Author Archives: Shawndra Miller

To Look Up

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It hit me hard last week when the Audubon Society reported that half of North American birds’ migratory routes are threatened by climate change.

If loons find it too hot to summer in Minnesota, then what? You’d think they should just aim farther north, but will they find the food and cover that matches their needs? Are they supposed to migrate higher and higher till they fly right off the planet’s roof?

By Pete Markham, via Wikimedia Commons

By Pete Markham, via Wikimedia Commons

The scenario is not confined to some far-off future. It’s now. Southern California saw 90 to 95 percent of raptor nests failing because of drought. No nests, no procreation. How long can a species survive climate disruption?

I find I can’t stay with this topic; it’s too painful.

I felt the same last month, learning about a gigantic crater that opened in the Siberian permafrost. Scientists link the melting to warmer-than-normal summers the last two years, and say such sinkholes release vast amounts of methane.

Methane gas is more efficient at trapping radiation than carbon dioxide, with 20 times the impact on climate change, according to the EPA.

In Eaarth: Making a Life on a Tough New Planet, Bill McKibben describes a number of self-reinforcing feedback loops that lead to a faster and faster rate of climate change. The crater is just one example. He explains the feedback loops in this video.

Here we are, immersed in our lives, going around feeling one minute one way, the next another. I feel despondent. I cheer up. My writing goes well. My writing goes poorly. I help someone. I say something dumb. I worry over my sick cat. I celebrate her recovery. I walk around my neighborhood and love the trees. I come home and feel lonely, pleased, scared, self-satisfied, hopeless, and on and on.

I’m a dizzying universe. As are we all. Most of us barely keep it together, doing what needs to be done to meet the day-to-day demands of life.

And all the while, this other thing is winging above us. This bigger picture of demise.

Rise up...

And to look up invites so much pain, which we already have aplenty.

Two things help me face the times we live in. One is external, the other internal.

On the external side, I reach out, take action, make something, do something. I connect with neighbors who care as deeply as I do. Or join a demonstration, like this Sunday’s People’s Climate March in New York City. (I will join a crowd closer to home, at the People’s Climate Gathering in Bloomington.)

I plant a seed. I get moving.

On the internal side, I stay still and connect with what endures. I remind myself that matter is just slow energy, and energy can’t be destroyed. Feeling into my energy body takes me to a place beyond fear. Whatever the future brings, it will be better if I stay in this moment.

“Look up and see the light from the sun. And now see everything beneath it, everything around you. You are in the garden.”

—Karen Maezen Miller, Paradise in Plain Sight

Note: If you’re on the fence about joining this weekend’s events, read Rebecca Solnit’s new essay. “Only great movements, only collective action can save us now,” she writes.

Reconnecting

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Today I enjoyed time with two friends in two separate food-related endeavors. One of them crazy enough to get up early and go questing for a supposedly killer purslane haul. The other tenacious enough to spend several hours shredding produce in my kitchen to make two varieties of sauerkraut.

Two crocks of veggies are fermenting on my table right now.

A batch we made together another time.

A batch we made together another time.

The purslane was a little “gone by,” but we are salvaging it as chicken feed.

And in both cases, we had a great time together, reconnecting.

It made me think of something I just read in an e-newsletter from an eco-village called Dancing Rabbit.

Relearning harmony with the earth at this time in existence is a great undertaking, in a world where bug spray, Big Macs, smartphones, and petroleum are readily available.

Young Thoughtful

It is a great undertaking, I agree. Everything in our culture pulls in the opposite direction. But friends can ease the way. They make swimming upstream companionable.

What about you? In what ways do your friends join you in living a bit more lightly on the planet?

Public Art Foundation Turns 1

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Guess who turned 1 last week? Foundation East, a grassroots organization born right here in my own neighborhood. These action-oriented folks bring “artists, funders, and dreamers” together to turn eastside Indianapolis neighborhoods (such as mine!) into public art havens.

My neighbor and friend, Rita Spalding, working on one of her signal boxes last fall. Photo by Charmaine Edwards.

My neighbor and friend, Rita Spalding, working on one of her signal boxes last fall. Photo by Charmaine Edwards.

I first blogged about their work last winter in Public Art Unites the Community. Since then more traffic signal boxes have turned into canvases—not just in Irvington but in other parts of town as well. And Foundation East won a “Best of Indy” award for best public art for the Irvington project.

Oil painter Rita Spalding, one of the signal box artists, taught a painting class at Friday night’s birthday celebration.

