FoodShed Planet

Happiness Is . . .

2013-06-16T06:41:00.000-04:00

Happiness is . . . the first meal after the electricity comes back on following a power-busting storm, especially when it includes fresh basil and oregano from the garden, and a side of green beans. (Not garden tomatoes yet--they are just starting to turn red.)

See my pizza recipe on page 140 in my book. Or keep tapping back in here to FoodShed Planet to see more Fresh Harvest Pizzas throughout the year.

A Simple Question (or So I Thought). Two Years. Still No Answer.

2013-06-15T07:11:00.000-04:00

"Reflections" while crouched in the bathroom during the storm

My metropolitan area got clobbered with storms that included tornadoes two nights ago. As I crouched in my little half-bathroom by the light of an LED candle, wearing my evacuation outfit, holding my to-go bag, sporting my wedding rings (which I don't usually wear), thinking about the headline of this Op-Ed piece just six days ago in The New York Times (Hazy with a Chance of Apocalypse), I called my teen on my cell phone (she was crouched in a basement stairwell at a home across town) and could not give her the answer to the question I've been trying to get answered by my city for over two years now. The question is simple (or so I thought). "What do I tell my teens our city's intended emergency shelter location would be following an emergency or disaster (if needed)?"(Please note I'm talking about the location Red Cross would use if things were so bad that that was necessary. In most cities this is the high school or another building owned by the city--my city does not own the schools or any other building, which suggests to me that establishing a relationship to use a location prior to it being needed makes sense).

I have a series of emails from City Hall that is pages long about all the reasons the city does not yet have an answer. I emailed City Hall once again this morning and asked what I can do specifically to help us land on this question, and if we can set a goal for a date on which to actually have an answer. A goal is a dream with a deadline. I like dreams. I like goals even more.

Let me rerun this post from this past January, following a tornado touch-down about an hour from my home. The information is just as pertinent now as then. Lemonade Days (see asterisk at bottom of post) has come and gone. And the question is still unanswered.

Photo from here

A Story with a Twist, and Plea for a Plan
(originally published on FoodShed Planet on January 31, 2013)

A tornado touched down in the North Georgia city of Adairsville, 60 miles north of my metro-Atlanta city, just after 11 AM yesterday and continued on the ground for two miles. It toppled trees, smashed homes, flipped more than 100 cars on a major interstate highway, injured many, killed one, and scattered debris everywhere. By 3:38 PM, it was reported that the Red Cross had set up an emergency shelter for any displaced people at a local youth facility. It was set up to accommodate 100 people, and about 25 were already there at that time. A second shelter was set up at a church. By 4 PM, it was announced on the quickly-established Facebook page dedicated to the tornado that the Adairsville Middle School was open as a shelter as well.

I don't know the back story on Adairsville and their disaster planning process, but I do know that it is very common for cities to have pre-established decisions and relationships regarding the most likely locations for citizen emergency shelters following natural or man-made disasters. It is typically the local schools.

My 46,000-citizen city (which swells to a population of more than 100,000 on weekdays) does not have this, or any, established emergency shelter relationships, partly because it doesn't own the schools and our county school system is in crisis, and also because it doesn't own any buildings at all (being only four years old). The city does, however, have within its 12-square miles a community college, a large mall, and the Americas headquarters of a private company (InterContinental Hotels Group) that has a global program called Shelter in a Storm, which (and this is directly from its website) "enables our network of over 4,500 hotels to support their communities in times of disaster. The Programme includes the IHG Shelter Fund which provides immediate vital assistance including shelter, food, water and other necessities to people impacted by natural and man-made disasters." Does the Shelter in a Storm Programme include the flagship IHG Crowne Plaza property in my city? I don't know. If not, could it? I don't know.

I have been asking my city for two years (following all the big weather disasters in the news) what would be our probable shelter location in case of disaster or emergency. As part of my family's personal plan, I want to be sure all family members (including a teen who drives herself to and from school in another county) know this detail in case we are separated and can't access our home following a disaster. There continues to not be an answer, although one person says that the principal of the high school will be asked and another says a committee will be formed and another says to go visit ready.gov and help yourself (which does include lots of valuable information, including this: Knowing about the local emergency plans for shelter and evacuation and local emergency contacts will help you develop your household plan and will also aid you during a crisis).

Truth? If a disaster were to hit, I'm sure folks hard at work would arrange something quickly in conjunction with disaster relief agencies such as The Red Cross. Perhaps a plan is not necessary. But for some reason, to me, it seems to make sense. Especially when you consider the increasing frequency of these storms. And also when you realize the fact (here's the "twist" part of this story) that my city (before it was a city) was already hit by a tornado (in 1998*). You'd think we'd be on this.

Does your city have a plan? Do your fellow citizens know it? Is there something you can do to help? If you need a professional writer to help with your communications materials, please keep me in mind.

* From Wikipedia: The Dunwoody tornado was a significant tornado that tore across the northern suburbs of metro Atlanta on April 9, 1998. It struck parts of the four most populous counties in Georgia: Cobb, Fulton, DeKalb, and Gwinnett. The most severe damage was in the Dunwoody area, where the storm reached a high-end F2 on the Fujita scale, making it one of the strongest and most damaging recorded to have hit that area.

Note: My city throws a large weekend event each year named Lemonade Days. It was originally started to help "make lemonade out of lemons" following the Dunwoody tornado by raising money to replant the Dunwoody forest. Perhaps by this year's Lemonade Days in April, we'll finally have a complete plan in place in case of emergency or disaster, clearly communicated to citizens.

See some of my previous emergency preparedness/disaster posts here:

A Prayer that the Sun Will One Day Shine Again
I Got Cash. I Packed Almonds.
Wringing My Hands with a Worry I Never Had Before
Silence This Week Out of Respect to Japan
Let's Not Monkey Around with Preparedness

Seeing with New Eyes

2013-06-13T19:06:00.003-04:00

The challenge when you go somewhere you've been many times is to come at it with fresh eyes.

