Awareness

We were walking through the woods a couple weeks ago, my younger daughter and I, on the way to school and we smelled them.

"That smell," I said, tickling memory slightly. And we both looked up, with an instinct only a year old for us now, at the towering tulip poplar trees, and sure enough, they were blooming.

We had only discovered them this time last year after I read Richard Louv's excellent and illuminating book, Last Child in the Woods, about the disconnnect today's children have with nature and the cognitive, behavioral and other effects this has on their lives and the world at large. That's about when we started walking through the woods each morning, and when we first discovered these beautiful flowers falling from the tallest hardwood tree in the shady stand of pines and vines that make up the sweet little cut-through through which we pass.

And sure enough, now, the floor of the forest is littered with these flowers, usually two or three of them on a small piece of branch, like a still-life just waiting to be photographed.

I was curious how things were going with Richard Louv since writing that book. I knew that The National Wildlife Federation was encouraging something called a Green Hour, I had seen pushes for "less screen time, more green time" and, of course, I was now intrigued (okay, on my usual path to obsession) by the concept of Earth Skills (also called Primitive Living Skills, apparently).

Turns out that the revised edition of Last Child in the Woods was just released this month. This edition includes a "Field Guide" with 100 practical actions we can take; 35 discussion points for book groups, classrooms, and communities; new and updated research from the U.S. and abroad; and a progress report on the movement.

Richard also directed me to the Children & Nature Network (which he chairs), where there is tons of great info and many links. I was particularly excited to find out that April is Children and Nature Awareness Month, and that I could squeak in with this post on the last day of the month.

Awareness. A primitive living skills expert named Tom Elpel says that awareness is the single most important survival skill. He writes:

It doesn't matter if you are in an emergency survival situation, out for a weekend camping trip, or even in your own home. You might be running a business, tackling a social or environmental problem, or simply investing money in the stock market. In any situation, the most important skills is always awareness or consciousness about the potential opportunities and threats around you. Awareness not only alerts you to what is around you, but also brings you inward so that deep learning and understanding can take place on a physical, mental and emotional level.

Richard Louv talks about how when kids are involved in nature, they develop a 360-degree awareness, as opposed to much less than that if they are involved predominantly in screen-based indoor pursuits. He also suggests that instead of telling our children to "Be careful!" we would do our children a benefit to instead encourage them to "Be aware!" It puts them in an active and powerful position rather than a reactive, fearful one.

And so, as we rode bikes yesterday morning (we switch it up with walking in the woods), my younger daughter instinctively stopped her bike and let me go ahead when she heard the slight sound at first of the large, rambling, unleashed, unlocked dog who often bounds down a particular driveway at us. She wasn't scared. She was aware, and she took that simple action to enable me to block the dog's momentum and keep it from knocking her over.

She was aware of the cracks on the sidewalk, and the corner where cars usually speed, and the need to slow down at one particular spot because there are usually garbage cans in our path, and the way that she has to hold her bike differently once we get on the wood chip path at school.

She likes to take the lead now, something I was at first reluctant to let her do because of all these variables (don't even get me going on how so few cars stop at the crosswalk that we go a half mile out of our way to cross at).

She turned to me one day, however, and said, "Mom, I know every inch of our journey to school. I can do it."

And when I watch her now, from the bike behind her, I know she knows not just every inch of the road but every inch of the air and sky that surrounds her as well.

"You Take What the Trail Has to Offer"

Six years ago right now he would have been gone, two months already into his 5-month walk from Georgia to Maine, more than 2,000 miles on the ridge of the Appalachian Mountains. Only about 30% of hikers who attempt to walk the entire Appalachian Trail (the longest footpath in the United States and a designated National Scenic Trail) actually succeed each year, with many of those who don't make it stopping during the first 75 miles, still in the state of Georgia, not far from the trail's start at Springer Mountain near Amicalola Falls.

He carried a 40-pound backpack, camped in a tiny tent, ate freeze-dried food that his wife mailed to him "General Delivery" at various post offices just off the trail along the way, which he cooked on a miniscule fire in a stove no bigger than a box of cigarettes.

He is my next-door neighbor, and until last week, I hadn't really heard his story. I had asked about it, of course, but really not that much. Not enough. I've never seen the pictures, or sat and talked at length with him about it.

Yet I was planning our final Open Garden for the season, since the heat in my yard has already made it unbearable to be out there in the garden for long at the time of the day that we've been gathering with friends and neighbors to put children's hands in the dirt and teach them how to plant potatoes, and identify chickweed, and appreciate the tangy sharpness of French sorrel.

And I got to thinking, "Earth Skills," those basic skills we as humans need to survive in the wild and the world. There's been a marked drop-off in earth skills in today's generation of children, since many of their parents are either not passing down these skills or never learned them themselves. As a society, we have gotten used to segmented labor, or the need to hire a specialist for the kinds of things that everyone used to know. How to change a flat tire or cook or do simple repairs.

So I asked my neighbor, Alan, if he would do a "Survival Skills on the Appalachian Trail" demonstration for the final Open Garden, and he did. The crowd of us gathered on my front lawn this time as Alan and his wife, Fran (who had served as the critical at-home support person and had flown in to join him on various legs of the trip) showed the tent, explained how to purify water, talked about trail safety and even cooked freeze-dried lasagna right there on my lawn and offered it to everyone to sample. The kids tried on the pack and played in the tent and listened spellbound as Alan waxed poetic about how it feels to be out there alone, the wind washing over your tent like waves, the sound of nocturnal animals alive and vibrant in the night, the camaraderie of those you meet on the journey, the peace, the beauty, the joy.

Alan intended to hike 17 miles a day. He prepared spreadsheets that outlined his trip and had it all worked out--until he got there, and learned that it just doesn't work that way. That steep inclines, one after another after another, or 8 degree nights, or wet gear or overnight stays in a nearby trail town while waiting for Fran's next package of provisions throw the best laid plans askew. And so Alan looked at us and said the simple words that embody the biggest lesson he learned:

You take what the trail has to offer.

Whether it's murky water. Or rainy nights in lean-tos shoulder-shoulder with 30 other very smelly hikers and mice that run over you at night. Or a black bear mama protecting her cubs or copperhead snakes or Lyme-Disease-carrying ticks. Eventually you get there, if you are one of the perseverant and perhaps lucky, through 14 states, to Mount Katahdin 281 miles into Maine.

And so as one little girl insightfully asked Alan, "You probably pass lots of creeks and rivers while hiking. Isn't that water dirty? What do you drink?" I thought of how much that question is reflective of the times in which these children live, that unfortunately it is not natural for them to imagine a place where water is pure and clean, not even up there, in the middle of the forest, in the middle of nowhere. And it occurred to me how important it is for these children to learn Earth Skills, to know that a simple, hand-held water purifier can make any water potable.