Oil painters-in-the-making

Oil painters-in-the-making

What a kick to see people so absorbed in their creativity. Not a mobile device in sight (except for the occasional smartphone photo). We need more evenings like this.

Sunflower under the brush

Sunflower under the brush

Rita recently started another still life. She’s painting a signal box located on a busy intersection. Someone suggested she apply a painted wrap to the box instead, for safety’s sake. Though many neighbors have expressed concern about the cars and buses whizzing by, she remains committed to painting the box itself.

That’s because she wants passersby to see an artist at work in the public sphere. In her own words:

“My fondest hope: that rubbing up against original art in one’s daily commute and/or walks will awaken a curiosity about the arts… that it might lead to a trip to the IMA (Indianapolis Museum of Art); that it might cause one to slow down in front of a gallery window; that it might encourage one to dig out those paints in the garage and try something expressive and/or creative… A gentle nudge in the form of original public art might create some lovely ripples in a vast variety of lives…”

Here’s Rita (what a gem!) schooling Friday evening’s youngest participant in painting a peach.

Rita with Nathan, budding painter.

Rita with Nathan, a budding painter.

Another artist friend, Laura Hildreth, will be painting a signal box in homage to Irvington’s history. She’s the perfect person for the job, with family ties to this area going back generations.

Laura with a representation of her design for the signal box at the corner of Washington and Ritter.

Laura with a representation of her design for the signal box at the corner of Washington and Ritter, showing the original buildings along that stretch.

And just to show that we are not alone in this effort to beautify the commons, here’s a photo I snapped in Victoria, B.C. earlier this summer. This particular utility box pays tribute to the “slender woollyhead,” a plant native to Vancouver Island.

On the back was printed information about the plant.

On the back was printed information about the plant.

Watch for an upcoming guest post by Foundation East’s co-founder, Vishant Shah, about the next generation in public art projects.

A Rural Rebirth, One Ag Business at a Time

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Earlier this summer I visited Becca Selkirk at her Wayne County, IN farm, Unique 2 Eat, where she raises quail, chickens, and rabbits. She sells the eggs from her quail and chickens, along with rabbit meat. And she has two goats just for fun.

I was researching a story for Farm Indiana, having met her through Carthage Mill. (You might remember founder Anna Welch’s powerful guest post, “The Face of Resilience,” from a few months back.)

The mill is a sustainable agriculture business incubator, and its existence allowed Becca to expand into animal feed.

Becca Selkirk with a handful of her locally grown and milled feed.

Becca Selkirk with a handful of her locally grown and milled feed.

Using all organic and local ingredients, such as Fields of Agape‘s black bean halves and flax seeds, she’s developed a high-quality chicken feed. At 19 percent protein, her layer feed out-competes the industry standard. It’s all ground right onsite.

She markets her products at the mill and through Hoosier Harvest Market, the online marketplace that delivers small farmers’ and producers’ wares to several drop points.

I interviewed one Carthage resident who made the switch for his chickens and was thrilled with the result. “The quality of it’s great,” Devon Hamilton told me. “And my birds look healthier.” He says the price point is only slightly higher than what he was buying. And it’s worth it to him to know the ingredients were locally and sustainably raised.

Next on Becca's list is a formula for quail feed.

Next on Becca’s list is a formula for quail feed.

Plus, he wants to support the new venture. “I was there one day when Becca was mixing (the feed),” he says, “and she was working very hard. It’s very labor-intensive.” He feels that Becca has priced her feed appropriately, given everything that goes into it.

Becca is also one of the principals of local fertilizer maker Sterling Formulations, another company leasing space at Carthage Mill. And I just found out that she’s been able to expand into another new line. She’s cooking up ready-to-eat soups and developing a gluten-free pizza crust for “take-and-bake.”

She’s only been able to do this because of Carthage Mill: It has a commercial kitchen that’s certified for use in organic food production.

This is rural revitalization, one small ag business at a time.

Check out the full Farm Indiana story on Unique 2 Eat Farm. (Warning: adorable fuzzy animal photos involved—Josh Marshall‘s photography is terrific as always.) For more on Carthage Mill, see “Cooperative Offers Rural Rebirth,” my Acres USA story.

 

Now We’re Cooking…with Sunshine

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We offered our solar cooking workshop last weekend to an enthusiastic “crowd” of 17. That’s the biggest group a Pogue’s Run Grocer class has ever attracted, so we were pleased.