I am in love with the High Museum in Atlanta. I've been there enough now that I have a favorite room (the Howard Finster Paradise Garden room) and pieces of art (the folk art piece made out of pine cones and house paint, for one). I always watch the video about the guy who made the wooden church people, and I'm always amazed that someone took the time to do that, that his efforts added up to something so interesting in life. I always take a picture of the glass ceiling as the clouds roll by in the Renzo Piano building with the multi-floor ramp that I like to run down. And I also always want to see something new, and something old in a new way. Today, let's just say a video about an exhibit of jewelry inspired by nature

fulfilled the "something new" requirement.

As for "something old in a new way," today I imagined all the sculptures were actors, and I shot their head shots. This was fun, and I love how it turned out.

Grab your camera or writing/sketch pad, head on out to some favorite place of yours, and look at things with fresh eyes. You may be surprised at your ability to see things differently. And you may be surprised to get creative ideas about other things in the world as well. If you sleep on it a bit and work on it awhile, you may even come up with ideas that change the world.

(See If You Can Imagine It, You Can Achieve It--this post is mostly photos, and one of my favorite ones ever. I think you will like it.)

A Community of Gardeners

2013-06-13T10:44:00.002-04:00

I asked the members of the American Community Gardening Association listserv what their favorite part of being in a community garden is. The answers came back quickly and enthusiastically. (My favorite part of community gardens is having somewhere to go to "see what's doing.")

Someone named Jama wrote that Colorado State University reported a few benefits of gardening that would apply to community gardens. In terms of life satisfaction, "accessibility to nature" was scored second only to a "good marriage." The most frequent benefit reported by gardeners was "stress reduction." A woman named Joyce told me her favorite part of being in a community garden is weeding, harvesting and composting anything that gets her down and dirty both figuratively and actually. Another enjoys how the growth of the gardeners as a community, all working for all, spills over into our lives outside the garden, and we find ourselves becoming activists as well as food growers. And many mention the diversity of people involved, such as Dani in Los Angeles, whose garden is almost 50% Korean-American members.

Photos from Piermont Community Garden blog

One garden leader in particular invited me to visit their garden, just 25 miles up the river from New York City and recently restored after Hurricane Sandy destruction. And when I woke up this morning, I realized I now have a friend at that garden, and, I guess, at all these other gardens mentioned as well. And really, perhaps, at any garden anywhere in the world. I am truly part of a community of gardens not just in Atlanta but everywhere. As are you.

It's no surprise that when I travel, the first thing I do is find the gardens, like here at the Swinton Community Garden in Delray Beach, Florida, and here at the Battery Urban Farm at the southern tip of Manhattan. Although I'm traipsing around the cork oak forests in Portugal next week, I expect I'll meander in my share of small family gardens as well. ("Where's Pattie?" on day one may become, "Go find Pattie in the garden" by day two.) And one of the first things I did when finding out I'll be spending a lot of time in a different part of Atlanta soon was contact my friend, Fred, who is the Atlanta Food Bank liaison to more than 150 community gardens, and ask "Where can I dig with you?" (You remember Fred? Here's a post about when the American Community Gardening Association had its annual conference in Atlanta. This year it's in Seattle, by the way. I expect folks will be touring the Beacon Food Forest, the largest public food forest in the United States. Maybe one day the conference will be back in Atlanta and will feature the Edible Beltline.)

I tell you all this so you can see why the documentary A Community of Gardeners hit home for me. Sure, it's about seven diverse community gardens in Washington D.C. But really, it's about you and me, anywhere. Directed by Cintia Cabib, who told me she is originally from Argentina (and not a gardener, by the way--sort of like with Scott Kennedy/they both just like to tell stories that need telling), A Community of Gardeners has a lovely pace that somehow replicates being in the garden. It's only an hour long, but it truly breathes. It relaxes into its stories. People take down their guards and share things like the food pantry client who says "it lets me keep my dignity when I work in the garden" and the child in the wheelchair who says "when I come out here, I feel happy, cool, and normal."

And everyone feels at home in their community garden--from the landscape designer who recently moved to a condo and missed having somewhere to grow to the men from elsewhere who say things like "when I see the corn, I think I'm in Africa" and "when we come here, for a moment we think we are back in Albania." There's a young woman who grows lettuces for her rabbit, and a group of siblings who got separated when their mother died and only see each other in the garden. There's a woman who refers to herself with pride as the Beneficial Insects Manager. And there's the elderly African American woman from Georgia who says my favorite line in the movie, "When I grew up, I never knew we were poor because we were never hungry." If that isn't food for thought, I don't know what is. A good solid 20% of Americans will go to bed hungry tonight.

And for those of us into city planning, there's even a 13-minute bonus feature, titled A Garden Grows at 13th and C Streets, about how a community transformed an unused, unsightly corner into a city park, including a small community garden. (Here are tips from me about how to start a community garden on public land near you.)

So, back at the community garden I helped start four years ago right about now (and where I am no longer involved at all except to visit), there's about to be new leadership. Nicole Maslanka, chairperson of Dunwoody Community Garden's 2.0 version (after Rebecca Barria served as the first chair) has resigned after almost two years of extraordinary service, during which time the garden won an orchard in a national contest, expanded in all directions, and forged new relationships.

I worry about that garden sometimes, about how it will keep the passion alive and persevere. But after watching A Community of Gardeners, featuring several gardens with long histories (such as the Melvin Hazen Community Garden, which was started as a Victory Garden in 1943--and by the way, the movie gives an excellent overview of the history of community gardens), I am starting to believe that all will be as it is meant to be. And that we are all, always, a community. Close to home and around the world.

Happiness Is . . .

2013-06-12T19:15:00.003-04:00

Happiness is . . . helping all the little tendrils find their way.

This Is What Passion Looks Like

2013-06-12T16:36:00.001-04:00

So I was asked to speak to a group of teens who are taking a leadership class this week, and I was telling them about passion as we walked from the back field to the community garden to the food pantry (passing a bus shelter along the way, which I hope they now see with new eyes after seeing all the food pantry clients who rely on it). I told them about my friend, David, about how he simply asked for some potatoes to be donated from area supermarkets when we were planting last year, and then he kept going back and getting more and more to bring. In the process, he fell in love with gleaning. I told them that he found his passion, and that their challenge is to each find theirs.

