid of them.) I don't think I'll ever need to or will buy another gift bag or wrapping paper; after this, I'm going to use other resources for clever wrapping, and I have enough friends and family who don't mind the re-purposing of bags, so we often see the same ones over and over. Fortunately, we have people like Kelly, who introduce adorable bags into the cycle.

This kind of consciousness is exhausting because it's easy to always second-guess yourself. I grew up in comfort, where we didn't scrutinize packaging, and thus, I'm not used to thinking overtly of the layers we protect things in. I think my solution is less to scrutinize the garbage a product creates, and I think I'm mostly thinking food here, as that is the product we most often bring into our home (with books coming at a close second, and they require no packaging), and if I'm eating "better," then I'm automatically eating with less garbage created--TV dinners, highly processed meats, these are the objects I think of when I think of large amounts of garbage, and they're no longer entering my home with my own purchasing.

Of course, with food, I can proudly add that Ryan and I will soon be the new owners of a CompsTumbler, the little back porch sort, and I am also a vermicomposter. We homebrew, we garden, and I truly can say I love making with my hands.

A little follow-up to the shopping post: I found this blog post via Stephanie Congdon Barnes' blog about the ways in which building community becomes a factor in purchasing. It's fitting since yesterday I went into her shop, and I cannot help but love those pine cones. (Can you blame me?)

Today's theme is transportation, which is a bit of a shameful subject for me. I commute an hour to campus.

The story is this, for those who don't know it: Ryan and I had been dating forever. We knew we were going to continue to do so, and we were sick of the long distance relationship. When he had a job in Winona and I got my first teaching job in Lakeville, places two hours apart, we decided to find somewhere halfway and instead of commuting one weekends to one another, commute daily to our jobs. Ironically, a few months after we bought our house at the halfway point, he got a new job in St Paul, which is close to Lakeville, a suburb of the Twin Cities. We've owned our house for four years now, love our community, and both don't particularly feel like leaving. I also don't know what will happen to me when I am done with graduate school--I may teach closer to home, I may try finding a job in the community, I may get lucky enough to simply write at home (yeah right, I hear my husband humming). As I write this, I am on campus and my husband is a few miles away in his cubicle at work; because of our dogs and our schedules, we don't get a lot of opportunity to carpool, so we will both be driving the hour home separately. I have a sneaky feeling Angie, who is doing this challenge as well, can easily brag that she has put no miles on her car these past three days, whereas when I parked my car this morning, I glanced down at the odometer (the trip one, which I started at zero just for this challenge, so I could report in the exact miles at the end of the week) and I was creeping up to 300. That's right, in three days I've put three hundred miles on my car, and I have one more campus day left for the week. Of course, this week is a bit unique in that I had to come up on Sunday for a reading party for the literary magazine I am poetry editor for, but generally speaking, three days a week with an occasional extra (book club, knitting group, poetry collective, literary reading, etc.) thrown in. My car, which is eleven years old, is at nearly 200,000 miles and chugging along (it's a Toyota Camry, in case you are curious, and according to the family-owned mechanics I've taken it in to, they swear it probably has another 100,000 miles left, which is fortunate, because I'm passing it along to a friend in the next few months as my mother is passing along her hand-me-down, a 2003 Toyota Camry). At least the little-impact here is that the cars we drive are driven to their last mile and then some. And the graduate student in me is grateful for the reliability of a car that can do that and can make it fifty plus miles in the dark after class with nothing but corn fields and corn fields and fallow fields and maybe a few cows.

When at home, most of what I need is accessible by foot: the library, the post office, the book shop, the health foods store, and I can say, if it's not stopping on the way to or from campus, I do manage to walk the dozen blocks to downtown, to the Mississippi River. Walking has that added bonus of meditation, I believe, and thus, it's a peaceful act for me to travel by foot to run my errands, my favorite canvas sacks tipped over my shoulder.

364: no impact week, day one

Oh, timing; as I got into the car to drive up to the dislocate reading party, a song called "Recessionista" by the Mood Swings was on The Current. She was singing about buying from flea markets and thrift stores and whatnot, and even though it was economically driven, it did fit into day one of No Impact Week.

So this week I'm joining Angie in a little No Impact experiment, using this guide to scrutinize my habits and consumption.

Today's theme is shopping. This is a tricky one for me, as my priorities have shifted. It's important to me to shop local and support mindful shops, so we've cut out places like Target and Wal-Mart permanently. This has, consequently, cut out a great deal of that impulse shopping that cursed me, particularly when Target was a regular part of my weekly rotation.