Earth Skills. Growing your own food. Making fire. Cooking. Living lightly on the land, independently. And knowing when to share skills and resources (as I'm now thinking of doing with more talented folks as part of a developing concept for Open Garden). And when to actually knock on your neighbor's door and say, "I know it's been 6 years since you came home with that full white beard. But I have some questions for you. And I'd like to learn."

"You Are Never Given a Dream Without Also Being Given the Ability to Make It Come True"

So we've been taking my mom to Harry's Farmers Market every couple weeks. Harry's is owned by Whole Foods and is a huge, wonderful, wide-aisled, abundant, less slick (and a little bit less expensive) version of its parent. As for my younger daughter, it's simply the place "with all the samples" and she proceeds to find and taste them all. She also tends to talk my mother into buying a couple things that weren't on her list, which somehow then make it into my bag when it's time to go home. Pomegranate yogurt goji berries? Arden's Garden Cha Cha Cherry juice? Yep. Those ended up in my home yesterday somehow.

Anyway, so I left them scooting around on the motorized wheelchair (Mom is doing great, by the way, since her accident back in February) and headed off in search of my own particular brand of investigative journalism. And there, outside in the garden center, I saw it. Finally! Farmer D's freestanding biodynamic compost display, made of reclaimed wood to resemble a barn or shed and truly evoke the "farm feel."

I actually teared up a bit, to see Farmer D's dream finally realized. He had been talking to me about this idea for so long, and there it was. I have another friend whose book just got published (and which I'll write about soon) and I feel the same way about him, that by witnessing the actualization of others' dreams, I am reminded to keep my own dreams alive as well. I love that saying, "You are never given a dream without also being given the ability to make it come true."

As for yesterday, my only dream was a beautiful garden, and after hours of glorious, much-needed rain and this trip to my mom's and Harry's, I came home with my Farmer D compost and some new tomato, pepper and basil transplants and head on out there. I had to choose carefully who would get the compost because I didn't have enough for all my plants (it's expensive--worth every penny, but expensive). So I walked around, looking each plant in the eye (if you can do such a thing) and doling out the black gold judiciously.

Some native grasses are growing in patches where they didn't grow before. Rye and hairy vetch and clover all undulated in the gentle breezes, and I felt a little bit more wildness working its way into my garden design, and it looked so gorgeous to me, my vision for the space changing. The tomatoes and peppers and basil are almost secondary to what's going on out there.

What's more, my friend Judy brought me a book titled Weed 'Em and Reap about edible weeds, which I'm about halfway through already (it's a real pot boiler!) so I'm hesitant to pull up anything until I determine whether or not it would make a nice featured item in my salad or on my dinner plate.

And so, between Harry's and the spring and summer crops and the weeds and Farmer D's biodynamic compost, it was only natural to choose number 5, Eat Healthy, for today's Every Monday Matters, even though it's obvious for us kitchen gardeners. On a day like yesterday, when beauty and bounty surrounded me, it seemed like I was seeing the garden, once more, for the very first time. And yes, I fell in love with it all over again.

Long Past the Final Forkful

It's that time of year now here in Atlanta when every evening finds us eating outside and lingering long past the final forkful, my younger daughter gathering ladybugs, my older one (a child who received Thoreau's Civil Disobedience as a birthday gift recently from one of her best friends) debating China's one-child policy or Mendel's principles of classical genetics and the ethical quandaries that arise with modern evolutionary thought, and my husband, an "inside guy," claiming it's too buggy after trying to last just a little longer.

Our simple dinner consisted of homemade pizza with sweet potatoes saved from fall, a caramelized onion from right there, you see that spot in the middle bed in the back? That's where it was just moments ago. And snips from the rosemary bush, the one by the clubhouse, not the one with the little blue flowers. Oh, and a salad of sweet baby lettuces from Melissa of Blossom Hill Farm. Remember how they grew on a little hillside next to one of her fields, I ask my younger daughter, the one who wore that wide-brimmed hat and rode with Melissa on her tractor last June when we visited the farm.

My daughter isn't really listening to me, however.

"This one likes me, Mom," she exclaims as a ladybug walks up her arm. This is the same daughter who told me she was going to vacuum the house the other day and when I expressed surprise, she stated, matter-of-factly, "I mean, c'mon, I mow the lawn for goodness sake. I can certainly vacuum the house!"

And yes, she and my older daughter do mow the lawn, now that I have the manual mower. Joggers do a double-take when they see them out there, children mowing the lawn. That is not something you see around here.

Speaking of lawns, did you hear that Canada's two largest provinces, Ontario and Quebec, have formerly banned the so-called "cosmetic" use of pesticides and herbicides on residential lawns, gardens and parks? Home Depot in Canada will voluntarily stop selling these items in Canada by the end of the year. My next call? Back to Ron Jarvis, head of sustainability for Home Depot.

And more talk of lawns, I know of numerous other folks who are considering buying push reel mowers. In fact, I sort of feel a "club" coming on. Anyone interested? We could have cute t-shirts that say something like "Pushing on for the Planet" or "Pushing for Positive Change"?

And speaking of positive change, David (from my Companion Planter team, and the friend of mine who gave me the I've Got Worms t-shirt at Open Garden's Grand Celebration of the Arrival of the Worms) sent me a photo of his very first clothesline (thanks for leaving the underwear inside, David!)

And Judy! Where to start with Judy? Judy has arranged a completely new CSA drop from Charlotte's farm, involving something like 50 families who live near her. And Judy has never even been in a CSA before!

And guess where I was yesterday morning? At Tracey's house--Tracey, a woman I met because Richard introduced me to her a little while back because Tracey just recently got chickens! And so I finally saw her coop yesterday, right there at the top of her driveway, in clear view for all the world to see. Less than a mile from my house, even closer than Richard's house. Chickens.

And so I picked mint and lemon balm and cilantro from my outstretched hand at the dinner table last night, like from a condiment bar at a fast-food restaurant, and sprinkled them onto my salad. And for just a moment, as a rabbit nibbled on the sweet, soft clover in my lawn, all was well in the world.

"The Magic Day"

And so, here goes, 35 dollar worth of food, all from farmers I saw in person yesterday.

Corinna just sold 50 dozen duck eggs to a new restaurateur who is trying to buy mostly local (more on that once I get a chance to talk with him).

Chad's cows are grazing on knee-high grass and their milk is the sweetest of the year right now.

Melissa, oh dear Melissa. She's busy nursing plants and people and possibilities. I told her that when the tomato plants I bought from her two weeks ago got "hurt" in a couple frosty nights, I thought of her and how she would have swaddled them in blankets and said, "My poor babies! I'll take care of you!" And I felt more tender toward them and less mad at myself from jumping the weather gun and planting them too early.