Judy demonstrating how to make a lid for a box cooker.

Judy demonstrating how to make a lid for a box cooker.

Judy has developed a wooden model, but we’re still working out the kinks. So we focused the class on “the old workhorse,” our tried-and-true cardboard box cooker. We wanted to show that you can start cooking with sunshine using only cheap (or free!) materials.

Judy adapted the design out of our solar cookery bible, Cooking with Sunshine. And you can find DIY instructions online as well.

All it needs now is an arm to prop the reflector--and you can make this out of a wire hanger.

All it needs now is an arm to prop the reflector. You can make this out of a wire hanger.

One of the attendees, a firefighter, plans to make the box cooker at the firehouse. He has a big vegetable garden, and he brought us all kinds of herbs and veggies in thanks for the teaching. He was eager to try using up garden produce in all-day stews and soups.

And we discovered after the class was done that another of the attendees has already been experimenting with solar cooking quite a bit. He sent me this inspiring video, proving me wrong when I said, “No, you can’t solar cook in the winter, because the sun’s too low.” Check it out!

The company behind this innovative design is called Solar Clutch. Its mission is promoting solar cooking in high risk areas of the world. I hadn’t heard of Solar Clutch, but I’m proud to find my home state of Indiana producing such a company.

Perhaps solar cooking season doesn’t have to end on Sept. 15 after all!

Lighting a Candle

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So much sadness, trauma, pain, anger, fear is showing up in the personal news of my friends and in the wider news of recent weeks. But  here is a prayer for all of us, a message from an intuitive who grew up in war-torn Lebanon:

“I am lighting a candle in my heart for everyone… everyone… everyone. My heart is ablaze. My tears of joy, tears of sadness, tears of humility, and tears of hope bring this burn to a sizzle…only to find out that these candles are magical…they never go out.

By Luca Casartelli (Own work) via Wikimedia Commons

By Luca Casartelli (Own work) via Wikimedia Commons

Remember those special birthday cake candles that could not be stopped? The ones you blow out and they light up again? Ah, I am relieved that the light of my heart is infinite and eternal… has no borders… and ripples, boundless.

Now that love is set to permanent, I can really do my magic.”

—Iva of Sophia Speaks

How I Spent my Summer Vacation

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After traveling for nearly a month, this homebody is glad to be back to my little haven of domesticity. This time I visited Washington State with a side trip to British Columbia.

If you follow the blog, you know a little bit about my adventures, but here are some more highlights.

In Bellingham I learned about Sustainable Connections’ Think Local First campaign. This ingenious program rewards local businesses for earth-friendly business practices by raising their profile in the community.

We decided to experience this local biz thing for ourselves.

Checking out goat cheese options (that's our old friend Laurie in the foreground.)

Checking out goat cheese options at the Bellingham Farmers Market (that’s our old friend Laurie in the foreground.)

Craft beer, ice cream made from local berries, a killer bookstore, and a festive Saturday farmers market showed us a bit of the region’s specialties.

Biggest raspberry evah

Biggest raspberry evah

From Bellingham we ventured north to Denman Island in British Columbia for the Mudgirls workshop.

My new friend Millie, tamping slip straw at the Mudgirls workshop.

My new friend Millie, tamping slip straw at the Mudgirls workshop.

Then it was back to the U.S. for a two-week writing residency at Hypatia-in-the-Woods in Shelton, WA. This experience was a bit different from previous residencies which I shared with other artist types: I was the sole resident of a lovely cottage nested deep in the cedar forest.

The labyrinth on the grounds, a magical place

The labyrinth on the grounds, a magical place to commune with deer, birds, trees, and insects

The solitude gave me lots of focused time to write. I also learned how much I value having someone within hollering distance, as I had a few challenging moments in the intense isolation. I was thankful for the board, who kindly made sure I had some conviviality to balance out the quiet.

Other people's dogs, such as the director's Sheltie, Ceela, helped me deal with the lonesomeness of not having my dog with me.

Other people’s dogs, such as the director’s Sheltie, Ceela, helped me deal with the lonesomeness of not having my dog with me.

A high point: connecting with Olympia Mycelial Network, a group I’ve admired from afar. I helped them with an installation of bioluminescent mushroom mycelium, which was a thrill.

We gathered by the cob oven on the Commons at Fertile Ground. After a quick tutorial, we created a path from wood chips inoculated with panellis (bitter oyster) mycelium. The hope is that this path will glow in the dark as the mycelium gets established.