David usually brings about 500 pounds of fresh food each week to our local food pantry (that's a ton a month), and now also goes to two other places on other days as well. He just bought this van (which has no air conditioning and it was in the 90s today), and he drives something like a 25-mile loop to the stores. He brought about 1,000 pounds of fresh produce today. Twice his usual.

He honks when he arrives. We all wave and gather. Lots of folks help him unload. It's fun.

Look at that face. That is a happy man. That is what passion looks like. If you look in the mirror and don't see a face that looks happy like that, you're not doing something about which you feel passionate. Perhaps it's time to make some changes in your life.

"Listen to your heart. It knows where it wants to go." That is what I told the teens. I also told them I'd give them shout-outs if they take a leadership action re: something about which they feel passionate and want me to share. Stay tuned.

Here are some other posts about David's journey:

* What Happens at Meetings that Require Pitchforks (Featuring David Skoke)

*The Wooly Mammoth, the "Kevin Bacon of Wasted Food," and a Simple Request Made to Costco (Updated Twice)

*Our First "Naked Truth about Hunger" Male Model

* Costco, You Are Invited to the Table (Updated Twice)

Edible Bus Shelters--Why Not in My City, or Yours? UPDATED

2013-06-12T07:27:00.000-04:00

photo from here

So, I'm talking to high school students this week who are in a leadership program and you can be sure the tour I give them will include a bus shelter and "what's possible."

You see, I saw on my friend Rick's blog that at this week's city council meeting in my metro-Atlanta city (which was the newest city in the United States until just recently), there was talk about getting rid of the Atlanta transit system's bus shelters because it won't share advertising revenue with my city. A voice-of-reason city councilor said that the bus shelters are needed, and then the idea of installing our own city bus shelters came up. I, of course, think of the edible bus shelter prototype we're creating with locally-harvested bamboo with the clients at the food pantry garden, right here in this city (see Turning Negative Space into Positive). It's not covered with vines dangling with beans, cucumbers, and morning glories yet, but if you squint your eyes a bit, you can imagine. And I like to imagine what's possible. (I imagine these all over the Atlanta Beltline, in fact. See Idea: Publicly-Accessible Edibles for Every Mile of the Atlanta Beltline? They could also be cute "edible rest stops" on Dunwoody's new trail system. They could even have swings under them, or tables with chess boards.)

My city likes to think of itself as "upscale," however. So my guess is that bus shelters will be chosen that "match the standards" of what's increasingly becoming a city-wide master-planned look (and even though the bamboo is very cool, local, free, and abundant*, it's not exactly "on brand"). So I did a little online searching for something quality-made, elegant, attractive, and "fitting with the image" of this city, and found the photo at the top of this blog post. Pictured to the left is another style. Not as quaint or 'Williamsburghy" enough, however, if you ask me, but there are clearly many ways to design something effective and attractive that delivers more value than advertisements to citizens and visitors to our city. I'm sure all our great local designers and builders would have ideas.

At first I thought suggesting at least one edible bus shelter within our city limits would be immediately laughed off the table (okay, fine, if you're laughing at city hall, have fun--fun matters), but then I got to thinking, "Why not?" Are we so inside-the-box that we can't do something a little innovative, creative, and community-building? Why not something like the pergola pictured on top of this post for bus shelters in Dunwoody? Could be high-quality, elegant, and "small town feel with big city appeal"** And could support easy-to-grow muscadines up and over it (perennial) or other vining crops. (And when they are not in season, no problem--it still looks great!) Folks could adopt them (or not). A place in England has not only an Edible Bus Stop but an entire Edible Bus Route. Why not us? Could be charming.

Or we could do nothing, like this (which is around the block from where I live, right here in this brand-conscious city). Let's just be aware of the fun and life-affirming possibilities we are rejecting when we do so.

To those all over our FoodShed Planet, let us know if you live in a city with an edible bus stop. Are there even any in the United States yet? Or is this a new opportunity for some smart city to be "first"?

* see The Bounty of Bamboo, and Introducing My Rube Goldberg Crop Machine

** that was my branding line recommendation from when I served on the Comprehensive Land Use Plan (CLUP) steering committee. I can't even talk about what the final branding ended up being (although I wrote about it: see Was Kinda' Hoping for Pride). As for the final, published CLUP, it includes a short-term work plan intention that specifically mentions increasing food security. See 11 Local Food Abundance Suggestions for City Hall. I'd have to add #12 to that now--edible bus shelters. :)

UPDATE: Just when I think I'm outside the box with the Edible Bus Shelter, I find the Edible Roller Coaster!

"To Lock or Not to Lock"

2013-06-11T06:40:00.002-04:00

To lock or not to lock. That was the question at our new community garden a few years ago (and perhaps at many gardens right now as the first ripe tomato gets swiped).

Whether ‘twas nobler in the mind to suffer the stealing of an outrageous fortune in tomatoes, or to take arms against a sea of vandalizing teenagers, and by opposing, end it.

These were the butchered words of Shakespeare’s play Hamlet rolling around in my head as I left my little suburban hamlet to visit an urban farm in the City of Atlanta. I exited the highway, planes from nearby Hartsfield International Airport swooping over me during takeoff, and made a couple lefts to arrive at . . . (read the rest of the article here to find out urban farming lessons you may find helpful that I learned that day and through interviews with urban farmers nationwide).

Being "Serviced" by an Urban Farm Cat

2013-06-10T05:10:00.003-04:00

Some days when I go outside, it feels like Snow White's forest. Bunnies. Birds. Chipmunks. An occasional deer. Even lizards. Everyone is munching away on this or that, happy as can be. I sometimes think Snow White herself will be standing there, singing, arms outstretched and lined with chirping birds.

The hawks circle overhead, and nature feels in balance. I even discovered my little urban farm is being "serviced" by this neighborhood cat, who takes his critter-hunting job very seriously.

All's well in the ecosystem.

Bloomin' Onions! (And a Whole Armful of Garlic)

2013-06-09T08:21:00.004-04:00

They are so pretty, the blooming onions. Mostly white, but then there was this purple one. They've been punctuating my garden for weeks now. They always remind me of something out of a Dr. Seuss book. The bees love them. And they make me smile.

Yesterday was the day. Time to harvest, both the onions and the garlic (and their curly, tasty scapes).