With a mix of whole grains (quinoa, amaranth, buckwheat and oat groats, brown rice, farro, and so on, most for about a buck or two a pound) and some beans, tofu (another two bucks each), nuts and seeds, and sprinkled with herbs or topped by fruit, these simple ingredients will become wraps and stir-fries and soups and omelets and puddings and breads and salads and more.

I came home yesterday to no less than three articles about the soaring food prices around the world, the riots that are happening as a result, and the harrowing forecast for mass starvation. And I just want to say to those who are trying to keep their family fed while facing rising food costs, as well as those who are trying to make a difference in the world's food supply by reducing petroleum use, eating local and eating lower on the food chain, that your efforts count.

The biggest obstacle I hear from moms about eating simply? "My picky child won't eat that stuff." Well, I have some exciting news to report. My younger daughter, although probably much less finicky than many kids, had a list of things she wouldn't touch, or had rules attached to them (no kale except in muffins and then only if there are also chocolate chips in them, for instance). I encourage her to try everything, even things she has said she doesn't like, because I told her that, suddenly one day, like magic, she will like something that she previously didn't.

"What if today is the Magic Day and you will never know it because you didn't try?" I ask, and her eyes get sort of wide yet suspicious at the same time. Yet she relucantly moves her fork toward the questionable item.

And chances are, when the Magic Day comes, she will love the food item, I tell her. It has happened to me with cilantro and arugula, so I'm not making this up.

Recently, she has scratched the following items off her "I don't eat" list: okra, onions, tofu and bananas (what she had against them, I don't really know!) Two weeks ago was the onions. Two nights ago was the tofu. Last night, she even ate something that Corinna called the nebulous "braising mix," which included bolted napa, two types of kale, Swiss chard and mustard greens. My older daughter and I almost fell off our chairs.

So, hang in there. Keep trying. Keep serving things. Keep encouraging kids to try and try again.

And if you have been considering this, now is a perfect time to plant a garden. And when you get to harvesting, remember your local food bank. Many gardeners participate in Plant a Row for the Hungry. The food banks are low, low, low on food and if you have abundance, it's a great way to share.

A Tale of Two Worm Bins

It was the best of worms. It was the worst of worms . . .

I raked the castings and shredded newspaper to one side of the completely inconspicuous worm bin that has been on the edge of my living room since that snowy night in January when the worms arrived. I added apple cores and banana peels as the sweet, nice worms lounged about nonchalantly in their homemade "worm condo," taking turns with the TV remote, sharing sections of the Sunday newspaper, chatting with their friends on the phone. I think only about twelve of my worms survived that freezing mail-order trip to my home and are the most pampered worms you'd ever want to see. My bin has been odor-and-fruit-fly free, and extremely low maintenance. I swear I think the little guys wave to me when I open the lid.

Cut to a mile away, to Richard of the Worms. He had taken half the worms that arrived that cold night, and his enthusiasm for vermicomposting led him to get two more batches of worms, another bin like the ones we had made together, and one of those fancy three-level worm factory thingamajigs. He has thousands of the red wrigglers now.

It has been hell over there. The worms have been trying to escape continuously, carrying protest banners and shouting obscenities. Richard has been out of his mind trying to figure out what they want. Air? Moisture? Food? He has been at their service day in, day out, for months now. Whereas I feed mine maybe once or twice a week, Richard's kitchen scrap needs are so extreme he has been collecting garbage from friends and family members, food-processing it and freezing it so that he has a continuous supply. He says he hears a constant rustling in the bins as the worms eat.

Richard has been leaving the cover off two of the bins and shining a light into them in order to keep the worms down. Once he moved the worm bins out to his garage from his basement, the fruit flies appeared. Now that the weather has warmed up and the bins are under an eave in the back yard, the worms have calmed down a bit, but I gotta' tell you, it doesn't look like fun over there.

When we started this experiment, Richard had intentions of starting a real worm farm, a business perhaps. I had been anxious to create a logo, a name, some marketing materials for him. I asked him about that now, and he said:

"I don't think so. You can read all you want and do all the research, but until you can figure out what they want, it's a real challenge."

Until you can figure out what they want.

Now, that's the bottom-line truth. These worms are a daily reminder that nature cannot be beaten into submission, that we are not the rulers of the world, and that sometimes we simply must admit that we don't have all the answers in order to live in unity on this earth.

Yet Richard keeps trying. We walked around his front and back yard and in the last six months alone, Richard has added six fig trees, three rasberry bushes, two raised beds for vegetables, a front-yard herb garden, a rainbarrel and of course, his push reel lawn mower.

Later in the day, I got a call from Richard. He was on his cell phone, and even thought the call kept breaking up a little, the excitement in his voice was palpable.

"I made a decision," he said.

Oh no, I thought. He was going to give up on the worms.

"What is it?" I asked, sitting down, wondering if I should encourage him to keep going, that things had gotten better outside with the bins, that he almost had them figured out.

He lowered his voice a bit, as if someone on the highway might overhear him and think him crazy, and he told me words that almost made me cry with joy.

"I'm getting chickens."

Cheers! Here's to Earth Day!

So, today is Earth Day. No big fanfare over here. No big parade or celebration. Just a simple gesture, yet another, in a long series of them that move me closer to sustainability. I bought a water filter, a 20-dollar item that enables me to filter my tap water and remove any remaining lead, copper, mercury, cadmium and benzene from my municipality-treated water.

I had been using 5-gallon water bottles and a water cooler, easily accessible in the kitchen. The water comes from the headwaters of our watershed, up in Blue Ridge, Georgia, in Rabun County. I read an article recently that said the wells of folks who live near there are going dry because the bottled water companies are removing so much water--which they can do, for free, by the way, up to a certain amount. Plus, the water comes on trucks--more energy. The bottles are recycled but it takes energy to clean and refill them. And it costs money, a steady drip of it each month. Just seems silly and wasteful now.

Got an email this morning from Leslie Hatfield, who is one of my favorite bloggers who wrote for Sustainable Table in New York City (which had that Eat Well Guided Tour of America last summer). She has moved to Baltimore (visions of Anna Paquin leading the geese through downtown Baltimore in Fly Away Home just sprung to my mind again!) yet is still involved with the Eat Well folks.

Turns out the team at Eat Well has just launched an official, free-standing Eat Well Guide blog called The Green Fork. According to Leslie:

The Eat Well Guide, which hosts thousands of listings of small-scale farms, restaurants, and other "green food outlets" throughout the US and Canada, has recently expanded to include produce farms, farmers markets and vegan restaurants, as well as "water-conscious ratings" that let consumers know which of their local restaurants have moved away from the ecologically unsound bottled water trend. The Eat Well team is currently at work on new features to make it easier than ever to eat greener, including an interactive mapping and travel feature due to hit the Web this summer.