However, I've been gearing up for the holidays; this year I've got three nephews to attend to, and a great list of handmade gifts I'd love to tackle. I also have a mild book addiction, and for now, I protest the Kindle and Kindle-like offshoots, though like vegetarianism, I restrict my snobbishness to my own consumption; if Ryan were to embrace the Kindle, and he says he wouldn't use it and thus it is not worth it, then I would, reluctantly, accept it.

Anyone who has been to my home knows there is a slight overload of books. I celebrate the support of authors, I celebrate the support of local and independent bookstores, I celebrate the act of learning. I still use the libraries, mainly for those kinds of escape books that sell intense amounts of books, and for books on CD for my long commute (oh, transportation day, how I dread you). I'm a consumer of books, mainly.

I also enjoy indulging those I love. I've enjoyed shopping at places such as Etsy, Nova Natural, Uncommon Goods, and Imagine Childhood for the wee ones; my shopping for the holidays isn't taking the tone of the frantic Black Friday but instead something more mindful and meaningful. And truthfully? Many of my gifts are by hand this year, but most, truly, are from independent printers and sources that celebrate using sustainable resources (no plastic for me, thanks) and whatnot.

Of course, there are daily bits that could be adjusted. There always are. Here are my only two items of garbage I created today and eco-alternatives I found, which I will track a total for this week as well as the exact number of miles I drive in my car, which will be astronomical in comparison to others:

:: Q-tips: I'm one of those who washes my hair every day, shaves every day, and must follow my morning routine, even if it is truly low-maintenance. One garbage-producing step is cleaning my ears, which, I know, I know, I shouldn't really be doing anyway. I found a post on eco cotton swabs, which remind us that cleaning our ears daily isn't so wise anyway. This blogger's tip was Simply Organic Cotton Buds, which will help my neurosis.
:: Facial Pads: I use cotton pads, but it makes complete sense to find some sort of washable alternative, as one finds with cloth diapers. Here are a few on etsy: crocheted circles + crocheted flowers. There's also these organic towelettes and the bear naked wipes, which benefit polar bear habitat.

237: making mozzarella

This Sunday we met at Angie's house, a first homesteading get together, and made mozzarella with this recipe, followed up by homemade pizza. I would say the experiment was a success, and I hope will be the first of many get togethers of this lovely band of women who are interested in making more mindful choices about living. And homemade pizza plus homebrewed wine plus good conversation is always a lovely combination.

191

So a few of my Minnesota girl friends and I have gotten together and are chatting on a blog I've loosely called "homesteading." The idea behind it came from this post of my friend Angie, where she suggested we get together and trade skills: crafts, home improvements, gardening, whatnot. We're united by wanting to live more eco-conscious lives, more slow fooding, more gardening, more sustainable lifestyles, more handmade gifting, and on. I have kept it Minnesotan, mainly to share resources: farmer's markets, CSAs, shops, classes. And, I hope, maybe we'll be able to have get togethers too, where we can teach each other in person: where we wrestle with sewing machines and knitting needles, try new recipes and trade seeds, check out worm bins and glass studios.

If you're wondering what the above might be all about: homemade dog treats.

It's a learning process, and we welcome any suggestions and ideas. And baby steps. It's the slow pleasure of it that makes the change permanent, turns it into a habit.

168: Blue Winter

Yesterday's snow seemed unreal: that fluffy sort that blows away in your cupped hands, the kind that sparkles at night, that is kicked up by the snow blower in moments, that belongs in department store windows.

I love this blue of winter.

I'm loving wool blankets.

I'm loving the new cookbook I picked up at work today: Minnesota Homegrown. I started reading the introductory essay by Garrison Keillor as the last few minutes of my shift slipped by and I loved what he said here:

"But the greatest prize is for the boy hoeing the tomatoes who reaches down and rescues one and wipes the dust off and bites into it. That is pure pleasure, a privilege offered to few, and after it, you will never be happy with any tomato you buy in a store. You hold it to your nose and there is no tomatoness there whatsoever. It was bred for shelf life and strip-mined in Mexico, or the Imperial Valley of California, and artificially ripened, and now it has no more tomato essence than your shoe. This is why vinaigrette was invited: to provide some flavor for denatured vegetables."

The bookstore owner's daughter is returning from two years in publishing in New York City; she's looking for some adventures before she applies to the Iowa Writer's Workshop (in nonfiction), and will spend some time working on a nearby organic farm (which, it looks like, might just be next year's best CSA candidate for us) (after, she hopes to go over to China to teach for a year).

I'm loving these small pleasures in life: the box of oranges, the soft touch of bamboo knitting needles, the kiss before sleep and snuggling beneath down comforters, the floury mess on my pizza peel (and loving that book--thank you, Angie!), that fleeting winter light, how I wish I could hold it all in just a little bit longer.

PS: See more of the blue winter photo series here.