Sunrises are glorious. Sweets are delicious. Love is life-affirming. But few things are more enjoyable than harvesting root crops, especially whole armfuls of them. It's just as simple as that.

Et Tu, Brute?

2013-06-09T07:38:00.002-04:00

So I'm trotting through a store called Harry's, which is owned by Whole Foods, when I see that good ole' Sustainable Red wine has a newly-designed label.

"How nice," I think, feeling warm and fuzzy thoughts, remembering my lovely interview with owner Paul Dolan a few years back. But then I see that it has a screw cap, as does its sister wine, Sustainable White, right next to it. I had started getting used to whites forgoing the cork. Seems that "cork taint" is more noticeable in whites than reds, so wineries will often switch that one first. (But do note that cork taint is down to something like 1% of all bottles of wine now, and that it can be caused by barrels, pallets, and other wood surfaces in a winery.)

But here's where Dognitive Dissonance kicked in again. I turn the bottle over and see Paul's usual list of eco-achievements for the Sustainable brand. Check mark #5: Earth friendly packaging. Huh? There's nothing earth-friendly about screw caps. They rely on environmentally-damaging bauxite mines (which are all in third-world countries), and they are typically not recycled either by consumers or by municipal systems (even though they are technically recyclable). What's going on here? More greenwashing?

I already wrote to Paul when I discovered the Bonterra screw cap a while ago (he had originally head up that winery, and that's how I first got into all this sustainability stuff, after reading his book True to Our Roots--I interviewed him here), but hadn't heard back. I'll write to him again, this time about Sustainable Red and White. Only one line runs through my head when I think of this decision by Paul regarding screw caps. Et tu, Brute?

By the way, my trip to Portugal was just cut short a day due to a planned Portugese Labor Union transit strike on the day we were originally scheduled to come home, so no Douro Valley winery visits for us. I did pick up a few Douro wines at a nearby wine superstore as "research." And although these two have "natural cork inside," (as Patrick Spencer at the Cork Forest Conservation Alliance calls it), a whole row of wines from Portugal didn't. They had screw caps. Huh?

If after almost three months of researching this stuff (all on my own dime, by the way--no one is paying me to advocate for them), I'm still seeing extremely confusing and contradictory marketplace messages, imagine the general public. You have a definite uphill communications challenge, Patrick.

See my "Talking Cork with Pattie Baker" series of articles written in real time as I've discovered more about this topic, and learn along with me! I leave for Portugal shortly, camera in hand. Do we save this ecosystem or don't we? (Because we can, you know.) As usual, FoodShed Planet readers, I'm at your service. I'll bear witness.

1. "Bark to Bottle" (and How Cork Oak Forests are Getting Screwed)
2. A Turning Point in History for Cork Oak Forests--and I Will Bear Witness
3. "Dognitive" Dissonance
4. A "Gourd"geous Water Bottle, and More from My "Cork Series"
5. Some Surprising Discoveries about Women, Power, and Cork
6. The Top 10 Things to Know about Cork (to Be as Fun on a Walk as I Am)
7. "Aglet Face," and the Cold, Harsh Truth, Courtesy of Yoda
8. Cork=Good, but Easier Said than Done
9. "Lynx" Across generations, and Across the Ocean (and Why No One Seems to Care)

Happiness Is . . .

2013-06-07T07:02:00.001-04:00

Happiness is . . . finding one last carrot, and the first of the beans.

Waiting for Word

2013-06-06T20:39:00.002-04:00

Sustainability, really, is just about using resources in a way so that there is enough for future generations. It's pretty much as simple as that.

I happened upon these soon-to-be-grandparents in the maternity ward lobby at the hospital, awaiting word of the new arrival to their family. And things got boiled down to basics pretty quickly in my mind.

Sometimes a reminder like this is necessary.

Greenwashing Example

2013-06-06T07:30:00.003-04:00

I've been hanging out at the hospital a bit each day this week due to a family member's surgery. These little sojourns, of course, present opportunities for observing sustainable design attributes in action (such as when I was at the children's hospital a few months back).

There were really no obvious sustainable design attributes which caught my eye at the "grownup hospital," and McDonald's still dominating the cafeteria after all these years was a particularly negative surprise to me (although an excellent separate cafeteria section offers many healthy options, negated only by the completely overpowering smell of the McDonald's grease in the shared seating area--in short, there was no escaping it*).

I was happy to see this eco-looking display on the wall, however, only to find that it's only claim to eco-fame was that it dispenses one plastic utensil at a time. No compostable materials. No attempt to recycle them. No lower-energy production. Nothing. That's called greenwashing to me.

Whatever.

* I tried taking my food outside onto the patio, but it overlooked a roof that was so ugly that sitting inside with the disgusting smell of the McDonald's grease was actually the better choice. What an opportunity for this hospital to design an attractive, stress-reducing, health-enhancing green roof to benefit patients' loved ones and hospital workers alike as they receive needed sustenance.

"Lynx" Across Generations, and Across the Ocean (and Why No One Seems to Care)

2013-06-04T07:01:00.001-04:00

So I just finished reading this children's book, which I bought for a penny from a library in Ottawa, Canada. These are the lengths you go to when you are deep in research for a trip to the cork oak forests of Portugal. Turns out the Iberian lynx is the most endangered big cat in the world, with only about 100 left, and if the current rate of reduction continues, it will be the first big cat to go extinct since the sabre tooth tiger (think Flintstones era). It lives in the cork oak forests of Portugal and Spain, it serves as a top-of-the-food-chain "super-predator," and it eats mainly rabbits (which have been wiped out about 95%, supposedly by some virus).

As the cork oak trees get cut down for development and conversion to more economically robust eucalyptus forests (now that screw caps are taking over the wine closure world), the world's second-most bio-diverse ecosystem (the Amazon rainforest in #1) is disappearing. (Eucalyptus is used to make paper products, and it is non-native, water-intensive, erosion-causing, and highly flammable, all things the cork oak trees are not.) (See The Top Ten Things to Know About Cork here.)