So, if you are a reader in the U.S. or Canada, check it out at www.eatwellguide.org. Last time (over a year ago) when I searched this guide for farms, restaurants, stores and more that are doing great things for sustainability close to my home, I came up a bit dry. Today, I had 106 results within 20 miles, and I can check who is conserving water as well. Change is happening, my friends. Change is happening.

No matter where you are on our FoodShed Planet, I lift my glass of filtered tap water to you and say, "Cheers. Here's to Earth Day and the folks who are making a positive difference. One simple gesture at a time."

"Litte Eyes Are Watching" (Especially If They Are Teenagers)

I stood there at the kitchen sink, my hands in that sweet-smelling GreenWorks soapy water, scrubbing the heavy-duty plastic plates I had tossed into my bag the other day when packing for the party I just hosted.

I hadn't really intended to go so "eco" but when I went to put in plates, why not reusable? Then, napkins, why not cloth? Then a garbage bag, why not my blue recycling bag? My mom had already made a pile of beautiful scarves out of scrap fabrics as the party favors--and they had turned into the entertainment, with the teenagers twirling and tying them creatively into halter tops and sarongs and headbands.

When I pulled out the cloth napkins, the girls' eyes lit up. I hadn't considered the fact that every one of these girls had dined at my home throughout the years and they all had memories attached to these napkins. I simply hadn't considered that.

"I always take the one with the strawberries on it!" one girl exclaimed. I hadn't known that.

"I love the extra-thin ones," said another. The extra-thin, ones. The ones that are starting to show wear and tear. The ones with the most history.

"The yellow one, Mrs. Baker! The yellow one, please!" a third girl said, her arm outstretched.

We saved the tissue paper from the gifts and I told the girls that we would turn their gift paper into homemade paper with which we'd make thank-you notes, so that, technically, their gifts would come back, in this small way, to them.

"That is sooo cool!" one teenager said, her cell phone long abandoned, her iPod packed away.

And so, as I packed up the car with a bag of dirty plates to be washed, I wondered why I had complicated my life like that, having to wash those dishes on a day when I was already very tired.

Yet as I stood there washing, the sun streaming in the window, the light breeze blowing, those big yellow butterflies that have recently appeared in my garden flittering from crimson clover flower to hairy vetch and back again, I remembered their faces. Their comments. Their beauty in those scarves, and their complete acceptance of an earth-friendly approach as normal. And I felt the incredible joy that comes from slowing down, keeping things simple (even if they seem more complicated at first), and savoring the stops along the way on the journey. Even if they involve washing dishes.

And so, for Every Monday Matters today, I chose Number 12: Party with a Purpose. The book suggests throwing a party to raise money for charity. But with this party just complete, Earth Day this week, and our last Open Garden coming up fast, I think the Parties with a Purpose for me are times to make sure Planet Earth is an honored guest, and to remember that "little eyes are watching," even if they are teenagers. Perhaps especially if they are teenagers.

Keeping Up with the Greens

So I mentioned Xeriscaping to a neighbor the other day and was told about concern for "property values," especially if folks turn their front yards into desert-stricken pebble gardens. Considering that the City of Atlanta Department of Watershed Management is offering free Xeriscaping classes and that Lake Lanier, from where we get our water, is the lowest it has been since 1957 (when it was man-made), I found this comment surprising (will I ever cease to be surprised?!)

Property values. It all comes down to that, doesn't it? Well, guess what? Those who are making eco-improvements in their homes are most likely improving their property values. Soon, it's not going to be about keeping up with the Jones. It's going to be about keeping up with the Greens. And here's why. According to the National Society of Green Agents and Brokers, a home with eco-improvements can save money on energy and utility bills, is more comfortable with climate fluctuations, has better air quality and other health-enhancing benefits, and helps do its part to repair the world.

A recent study in Canada found that:

Green friendly home improvements will likely yield a solid return on investment come selling time as almost three quarters of Canadians (72%) say they will look for a green-improved property in their next home purchase, and 63 per cent will be willing to pay more for an environmentally friendly home, according to the Royal LePage Eco Home Survey released today.

The joint Royal LePage National Association of Green Agents and Brokers Eco Home Survey, which examines the attitudes and opinions of Canadians with respect to green living, found that Canadians are willing to pony up cash for greener home features. In fact, 62 per cent of respondents are willing to pay between $5,000 and $20,000, for green features, while eight per cent (8%) of respondents are willing to spend $20,000 or more on a home deemed green.

In the United States, a group called EcoBrokers offers brokers courses ranging from wind and solar energy to indoor air quality to rainwater retention systems in order to become certified as an EcoBroker (here's the blog of a certified EcoBroker in Atlanta). There are currently about 300 certified EcoBrokers nationwide and they are particularly alert to features other agents may overlook--reclaimed materials in renovations, native plantings, the value of a solar water heating system, the peace of mind a parent or pet owner can enjoy from a pesticide-free lawn.

With the current mortgage lending crisis and the downturn in home sales, many people are renovating instead of relocating. If you are replacing carpeting, painting or adding on to your house, why not at least consider more environmentally-friendly choices? Consumer interest in a healthy home environment is increasing exponentially, and you're bound to be asked about it if you sell in the future. What's more, if you are trying to sell right now or will be trying soon, it's a great way to differentiate your property from the glut of other homes for sale.

As for Xeriscaping, less lawn and more native plantings means reduced work, reduced water, and increased savings. And if it's done right, it should actually increase property values. What's not to love about that?

See you next week on FoodShed Planet for:

* Earth Day!

* A Tale of Two Worm Bins (and the exciting return of Richard of the Worms!)

* How to Party with the Planet in Mind

* and Food for Thought from My Suburban Kitchen Garden!

What Gets Measured Gets Done

Awhile back, I was at Target and saw a bunch of t-shirts in the Juniors section with environmental messages on them. Yet, when I looked at the tags, none of the t-shirts were made from organic cotton nor did the purchase of them benefit anything except Target's bottom line.

Well, I was back there last week and fell upon this t-shirt. Feeling myself getting a wee bit annoyed again (especially since I had written to Customer Service way back when about the other t-shirts and had never heard back), I checked the tag. Organic cotton! What's more, the tag, printed on recycled paper, says:

Going green and loving nature is a part of every day life, from camping under the stars to planting flowers in a window box. Your favorite clothing is now another way to care for and respect the earth. Grown and harvested to support and nourish the environment, organic cotton is a soft, comfortable and natural alternative. Go green and show your love of nature.

The t-shirt costs about 10 bucks, and this message gets in the hands of teenage girls. This is a good thing.

So I was intrigued, but trying to find the Chief of Sustainability at Target has so far eluded me. I did find its sustainability report, however. If you are interested in corporate triple-bottom-line responsibility (people, planet, profits), then you will love these sustainability reports. More and more companies are preparing them and posting them on their websites. They are good reading, usually punctuated by me proclaiming, "Wow!" about twenty times.