Peter McCoy, who blogged here about starting the Radical Mycology project, walked us newbies through the process for growing mycelium.

Peter showing me grain spawn and mycelium sugar that he propagated at home. Now I want to try it!

Peter showing me grain spawn and mycelium sugar that he propagated at home. Now I want to try it!

After that inspiring evening, I had to visit Olympia Food Coop, where the group earlier helped install mycelium that consumes petrochemicals.

I feel so lucky to have had the chance to learn from such innovative people and projects. I’m glad to be back to my laundry-hanging, solar-cooking, dog-walking routine though. I have several fun writing assignments coming up that I’ll tell you about later.

Note: Speaking of solar cooking: We’re offering a workshop this Sunday from 2-3pm at Pogue’s Run Grocer on that very topic. RSVP here if you can make it!

A Little Help from the Fungus Kingdom

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Yesterday I went on a quest for the fabled fungus that’s been mopping up petrochemicals from a food co-op’s parking lot. Olympia Food Co-op‘s eastside store was the place. I timed my visit just right, happening upon a crew of landscapers working the butterfly and bird garden.

The grounds of this food co-op include a sweet garden meant to attract pollinators.

Outside the food co-op is a sweet garden meant to attract pollinators (and people).

Sarika, the co-op’s landscape coordinator, jumped at the chance to tell me about the project. The mycoremediation began five years ago in partnership with Olympia Mycelial Network. Oyster mushrooms are able to digest petrochemicals into harmless compounds. So the drainage ditch of the parking lot contains several burlap bags full of oyster mushroom mycelium.

Bags filled with oyster mushroom mycelium.

Bags filled with oyster mushroom mycelium.

The idea is to filter the oil before it hits the drain down by the sidewalk.

Ever wonder where the runoff disappears to when it enters a drain like this?

Ever wonder where the runoff disappears to when it enters a drain like this?

I also met Brittany and Jordan, two young Louisiana-born “WWOOFers” volunteering with Sarika. They are traveling around the country with another friend, exploring farming innovations and learning how they can be of use to our beautiful planet. (Check out their adventures at Traveling Tripod.)

Jordan, Sarika, and Brittany

Jordan, Sarika, and Brittany

Brittany waxed eloquent about the role of mushrooms—this critical work is all about ensuring “clean water for everyone.”

Signage showing the overview of the mycoremediation

Signage showing an overview of the fungi’s work

Having been in the Pacific Northwest for almost a month, I’m beginning to grasp the extreme sensitivity of Puget Sound. This project represents just one small but significant effort to right the wrongs of our polluting ways.

Hood Canal, a basin of Puget Sound, as seen from Potlatch Beach on a moody day.

Hood Canal, a basin of Puget Sound, as seen from Potlatch Beach on a moody day.

The possibilities are staggering. Peter McCoy, who last year contributed a guest post about radical mycology, first told me about this project over a year ago. Finally seeing those humble mushroom bags doing their work brought tears to my eyes.

Sarika is looking into funding to pursue farther-reaching remediation. And the Radical Mycology Collective, of which Olympia Mycelial Network is a part, is launching its fall tour today. I can’t wait till the big Radical Mycology Convergence, taking place in Orangeville, IL this October!

Good to Grow

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Guest post by Luke Taylor, who started a business called Good to Grow with his wife, Emily

Luke and Emily Taylor

Luke and Emily Taylor

Based out of Irvington, on the east side of Indianapolis, Good to Grow aims to harness the power of community to revolutionize the way we interact with overlooked natural resources.

What does it look like to “harness the power of community?” And what are these overlooked natural resources?

The power of community is a shared vision, and many hands. Our vision is one that makes it easy for neighbors to make choices that not only benefit their community, but also themselves. Choices like saving their food waste to create compost—and collecting rainwater to reduce water bills and strain on municipal utilities.

Good to Grow's custom-built water barrel towers enable urban gardeners to save large amounts of rainwater.

Good to Grow’s custom-built water barrel towers enable urban gardeners to save large amounts of rainwater.

Some might call this “being green,” or recycling. I am happy thinking of it as purely selfish.

If you have altruistic notions of saving the world one recycled cardboard box at a time, great! Continue seeking out ways to heal your part of the world through changes large and small. Your community needs more people like you.