People plant cork oak forests not for themselves or their children, but for their grandchildren (the trees live about 200 years), but with youth unemployment at just about 40% in Portugal (with Greece and Spain having the only higher rates in Europe) and the hope for making a living from cork diminishing yearly, young people are turning elsewhere or leaving. What's more, the Iberian lynx and the conservation of its healthy ecosystem is definitely the "lynx" to the future for not just Portugal but the world (the cork oak forests sequester enormous amounts of carbon dioxide, and even more when the cork is harvested, without any harm to the tree, and the bark is regrowing).

All interesting, life-altering stuff, but, you know what? No one cares. Well, actually, many people care, but just not the wine-buying Americans (specifically women) who have the power to save the forests with every bottle of wine they purchase. Even if they want to help, there is no product labeling currently in use that makes it clear that there is "real cork inside" (although, my goodness, Patrick Spencer of the Cork Forest Conservation Alliance is certainly trying to make this happen). So, consumers, conservationists, and connections across generations are pretty much sh*t outta luck right now. (See Cork=Good, but Easier Said than Done.)

I got to thinking there's gotta be more to this story. More that can help those of us an ocean away (and elsewhere around our FoodShed Planet) to care. (Frankly, we're busy, and have you seen the news lately? There are a LOT of problems out there). And then I fell upon fado.

Fado is the music of Portugal. It is considered its "blues" and is traditionally performed by a woman (often wearing a black shawl) called a "fadista" with a 12-string guitar called a guitarra portuguesa. It showcases a key attribute of the Portugese--their embodiment of something called saudade, for which there is no direct English translation (and which sounds to me a lot like the taste of Littmus Lozenges from the book Because of Winn Dixie, and the smell of wisteria here in Atlanta--see The Melancholy Is Blooming).

Saudade means a deep melancholy and mournful longing that can perhaps never be fulfilled, and it stems from the fact that this long strip of ocean-fronted land has seen centuries of sea-faring loved ones leave (as explorers and fishermen) and never return. Fado, which has been around since the early 1800s, regained popularity during the massive emigration of its citizens in the 1970s at the end of its final dictatorship. (Portugal became a democracy at the time I was singing early Billy Joel songs and wondering why my little hometown of Mineola on Long Island in New York was suddenly becoming increasingly populated by Portugese immigrants--and, by the way, I fell in love with all their backyard vegetable gardens!)

So, now, let's add this all up:

1. A place where the ocean claimed the lives of loved ones is the same place where people plant trees that will live for 200 years in order to give their families roots.

2. The "lynx" is just about extinct, and the links between generations are disappearing as well.

3. Fado continues to surge in popularity, with fado clubs featuring globally-renowned performing artists nightly. The word "saudade" can be found in songs, band names, and other musical influences across musical genres and countries, proving the great universality of its emotion. The longing for a homeland or loved one. The pain of loss. You know that feeling. I know that feeling (see And I Knew That One Day I Would Be Back). We share that humanity.

This past week alone there have been excavations of a fully-intact wooly mammoth with blood that still flows liquid (for goodness sake), and the most intact-ever triceratops (plus two additional ones, including what appears to be a baby). With each new environmental, social, and economic disaster our world faces, we are also faced with the opportunity to change history, and to keep currently-viable species such as the Iberian lynx from joining these frozen and buried archeological dig remnants. But first we have to care, and frankly, there's no magic bullet formula to making that happen. I have a hunch, perhaps, that looking in the eyes of people with palpable saudade, and feeling it, too, might be a start.

I will be doing that for you, in mere weeks. I will look into those eyes and make the "lynx." And I will report back to you what I find. And what I feel.

This is all becoming very artistically interesting to me, and I have some specific photo journalism ideas about how to communicate it. Stay tuned. (I am also interested in covering the many angles of this story for media organizations and am actively pitching stories. If you think we should talk, please feel free to contact me and I can craft an angle that works for your readership.)

See the rest of my "Talking Cork with Pattie Baker" series here:

1. "Bark to Bottle" (and How Cork Oak Forests are Getting Screwed)
2. A Turning Point in History for Cork Oak Forests--and I Will Bear Witness
3. "Dognitive" Dissonance
4. A "Gourd"geous Water Bottle, and More from My "Cork Series"
5. Some Surprising Discoveries about Women, Power, and Cork
6. The Top 10 Things to Know about Cork (to Be as Fun on a Walk as I Am)
7. "Aglet Face," and the Cold, Harsh Truth, Courtesy of Yoda
8. Cork=Good, but Easier Said than Done

Thought I Died and Went to Heaven (and Then Realized I Was Back at Delray Beach, Florida)

2013-06-03T07:24:00.003-04:00

I honestly can't say enough good things about Delray Beach on the Atlantic Ocean in south Florida. It is a national model of sustainability in so, so many ways. I travel there each year to visit relatives, and it just keeps getting better. It's also getting younger, hipper, livelier, and more arts-focused. (The downtown night scene is a definite scene while the beach is completely relaxed, free, and easily accessible, and every single part of the city is easily walkable--note the mail carrier in the collage above). Here are previous posts about it:

National Model of Sustainability
And I Could Feel the Sun's Rays on Me Once Again
Thinking Outside the Air Conditioning Box

Half a Million Views, and How My View Is Changing Soon

2013-05-26T07:17:00.000-04:00

My final scooter ride ever home from the bus stop

Sometime during last night, this blog hit the 500,000-page-view milestone. Now, that may not sound like a lot to million-hits-a-day kinds of blogs, but to me, a mom and freelance writer who feels like I had been starting to sort of rot on the bottom of the hill in suburbia, it's pretty cool.

I was shocked years ago to find out some things about our world, I set out to share what I was learning, and things just grew from there. It has been extraordinarily fun and rewarding. I've especially loved being able to showcase so many people I've met who are doing amazing things, including urban farmers, business owners, authors, movie directors (I have a new post about one coming soon!), and many, many others changing the world in some small or large way. I've also loved being able to invite people to join me in action, and to feel as if together we've accomplished a thing or two. Thank you for all the times I invited you along, and you came by tapping in, by donating time or money, or by taking steps to make a difference close to home and around the world. (Remember--I'm still working toward that 50 for Good new garden goal!)