So the Target sustainability report talks about its efforts at water conservation, low impact development, waste reduction, recycling, carbon footprint reduction, and more. Things like reusing garment hangers and keeping 385 million hangers from landfills. Refurbishing 17,600 broken shopping carts. Recycling 1.4 million pounds of electronics. Using light-emitting diodes (LED) instead of neon for exterior signage. Harnessing solar energy. Restoring wetlands. Eliminating PVC in products for sale, and offering more earth-friendly products in every department. Switching from styrofoam to paper cups at its food service area, with 100% recycled-content coffee sleeves. Implementing sustainable design parameters for new stores. The list goes on and on.

And then, as coincidence would have it, Sprig.com featured a story this week about the launch of a line of affordable organic women's clothing as part of the GO International label at Target, designed by perennially-green CFDA-winning designer Rogan Gregory. Should be hitting stores near those of you in the United States May 18th.

There's a saying that what gets measured gets done. In this day and age, with the competitive marketplace the way it is, if a major corporation does not have a sustainability report on its website, I'm not interested in doing business with it. It's that simple.

Babe Magnet

The ladies are flockin', my friends. The ladybugs, that is. They are all over my tall, green, abundant hairy vetch! Long-time readers of FoodShed Planet may remember I was curious to try hairy vetch as a cover crop back in the fall. It is a legume (like crimson clover, which, by the way, the rabbits prefer hands-down to my lettuces), which adds nitrogen to the soil. I planted it in late fall, it sprouted and covered several beds in my garden with a lovely carpet of green all winter, and then it exploded into twirly, twisty tendrils that look like little fingertips reaching out and holding each other.

Now, I notice bright red little dots of ladybugs throughout the tall, overgrown patches. And the long-awaited hairy vetch flowers are starting to bloom, looking like dangling lavender caterpillars. I've pulled up batches of the vetch already and can report that it is easy to remove, its roots loosen the soil significantly, and it makes an abundant form of green manure for the compost pile. In short, hairy vetch rocks!

I would now like to officially nominate Hairy Vetch as a Garden Star for Spring '08. Hairy, please join your fellow winner, Chickweed, to receive your award.

All together now, applause.

Heirloom Tomato. Heirloom Habits. (Or How Much I Have to Learn)

Mr. Stripey, a beefsteak heirloom tomato plant, is right now waving at me in the garden bed outside my office window. I vow every year to only grow cherry and grape tomatoes because bigger ones are inevitably a disaster for me. Yet, each year I break down and plant a wide variety anyway. Because, I guess, I'm just a hopeless optimist. Or hopeful.

And so that brings me to what I'm finding has turned into a bit of an interesting journey, this constant back and forth with Kate in Australia about our odd way of living here in the United States (I've been posting comments on her blog as much as she has been posting on mine). She seems to be shocked at many of my posts--about the cuffs for coffee cups, about the lawncare habits of Americans, and now about what on earth I find so hard about trying to make eco-changes.

Here's what I find odd--a woman who has solar power and chops down her own wood. It's not odd in the fact that it's the right thing to do. It's odd, I realized yesterday, in that Kate says it like it's the most normal thing in the world. And perhaps it is, but here in the United States, I literally don't know one person personally (friend, relative, colleague, neighbor) who has solar anything (oh, maybe there's a solar light on the walkway up the driveway across the street).

And so I asked her how common solar power and wood-chopping is in Australia and she told me it was quite common. This got me curious about my options here in Atlanta, especially because, as coincidence would have it, I received a press release yesterday about Georgia Power's Green Energy now being Green e-Energy-certified, which apparently means it meets national as well as local environmental standards.

So I called Georgia Power and asked about its green energy option. Yes, it's more expensive (about 10% more, on average) but here's the kicker. Almost all the available green energy in the program is currently already allocated. So, technically, an Atlanta cosumer (me) cannot join the program, at least not until more green energy contracts are signed (and apparently very few Georgia consumers have solar power and even fewer generate enough power to sell some back). Turns out that the entire state of Georgia is supposedly not such a great state for solar. "Too many cloudy days," the nice lady told me. Here? In Atlanta? This surprises me. But she said that the southwest United States, which is desert, is the best place for solar generation, which probably explains yet another reason why California is ahead on this as well.

I also had a great conversation with the City of Atlanta's Director of Sustainability yesterday. Twenty eight years old. Grew up nearby. Led her middle school on a recycling effort. Saved loggerhead turtles at the coast. Friends ridiculed her for years. Is currently working on greening operations and policies in the city under the direction of Mayor Shirley Franklin, who is a well-known visionary who has taken nationwide leadership positions regarding climate issues and who is in the news almost daily about the sustainability efforts she is spearheading for Atlanta.

So I got to thinking. Adelaide, Australia is drought-ridden. As is Atlanta. Adelaide seems much more eco-conscious than Altanta. But we're trying. Wouldn't it be great if we could become eco-sister cities? Wouldn't it be something if we could build a bridge of knowledge across the world, and we could learn what works for Australia, and Australia could learn that this is new to us (however awful that sounds) and that we are trying, more and more of us each day? And that although tips like turn off the lights sound embarassingly simple, Americans still need to hear them in simple terms because we're still not doing it habitually. Because we still have a bit of a mindset like how reckless I am with basil in summer, like resources are plentiful and there's no need to worry about supply. Yet, of course, there is.

I don't know how to explain this, Kate. Perhaps historically. After World War II, in the 1950s, there was a period of incredible abundance here in the United States. The grandparents were always saving aluminum foil and not wasting bags, and somehow that was seen as something to reject, that it was a reminder of wartime. Clearly, what the grandparents were doing was right and we were foolish to not learn from them. But we're going back to those habits of our grandparents now. We're planting gardens. We're saving aluminum foil. And we're trying.

And so my heirloom tomato plant reminds me of the heirloom habits of my grandparents. And how much I have to learn.

Smart Nun--UPDATED

I wanted to do Number 13, Donate Books, in Every Monday Matters today and start with that Go Green, Live Rich book that tormented me last week with its stupid carbon calculator recommendation!

But, alas, this week is my younger daughter's turn to pick, and considering it is the first day back from Spring Break, she chose #50, Thank a Teacher. Her particular teacher is retiring in six weeks, after something like 42 years of teaching, so this is that teacher's very last time coming back to school from Spring Break.

I send in fistfuls of herbs each Friday to this teacher, although we haven't in awhile because the only herb that grows through the winter here is rosemary (and a sprig or two will last a few weeks), but now the lemon balm and oregano and lavender are stretching tall and proud again and can join the rosemary in a respectable little bouquet. And so out we'll go this morning, by the light of the moon and stars and pick the dewy stems, the oil of the rosemary lingering on our hands all morning.