Many in your community, however, need a layup. (Editor’s note: a layup, for the basketball-uninitiated, is the easiest of shots, more difficult to miss than make.) These folks will only choose to recycle if they are standing next to a bin or a forest ranger is looking in their direction.

Or if they receive something free as a reward. In short, they need incentive.

Developing an incentive framework to support behavior change is our goal at Irvington’s Good to Grow.

A bucket ready to receive a neighbor's vegetable scraps.

A bucket ready to receive a neighbor’s vegetable scraps.

One such framework is Irvington’s composting program. Already being championed by 16 households, this initiative’s ultimate goal is to collect compostable food waste and distribute finished compost (a valuable organic fertilizer) at the very same time. The idea is to connect beneficial behavior as seamlessly as possible with valuable incentive and convenience.

It is my hope that this idea encourages communities to create incentive frameworks of their own!

Luke Taylor moved to Irvington, Indianapolis with his wife Emily in early 2013. They chose this neighborhood mostly because of its strong sense of community. The Taylors wanted to be a part of it, and to encourage its growth. With Good to Grow as the vessel for delivery, they have a vision for Irvington that will amplify and enrich our local resources, bringing together an already blossoming Indianapolis community. One day, they dream to be able to enrich other Indianapolis communities in the same way by sharing the Good to Grow framework.

Building with the Mudgirls

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I spent part of last week at a workshop offered by the Mudgirls, a natural building collective in British Columbia.

The Mudgirls strive to live lightly on the earth while sharing skills among themselves and the wider community. And when it comes to resilience, building shelter from earthen materials is about as serious as you can get. This is a group that embodies the reimagined world, and a powerful DIWO (do-it-with-others) spirit.

The Mudgirls do their work in child- and mother-friendly style.

The Mudgirls do their work in child- and mother-friendly style.

Collective member Rose hosted our workshop on cooperatively owned land on Denman Island. We camped in the forest by night and bartered our labor for instruction by day. About 15 others took part, bringing enthusiasm and good humor to the work.

Some of our group making cob, a mix of clay, sand, straw, and water.

Some of our group making cob, a mix of clay, sand, straw, and water.

Rose is converting an existing structure on the land into a home for herself and her family. Using temporary plywood forms, we packed the walls with insulating material called slip straw. We made this insulation from straw and a clay-and-water slurry.

Making "slip straw" to insulate the walls. (Spot the pasty writer?)

Making “slip straw” to insulate the walls. (Spot the pasty writer?)

In a few weeks the walls will be dry enough to plaster.

house

House with slip straw insulation in the walls. The plywood is temporary, just to create a form to pack the slip straw in.

A hand-laid stone foundation forms the base for a cob-walled addition. (The team that worked on setting the stone found it a lesson in patience.)

Wall taking shape on top of the stone foundation

Wall taking shape on top of the stone foundation

We all helped mix the cob, which is a blend of clay, sand, and water, with a sprinkling of straw. While clay has compressive strength, it lacks tensile strength–the role of the straw. We learned that the straw has a similar job as rebar in concrete, adding internal structure to the dense material.

Mixing a batch of cob.

Mixing a batch of cob.

Building the wall was perhaps the most exciting task.

Building the wall

Building the wall

Some people made it look easy. But I’m still not sure the section I worked on could be called plumb!

Room addition taking form, with window.

Room addition taking form, with window.

I asked Molly, one of the Mudgirls who helped with instruction, how the Mudgirls mission fits into the broader picture of ecological and societal upheaval. Beyond  her passion for natural building, she told me, what excites her is the community that’s being nurtured.

Molly mixing clay slip with a giant eggbeater-type tool.

Molly mixing clay slip with a giant eggbeater-type tool.

The women of the collective have known each other for years and have a solid commitment to each other. They make decisions by consensus, taking the time to talk things out (though in recent years the talks are shorter as the big issues have been resolved). Members all know that they have each others’ best interest at heart, and each agrees to take responsibility for her own needs and desires.

Molly said that people who come to workshops often reconnect at later events, forming lasting friendships. So community extends beyond the core collective. She sees participants as pollinators, taking our inspiration beyond the islands of British Columbia.

Example of a finished cob house (actually this one's a hybrid).

Example of a finished cob exterior.

For me the experience was all about the freedom to try something new. I had to grant myself compassion for the learning curve, and work on forgiving my body its frailties. The Mudgirls’ supportive environment made that possible.

And it was thrilling to help build an actual home. These hands that spend so much time on a keyboard are part of Rose’s homestead now.