There are lots of things I've come to accept during the journey:

* I accept that I live in a particular time in history. * I accept that I currently live in a particular place in a particular country. * I accept that finding and affording "perfect solutions" is challenging and not always possible. * I accept that doing the best I can under the circumstances is sometimes enough. * I accept that sometimes actions serve no other real purpose than to be symbolic, because children are watching and learning and one day may be capable of making a real, not symbolic, impact. * I accept that everyone has a different path and pace on the journey, and everyone is deserving of respect. * I accept that many people want to be divisive and to stereotype and discount others, rather than truly listen, share, and learn together. * I accept a positive, joy-based journey for myself and those who join me on the journey, without negative energy to distract and divide.

Mostly, I accept that time is a non-renewable resource, that today is a gift, and that I have a job to do as part of my distinct calling in life. That job is changing, and I am changing with it. This summer-of-transition (yes, school has ended here) will put me in a very different spot when school starts again (in August here), with one daughter away at college and the other at a very small arts high school about 15 miles away from our home. Everything about my daily life will be different*, and I am through-the-roof excited about it. There is so much more to see, learn, experience, and of course, share with you here on our FoodShed Planet. (For instance, I passed a glass blower's studio on my new route the other day. He gives lessons . . . And did you know about corporate "natural resources accounting"? And I may have found a much more sustainable alternative to TOMS Shoes! And, of course, there's still that trip to Portugal and the whole cork thing.)

I'm thinking of taking a little break here. I'm not sure how long it will last (probably not long), but I'll see you on the other side. We have much to do and learn together yet, and many new people to meet.

If you are interested in any particular topic relating to triple-bottom-line sustainability, there's a very strong chance I've written about it. See here.

Here are the top ten posts (out of 975) on FoodShed Planet, based on number of page views:

1. Loony Bin Organic Milk Momma

2. Washing My Hands of Triclosan

3. Some Part of Me Felt Like I Had Found My Way Home (or What Happened at the Southface Eco-Office Dedication Ceremony)

4. If This Isn't Another Reason to Increase Organic Acreage, I Don't Know What Is

5. The Exciting Return of Open Garden (and How a Middle School Got a School Garden in Less than Two Weeks)

6. Urban Gleaning

7. 1 Pear Tree.1 Hour. 567 Pounds for Those in Need. Have a Nice Day.

8. Paying It Forward

9. Real Work to Grow Real Food that Makes a Real Difference

10. DeKalb County, Georgia, USA, Joins Other School Districts Nationwide That Are Restoring Children's Right to Recess

Here's one of my personal favorite ones ever.

And here's one I'm constantly tempted to take down. Yet I like a saying that goes, "There will be a day I cannot do this anymore. Today is not that day." If I can still sing and dance anywhere (including on Atlanta's mass transit system), I'm doing it. Proudly.

Because Children Don't Wait. They Grow Up.

2013-05-23T07:46:00.002-04:00

"Time makes you bolder. Even children grow older. And I'm getting older, too." Graduating high school seniors sang those lines from the song Landslide at a ceremony the other day and it reminded me of the following article, which I was asked to write awhile ago for Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution site, titled Because Children Don't Wait. They Grow Up.

Remember: kids grow up fast. Don't wait. Dig in this summer. And see what grows (food, minds, hearts, imagination, dignity, hope . . .)
_____

I trotted outside yet again yesterday, with a colander under one arm and a pair of scissors in my hand. I picked food for my family, as I have been doing for ten years now, since my daughters were six and one years old.

On September 12, 2001, the day after the terrorist attacks on the United States, I went to my local supermarket to stock up on food supplies "just in case," and it occurred to me, right there in aisle eight, that if terrorists "hit" our national food supply, frankly, we were all pretty much doomed. I honestly did not know how I would provide for my children, and I decided that, if nothing else in this chaotic world, I would learn how to grow food. Now, they are 16 and 11 years old, and they have grown up on food from their backyard. And side yard. And front yard. (UPDATE: They are now 18 and 13.)

Wait, let me back up. At first I waited for our government to encourage Americans to take the simple step of planting a seed to increase personal and national security, such as in Victory Garden days. I waited for the schools to jump on board. I waited for my neighborhood to rally around collective self-preservation. I'd still be waiting today if waiting was my only choice, but it wasn't.

By January of 2002, I stopped waiting.

I started our home garden. I joined a CSA for a weekly farm box delivery. I started going to farmers markets. I visited small, local, organic farms. I changed the focus of my writing business to concentrate on issues relating to environmental, economic, and social sustainability and wrote articles for various publications as well as a blog named FoodShed Planet. I learned basic knowledge that has skipped not one but two generations, and the shocking information about what has gone wrong with our food system in just my lifetime. I tried to change my children's school lunch offerings, and then opted out when I saw that change would be long and slow and that my time (a non-renewable resource) would be more constructively spent elsewhere. I got involved and was appointed to lead the sustainability commission when my community became the newest city in the United States three years ago. I helped start or rejuvenate a number of community gardens specifically to feed those in need of food, community and knowledge. And finally, I wrote a book to share what I've learned, titled Food for My Daughters: what one mom did when the towers fell (and what you can do, too), which was released just two weeks before the ten-year anniversary of 9/11.

Most importantly, I raised my daughters on good, clean, healthy food and the knowledge that we, as individuals, can take actions that make a difference. And now, I offer other parents this advice:

1. Vote with your dollar. Just say no to processed foods that contain additives you don't want in your diet, or whose labels are not clear. Buy real, whole, non-toxic foods.

2. Get involved. Read about food labeling issues. Write letters to your government representatives. Do research. Talk to friends and neighbors. Find out everything you can so that you can make informed decisions, and help change the system. Your voice and choice may be the tipping point.

3. Support farmers whose growing philosophy you share (include urban farmers and community gardeners who are blazing new trails for your local food security), plus grow your own food. Grow awareness. Grow community. Grow knowledge. Grow as a parent, and as a person. Grow the security for our future by instilling these habits in your children. Advocate to remove barriers to this empowerment at your local City Hall (because even if nothing comes of it, "little eyes are watching" and they are learning more than you can imagine from the shenanigans they are witnessing).

Yes, we need people to work on systemic change. However, there are many small and seemingly inconsequential actions we can take that don't require us as parents to seek permission from governments or school administrators to do what we know in our hearts is the right thing for our children. I, for one, am glad I stopped waiting. Because children don't wait. They grow up.