Rosemary is an herb of remembrance and has been used traditionally at weddings and funerals (not to mention in making memorable meals--I particularly recall a meal I had at the Sonona Mission Inn & Spa many years ago, before the kids, where a sprig of rosemary stood upright in my mashed potatoes like a little Christmas tree and I thought that was the most clever use of rosemary yet). Its strong and memorable fragrance is bound to bring you back to somewhere in the memory bank of your life, perhaps to a teacher who somehow changed the direction of your path, or whose words ring in your ears all these years later.

I almost became a high school English teacher, but in my very last semester of college I had a moment of complete confusion while walking across campus about this career direction. I called my mother from a nearby pay phone, for yet another memorable mother/daughter conversation. You see, my mom was a nun when she was my age at the time! So any advice I asked her was always told from the point of view of someone wearing the traditional black-and-white clothing and living in a communal convent!

So she said to me, as I cried into a phone long-distance, feeling directionless and as if I was about to throw away the last couple years of my education, "When I went up for my final vows, I told the Mother Superior that I didn't think it was my calling."

"And what did she say?" I asked through sobs.

"She said, 'Why do you want to be a nun?' I answered, 'Because I'm good at it.' And she replied, 'You'll be good at lots of things. But what is it that you want to do?'"

Smart nun.

"Thanks, Mom," I said, hanging up the phone. (Don't even ask about our sex talk!)

And so I remembered the words scrawled across an essay of mine in 11th grade by an English teacher named Miss Gillespie. "You write with grace, wit and intelligence," she wrote. I knew then what I would do. I met with my advisor and told him I was leaving the Secondary Education part of my college coursework. He was gravely disappointed in me, and made it clear. I was graduated with a degree in English, moved back to New York City and held a series of jobs as a project manager and writer. I wrote to Dr. Manley years later and told him how my career had developed and how often in my job and life I felt like I was teaching (or at least sharing my discoveries) with others through my writing. He wrote a beautiful letter back to me, for which I was extremely grateful.

And so, all these years later, with rosemary in my hands, I'd like to thank Miss Gillespie, and Dr. Manley.

And Mom.

What teacher(s) would you thank?

UPDATE--several hours later

Sprig.com is running video tips from the guy who wrote the Go Green book. What do you think?

Cloth Napkins, My Frightening Carbon Output Number and Why I Think Change Is Hard--UPDATED

I'v been humbled. Sincerely humbled. I spent the past week scrutinizing every aspect of my daily life in order to see where I can make eco-improvements, with a particular emphasis on the "reducing" component of reduce, reuse and recycle (since waste is a sign of failure to plan--there is no waste in nature).

My "textbook" for the week was Go Green, Live Rich, which gives 50 tips for saving the earth--and saving or even generating money at the same time. The book includes links with every tip that empower you to take action right away. First stop for me was to check my carbon footprint. According to the book, the best carbon calculator is at www.earthlab.com/carbonprofile. It is about a three-miute survey, and voila, there's your number.

My family's number is 483. I checked to see what this means and here it is, folks--it means my family is responsible for 24.5 tons of carbon a year. Please keep in mind that we eat local (both in our kitchen garden and through participation in a CSA and farmers market), walk and bike when possible, use a rainbarrel, have had an energy audit that revealed we were doing most of the things we could to save energy in the home, eat vegetarian (almost my whole family now), recycle, hardly ever travel by plane (maybe one flight for my husband, none for the rest of us each year) and many more things, most of which you know from reading this blog. And guess what? The average score for a U.S. family is 325, with an output of 20 tons of carbon. The average Canadian family's score is 305, with an output of 17 tons of carbon. That makes us worse than average.

I was shocked. Granted, the survey, which prides itself on being quick to do, does not ask about vegetarian (which cuts carbon output due to food production in HALF), kitchen gardens or anything about lawn care at all, all points where we would have scored in our favor. But, my goodness, what am I doing wrong?

It appears to be the cars. My car (minivan) is eight years old and I was hoping to run it into the ground, that by using what I have rather than buying (especially since I think the next 5-10 years will reveal much better eco-options) would be the most environmentally sound decision. But it turns out I get 16 miles to the gallon city-driving (check your car here), which is mostly what I do. I'm thinking this is what killed me on the survey. But I don't see how we're any worse than most American families on this issue.

Anyway, I researched MARTA, the Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transportation Authority (our mass transit service). Three buses run through my town. But to take one to the farmers market, for instance, which is about 4 or 5 miles away, would take me literally an hour and two transfers, not including the long walk to the bus stop and waiting for the two buses. As it is, I get there by car in less than 10 minutes and run five errands or so every time I go in order to increase efficiency for the trip. Which is better?

I went through the entire book like this, looking up websites, evaluating my life. I ended up with a list of 31 bullets about things I could reduce, 2 bullets about things to reuse, and 5 bullets about recycling.

And you know what? It's hard. I work at home so it's not a stretch for me to put on a pot of whole grains bought in the bulk food section while I'm writing or to air-dry towels or to weed the garden during my lunch break, but it's constant thought and planning every single day--and I'm still failing on my carbon ouput!

Could I even imagine coming home from eight hours at an office job (and two hours of commuting) and carrying grey water from my upstairs shower to load my washing machine downstairs, trying to find something to eat from an overgrown garden while making homemade waffles for tomorrow's breakfast and plugging and unplugging appliances all over the house before and after using them?

Every single thing takes time, time that most people simply do not have. It's easy to be all high and mighty and say, "Well, if they made it a priority, they would have time," but I know how those folks feel. I know the level of exhaustion and how brain-fried a day of running around like crazy at work can make you feel by the time you get home. Add kids to the mix and the constant school recitals (as opposed to afterschool activities, which, granted, you can limit), homework assignments and need for more clothes because they keep doing that pesky thing called growing, and you might as well just call it a day.

And for those who don't know the United States, especially Atlanta, an infrastructure of environmental support simply does NOT exist yet, at least not out here in the suburbs. Change is coming, but folks making eco-choices are very much the odd ones out still. For instance:

The other day at a clothing store, I told the cashier I had my own bags and he said, "I have to put your purchases in a plastic bag, for security purposes."

I said, "I don't use plastic bags."

He said, "You have to. For security purposes."

Needless to say, after a bit of a back-and-forth struggle, I used my cloth bags, but I have these kinds of weird conversations every single day almost everywhere I go here.

So, I'm a bit frustrated. I know the little things matter, and this past week we made a bunch of small lifestyle switches:

* We're using cloth napkins only (we used to use them for just lunch and dinner)

* We're breaking the paper towel habit

* We're making homemade herbal tea every day and eliminating store-bought tea packaging

* The whole lawn thing with the push reel mower, of course (we've never wanted the grasss to grow so much! There's nothing to cut just yet!)

* My older daughter went veg

But until we can figure out the car thing (and you know we've been trying), I don't see how we're going to make a noticable change in that carbon output number.