About the author: Pattie Baker is a professional writer specializing in sustainability and a volunteer urban farmer who grows food, knowledge, and community for those in need. She blogs at www.foodshedplanet.com and was profiled in the November 2011 issue of O: The Oprah Magazine (page 165, "The Farmer"). A native New Yorker, she lives in metro Atlanta with her husband and two daughters, who keep helping her "learn as she grows." Her book Food for My Daughters is available in all global markets on Amazon, and on Powell Books, Barnes and Noble, and Better World Books' sites.

Related post: See Roots and Wings

How to Choose City Leaders for Our Changing World

2013-05-22T06:38:00.002-04:00

As local candidates start to announce they are running for office here in my metro-Atlanta city (which had been the newest city in the United States until just recently, and which turns five years old this year), I've been thinking about what I vote for in a leader. This clarity for me is important, as I've come to realize how much power local leaders have to not only make rules but to also remove barriers as I try to live a more resilient life. These are the attributes for which I am now looking regarding leaders. Give this some thought where you live, too.

Open-mindedness and knowledge about what's happening elsewhere, and how we fit into our metro area and our larger world.

An articulated vision and observable actions that support increased local resiliency both individually and collectively.

Protection of the commons we share: air, water, and land, and an educated awareness of our limited resources and our responsibility to future generations.

Commitment to ease of use for transportation options such as walking and biking.

Desire to support up-to-date public safety and a comprehensive, clearly-communicated emergency preparedness plan*.

Understanding of the importance of toxin-free green space (not just "open space") and publicly-accessible recreation options (not costly pay-to-play private partnerships) for the health and development of children.

Commitment to creating a road map to energy independence.

Support for our ability to grow, make, market, and access fresh, local food for ourselves, our families, and our community.

Robust encouragement of a vibrant local business community so that more money is kept circulating in the local economy.

Consideration for the most vulnerable among us, and to be treated with dignity, no matter what our life stage or circumstance.

Understanding that the definition of what constitutes a "family" is evolving (away from "blood relationships"), and how it is important to reflect this in "single-family residence" zoning definitions.

Advocacy for forward-thinking technology tools for having our voices heard and reflected in decisions made.

Embrace of innovation and creativity, and a willingness to take a joy-based, trusting leap into the unknown every now and then.

Commitment to transparency in government, and frequent, reliable communications.

Kindness.

* This hasn't yet happened where I live in a way that citizens can simply understand and communicate with their loved ones. See A Story with a Twist (and a Plea for a Plan) from January 2013 and Let's Not Monkey Around with Preparedness from April 2009.

A Prayer That the Sun Will One Day Shine Again

2013-05-21T06:35:00.001-04:00

There are very few words on a day like this, after yet another devastating storm in my country. Yet, at the community garden near me, sunflowers are about to bloom, and it is my hope and prayer that the sun will one day shine again on the lives of all those affected.

If you are looking for some small way to help the world today, simply plant a seed of good.

Previous storm-related/local emergency preparedness posts include:
A Story with a Twist (and a Plea for a Plan)
I Got Cash. I Packed Almonds.
Wringing My Hands with a Worry I Never Had Before
Silence This Week Out of Respect to Japan
Let's Not Monkey Around with Preparedness

"The Onion Marketing Plan" (My Free Gift to Businesses Small and Large)

2013-05-19T08:02:00.001-04:00

Tired of getting 50-page marketing documents from expensive agencies that require two hour meetings filled with PowerPoint presentations to understand, and that then never get implemented?

Lost your marketing staff or agency due to the economic downturn but still need professional communications efforts that give you as much bang for the buck as possible?

I'm giving you a gift today--a simple marketing strategy that you'll be able to "get" in about twelve seconds. For free.

I call it my Onion Marketing Plan, and it looks like this (pictured above). Rings of an onion on a plate, with ways you can harness the power of various customer touchpoints (starting with local and moving outward to global) in a strategic, integrated way. That's it in its entirety.

I use a local gardening center as a sample. I could do yours as well. I can also write the content needed to populate all these bullets (see links to the enormous amount of content I wrote for that garden center during a six-month relationship here), so you don't get left hanging with ideas that never see the light of day.

I can bill you by the hour or by the project. My rates have remained exactly the same for 17 years. You get a discount for being a B-Corp or non-profit, or if you contract with me for 10 hours a week or more. And you get the benefit of my boatload of corporate experience from before I went rogue and started my business (named Fresh Baked Copy; I now go by Sustainable Pattie) after I got sick of dropping off my infant at daycare at 7 AM and picking her up almost 12 hours later. (That baby graduates from high school this week. See "Roots and Wings" here.)

My office is currently based in the metro-Atlanta city of Dunwoody, which is in the area called home to the largest concentration of Fortune 500 companies in the southeastern United States. I will be spending enormous amounts of time in the Decatur area as well, starting in August. You can be located anywhere in the United States. I have had many clients whom I have never met in person, and that seems to work just fine (although you know how I love a "work walk"). It's truly that simple. Let's talk.

Want to start small? Every business needs customer/client success stories and I've written over 100 of them for Cox Enterprises' Kudzu.com, an online search tool for finding local service companies recommended by your friends and neighbors. I research, interview, and write the stories in a way that moves your target audience to action. These testimonial success stories can be used by your sales staff and on your website. They are about as powerful a marketing tool as you can create. And you can't put a junior writer on it. You need someone with the experience to see the big picture, who can get the job done efficiently and effectively, and has the ability to connect with people at all levels in a wide range of industries. And you need someone who truly loves to tell people's unique stories. Like me.

As a result of the intensity and depth of some of these conversations, I uncover powerful overarching themes in your client experiences (such as that Kudzu has literally saved more small businesses than you can imagine and given many business owners back not just their livelihoods but their lives, while boosting the economic sustainability of communities) that can be used to more fully inform your marketing messaging. Here's an example of the kinds of quotes I've gotten for Kudzu (this one is from about two weeks ago):

"In 2006, I lost my job, my house, everything, and I was even homeless for awhile," Jackson explained. "I started Evolution Bikes in 2006 with practically no money. The reviews on Kudzu helped me build my business, and now our expanded online presence brings in a steady stream of customers every single day. I recently doubled my store's size due to our business growth, and I started taking Sundays off for the first time in seven years. I see my family now, I can take a vacation if I want, and I have some job security. There is no price I can put on that."