So we're working on it. And we're sympathizing with everyone out there who doesn't know where to start, and doesn't know how to make a measurable difference. I clearly don't have the answers.

Time. I think that's an important part of the answer. Every change takes time, and an extraordinary amount of thought. Perhaps some of these changes become second-nature after awhile, but walking to school will always take an extra half hour, and that takes planning, especially when it's getting dark later and we're lingering in the garden instead of going to bed earlier in order to get up earlier to walk.

And so I'm trying to find a way to free up some time. One answer is to blog Monday through Friday and use a few extra hours on the weekends for some of these eco-changes. So that's one small change I'm making, starting this upcoming week.

In the meantime, cloth napkins. At least it's a step in the right direction.

This week on FoodShed Planet:

* Property values, or "Keeping Up with the Greens"

* The exciting arrival of Mr. Stripey

* What on earth are therms, and why can't the utility companies just SAY that?

* Every Monday Matters!

I'm happy to be back, where (most) folks don't think I'm crazy. It was lonely out there.



UPDATE--April 14, 2008

Okay, I went back to the carbon test and re-took it. The only changes I made were to indicate that 4 people live in my home instead of "2 adults", and I added a few bus trips (the afternoon school bus is used numerous times). Those two changes reduce my score to 342, with a carbon output of 14.8. Whatever. I just think that if you're going to ask about the size of the house, how much you drive your car, and the cost of water, electric, etc. and not include the children, then the results are no doubt going to be skewed higher. Okay, I'll let go now (I think).

Ut oh, I'm back. Last time, last time. Here's another interesting one--the Earthday Network's Ecological Footprint Quiz. This one does give credit for vegetarianism and for living and driving with others (i.e. kids). My total footprint was 15 acres in this quiz which, granted, would require 3.3 planets if everyone lived like me, but which fell way below the 24 acre footprint that is the average per person in the United States.

Stymied by Fear (or What Happened with the Wattle Seeds)--UPDATED!

I keep putting it off, cooking with the amazing array of Australian Outback bush spices, grown by traditional Aboriginal communities and distributed by a company named Outback Pride, that Kate sent me over a month ago. They are unfamiliar to me--the kutjera powder, the ground mountain pepper, the saltbush, the ground roasted wattle seeds. And it's not like I'm not excited about experimenting with them. I just keep putting it off.

I think I'm sort of scared. No matter how small a risk it is to try something new, it's still a risk, and it takes time and a willingness to get things wrong. And I'm reminded of when I talk with folks about getting CSA deliveries of farm-fresh crops, sight unseen, and many of them are, at the root of things, a bit frightened. Not sure what to do with all those greens. Concerned whether or not they'll like what they get. Afraid they'll end up having to go to the supermarket anyway and then, what was the effort worth?

I sat there on the garage floor (which I had to clean yesterday so that my cute little new lawn mower would have a convenient place in my too-small garage) and as I whipped through the minor assembly instructions of the mower, I thought about why I hadn't done this before. How I was sort of scared that the lawn would look bad if I did it myself, that I wouldn't have the time, that it would get too hot out there.

My goodness, this fear theory pretty much applies to lots of things. Afraid the recycled toilet paper will be scratchy. Afraid that if I get my car retrofitted to use vegetable oil, it will somehow blow up. Afraid that if I get solar panels installed, my roof will collapse. Afraid that if I stop and really think for longer than two minutes about all the things in my house that off-gas toxicities, I won't be able to breathe.

"What do we need to do about the house?" my husband asked. "Start over from the ground up?"

"Could we?" I answered, sort of facetiously, sort of not.

Fear is not a bad thing. It begs research, and it begs experimentation. It begs a willingness to try. A willingness to fail. A willingness to try again, differently. But fear is a paralyzer, even the little, teeny, tiny bit of fear that keeps me from putting a half-teaspoon of ground wattleseeds in my muffin batter.

As Martin Luther King, who was assassinated 40 years ago yesterday (and has now been deceased longer than he lived), said:

“Normal fear protects us; abnormal fear paralyzes us. Normal fear motivates us to improve our individual and collective welfare; abnormal fear constantly poisons and distorts our inner lives. Our problem is not to be rid of fear but, rather to harness and master it.”

What is it you're a bit afraid of that, really, is the thing that keeps you from making certain eco-changes? Taking the bus instead of driving and not getting to work on time? Installing a rain barrel and getting mosquitoes in it, or starting a compost pile and getting rodents? Buying a cleaning product that just doesn't work, or a food that your family just doesn't like? There are ways around all these little fears. But the biggest fear, of course, is that you may simply have to change your entire life, because, yes, it's true, one change begets another on the slippery slope of eco-awareness. And frankly, this fear is valid, because when I look back at the last six years or so (when I first met Farmer D), my life has completely changed.

Listen, I'm just a mom in surburbia. I drive an eight-year-old minivan. I check that homework gets done. I try to find something clean to wear to client meetings. I watch American Idol. I'm just trying to figure this all out, what happened during the 44 years of my life to our food supply and our planet, and trying to see what I can do to make a difference, at least in the way my children see the world and perhaps in the decisions they will make about how they live on this earth.

And I'm trying to share what I learn so that perhaps I can save some of you some time researching these things or figuring out jargon or cutting to the chase about what we're being told by corporations, or the government, or the folks on our left and right. I'm just trying to make sense of it all. And the one thing that I see, clear as day, is that fear is our enemy. Fear of doing something different. Fear of wasting time or money. Fear, sometimes, even of knowledge.

And so, no matter how small a gesture this may seem to you, I am taking this next week (Spring Break here in Atlanta) off from blogging. And I am facing my fears. I am cooking with Australian bush spices. I am evaluating every aspect of my daily life and seeing where I am stuck in "old-think," where I am stymied by fear. And I am opening myself to the next stage of this journey I share with you on our FoodShed Planet.

Please enjoy some of my previous posts, or links to the amazing fellow-bloggers I've somehow befriended.

A little story:

I have seeds sitting on the counter to mail and my older daughter said, "Who is this for?"

I answered, "My friend in Delaware,"

She said, "You don't have a friend in Delaware."

I replied, "Yes, I do. Christy. The lady to whom I sent the jalapenos last summer."

And she remembered. I threw her off, I think, because I didn't say my "blogger friend." Because, I guess, I no longer differentiate that way.

I send my heirloom organic seeds from food that fed my family to people I've never met and get Aboriginal spices from a previous stranger halfway around the world. All because one day six years ago I stopped and talked to Farmer D. And wasn't afraid to listen.

And so, off I go. See you next Sunday, perhaps as a changed person.

UPDATE: April 8, 2008

And speaking of Farmer D, here's the brand new Farmer D/Whole Foods video that's running on the Whole Foods website! Don't you see what I mean about his peaceful aura? I can't wait to go to Whole Foods this week and actually see (and buy) the Farmer D Organics Organic Biodynamic Compost! Just in time for my summer seeds and transplants (I hear Melissa has organic tomato plants at the farmers market this week).

"Reel Mowers. Pushing On for the Planet." UPDATED!

"Honey, would you hand me the magazine that's on the kitchen table, please?" I ask my younger daughter as I settle onto the couch to rest a moment.

"The one that says Danger, Danger, Danger on it?" she asks, nonchalantly.

"Yes, that's the one. Thanks, hon," I answer, as she gives me the first issue of Pesticides and You that I've received as a result of ordering that Pesticide Free ladybug sign awhile back (was it all that long ago when I was young and carefree and used to read Glamour magazine, or was that a completely different person?!)

I haven't put the ladybug sign out yet on my front lawn because the transition is not yet complete. Yes, I canceled my lawn treatment people and am about to sign up with Earth Balance Organics for a customized, minimal treatment plan that includes things like sea kelp and corn gluten. But, I'll be honest here. The Earth Balance program costs three times the amount of my chemical guy. Three times. Not ten percent more. Two hundred percent more.

Yikes. I almost canned the idea, but then I sat down in my garden, where a member of our annual rabbit family has finally appeared again and is grazing on the clover in the back lawn that's been chemical-free for three years now (the rabbits have had no interest in my lettuces ever since I started "growing" clover), and I tried to think like Patagonia.

1. The chemicals are no longer a choice.
2. The organic methods cost three times as much.
3. My available funds haven't changed.
4. I have to find a way to save money somewhere else.

I thought a minute, and a problem-begging-to-be-solved emerged. My lawn maintenance service. I have them come every other week (I think most people in this neighborhood have a lawn maintenance service come weekly, although, to be fair, several of my neighbors mow their own lawns). They barrel across the lawn with a gas-powered ride-on mower, followed by gas-powered edging and gas-powered blowing.

5. Gas is no longer an option (and frankly, I'm guessing we'll be getting a letter soon about their increased prices because of the gas).

So I research manual push mowers (called push reel mowers). Turns out (a) they are cute, (b) they are only about 100 bucks (which, unfortunately, means say goodbye to two cute organic dresses from Patagonia!), and (c) they are great exercise. I talk to Greg at Earth Balance and he tells me that Bermuda grass (like mine) loves reel mowers because it snips the grass like scissors instead of whacking its head off like with the rotary mower. Using a reel mower leads to a healthier lawn. It's as simple as that.

So I call Home Depot and get an older guy on the phone from the Outdoor Equipment department. I ask if there are any push reel mowers in stock. He says, "You mean like the old fashioned kind?" I sense excitement in his voice.

"Yes!" I answer, enthusiastically.

He goes and checks and says that yes, they do have some. I ask if they are already assembled and he answers, "It's not like there's all that much to 'em, m'am!"

So I tell my friend Richard-of-the-Worms about this, and he says he's about to buy a new mower, too, but an electric one. I say, "Why electric?" Next thing you know, Richard is the proud owner of a push reel mower and he calls me raving about it. He loves it, as does everyone else whose comments I read on Amazon.com and other online review places. (I'm heading over to Richard's this morning to try it out.)

So I talk with my older daughter (who is completely on board with all this eco-stuff--her first-stop news source is ENN.com, and she is always on the hunt for extra forms of exercise) about the push reel mower and about working together on the lawn. She loves the idea. "One week you mow and I'll edge, and the next week we'll switch!" she offers enthusiastically. I think she's already choosing her mowing outfits. I love that I can let her do this, which I would not do if it involved gas or that long, electric cord (which I ran over when I was about 17 and from which I have yet to emotionally recover).

My husband is a bit reluctant, even though the work of this will fall to me (I'm the "outside person" in this relationship).

"The lawn looks so good, honey," he says. "I'm not so sure about it."

Sure, it looks good, but I don't even want our kids to cartwheel on it.

I tell him that we'll do it as an experiment, that we'll recoup the costs of the mower and a manual edger in about two or three months, and that will put us smack in the heat of the summer, and if it's not working, I'll bring back the lawn company.

But it has to work. Because that's the only way I can afford Earth Balance. And two conversations with Greg on the phone make it clear to me already that I have much to learn from him. He is a horticulturist, married to a naturopath, who has been offering both an "earth steward" and a completely organic program for five years now. He says about 80% of his customers go with earth steward (which does include some chemicals, only when they are the most effective choice for a targeted problem) and about 20% go with completely organic. He says of the 20%, the majority are parents with children with disabilities or environmental issues, many with autism. If that doesn't get you thinking . . .

And so, back to my Pesticides and You magazine. Right there, on page 4, the headline reads National Mall Tests Organic Lawn Care. Turns out that Safelawns.org (the folks from which I got the sign) will manage the National Mall Soil and Turf Improvement Project, using aeration, compost and compost tea applications and overseeding in order to build thick turf on four acres of this pedestrian greenspace in our nation's capital. The Environmental Protection Agency's Environmental Stewardship Program is keeping records of the project, which is expected to run though August, 2009.

Safelawn.org's founder, Paul Tukey, is quoted as saying:

If we can grow resilient grass on the National mall, where 27 million people trample the lawn each year, then we have demonstrated that we can grow grass anywhere. Most importantly, we'll have proved that you can grow grass without relying on chemical fertilizers and pesticides that can harm wildlife and contaminate drinking water, as well as cause harm to people and their pets.

As for me, this move to chemical-free and "people power" is a step toward a ten-year plan of total lawn reduction, and the natural continuation of my family's personal journey toward simplicity, connecting with our neighbors, and teaching our children more about caring for the piece of land in the world that has been entrusted to us.

As I said to my husband, "The girls should learn how to mow the lawn. It's a great work ethic to have, a basic skill that is not being taught anymore, and wonderful exercise as well. And the years during which we have to teach them these things are slipping away."

So, push reel mowers. Richard has one. My friend John-of-the-Christmas-bottle-tree is planning on getting one, and I hope to have one today. I feel a movement coming on. The Reel Mowers. Pushing on for the Planet! Join us!

As for Earth Balance Organics, if you're in Atlanta and are considering making the switch, too, let Greg know I sent you and let's work together to make a difference. Every little bit counts. Be the one the neighbors talk about when they say, "The grass is greener on the other side of the fence." Your side.

UPDATE: Several hours later

Tried Richard's lawn mower. Easy to push. Light. Soft, squishy, continually adjustable (not locked in one position) handle. FUN.

Bought mine at Home Depot (although it wasn't marked with an Eco-Options tag), plus a manual edger and grass shears. Total cost: $181. Had a very nice talk with the assistant manager. Not sure if he liked my endless ideas or was just humoring me :)

Off we go!