See that full story, and more, here, under "categories" on the right hand side in that link. And think about what the power of real-life customer stories can do for your business. June is almost all spoken for already (assignments for articles like this one, plus an investigative journalism trip to the cork oak forests and factories of Portugal: see my Talking Cork with Pattie Baker series), but I have some bandwidth in July, and I would be honored to serve your business.

Learning as I grow,

Pattie Baker

Member, Metro Atlanta Chamber
sustainablepattie@comcast.net

Happiness Is . . .

2013-05-17T17:09:00.002-04:00

Happiness is a friend who brings you a brown paper shopping bag filled with handfuls and handfuls of zinnia seeds.

I love zinnias. The butterflies adore them, and they bloom forever and are beautiful in cut flower and herb arrangements.

After spending five hours to clear spaces for them in the gardens all around my house, there is a slight chance I overplanted. If that's even possible.

Thanks, Tracy (also known as Lady of the Lettuce).

I'm ready for rain now, please.

Turning Negative Space into Positive

2013-05-17T06:34:00.000-04:00

So I'm at the food pantry garden the other day and a bunch of people from the Atlanta Community Food Bank are there, observing how things are done inside and out to see what can be applied elsewhere. I get to talking with one of them in detail in the garden while clients are building things all around me. I show him around and tell him what we're currently doing is turning space that isn't being used into something usable. In short, we're turning negative space into positive.

I show him the Americans with Disabilities (ADA)-accessible bed that will have vines growing across the top and sides and will be reachable from both a wheelchair on the sidewalk and from a standing position for those who can't bend.

I show him the Edible Bus Stop and tell him how that will be a pilot model of what's possible with very little money and a little ingenuity, and can be replicated in apartment complexes or at bus stops or even on the Atlanta Beltline as little rest stops. (And lest you think I'm crazy, there is not only an Edible Bus Stop in London but an entire Edible Bus Route in the works!) Bean, gourd, sunflower and cucumber seeds are all planted at the base of each pole. Plus, a man from an inner city said to me, "A flowering vine would be nice," and so I tossed in morning glory seeds yesterday. We're still tinkering with it--artsy design elements yet to come. We'll also be adding a bench made out of old pallets, a Little Free Library, and perhaps two lemon trees, if they magically appear from some garden angel! (Hint, hint.) I think lemon trees will make people smile, plus the heat has finally arrived, and I, personally, am ready for some lemonade. (Here's how to make homemade lemonade, in case you've never done this.)

I show him the 25-foot row that is completely caged, trellised, and housing tomatoes, potatoes, arugula, and lettuce. It is ready for beans, cucumbers, and more, to climb all over it, plus melons and winter squashes have room to sprawl on the recently-wood-chipped extension behind it. A man was tenderly tying tomato plants to bamboo stakes while we talked.

I share how all these bamboo contraptions will not only take advantage of vertical space and unused ground space, but they also showcase construction skills and attributes of creativity, collaboration, and continuity as different hands join in each week and add their unique gifts to the process.

Bunnies nibble only the clover, which we planted for them

It's all also fun, and fun matters (time to drag out Lady of the Lettuce again!). In fact, we're talking about building a stage out of pallets so clients can share their musical talents and the garden can be alive in yet more ways. This all matters for the long-term sustainability of this garden. Many hearts caring for it will make a difference when I step away in August, and providing as many points of entry into the experience is a way to throw a big, wide net and ensure that all feel welcome and at home. (Even the bunnies are welcome, who confine their nibbling to the clover we planted specifically for them.)

We've planted all these seeds, so now we water and we wait to see what grows. The clients come out to check on things, to see how their work has developed, to offer help. I stopped by to water on Monday and a man I had never even seen out there helping us appeared.

"It was my day off, and I thought I'd just come by and see how I might be needed." he told me. "I weeded a little, and added more dirt around the fruit trees." (Read about the orchard here.)

Turning negative space into positive. Give that some thought today. When something first appears to be negative space, in all its metaphoric ways, ask yourself, "What can I grow here? How can I make this positive?"

Watermelon Week 2013: Who's In? (Only 2 Spots Still Open) UPDATE

2013-05-16T06:37:00.000-04:00

I see on my metro newspaper's website a recap (so to speak) of all the college graduation ceremonies in Georgia, with a slide show of speakers. It reminds me of one of the best commencement speeches I've ever heard, delivered by someone who lives in Atlanta whom I am honored to know. Here is Luma Mufleh's excellent speech at Mills College last year. It is worth the 20 minutes to find out about the fortitude, vision, and passion that helped this woman trust her journey and start the only school in the United States dedicated to refugee-children-of-war. They come from something like 30 different countries. They live 13 miles away from me. I've written about them a lot.

Once you know more about Luma and what she does (and why), you might be more inclined to want to join me in the third annual Watermelon Week effort. The students of the Fugees Academy have a summer camp, held at Agnes Scott College in Decatur, GA, where the focus is on academics and the arts. They play soccer two afternoons a week, and they have the watermelons afterwards. A volunteer from our Watermelon Week effort delivers 12 watermelons on his or her assigned Monday to Agnes Scott (the camp runs June 17-July 20, with the week of July 4 off) where an AmeriCorps volunteer and the kids themselves take them from your arms. That's it. Two people have already volunteered--my friends Rebecca and Bob (Bob writes about the Fugees a lot, too), who do it each year. Two more are needed within 24 hours so I can assure Luma this is one less thing about which she needs to worry. Who's in? Email me here or leave a comment below. Thank you! (For those elsewhere on our FoodShed Planet, touch base with summer camps for those in need near you. I'm sure they need your help somehow. Perhaps you can start a Watermelon Week effort near you!)

Here is the account of Watermelon Week from two years ago, to flesh it out a bit for you:

The Lesson of the Watermelons, 2011

Watermelons seem to teach me big lessons every year, and this year was no exception. In fact, I believe that perhaps this year I learned the biggest lesson of all.

I parked by the bus, the same way my younger daughter and I did several weeks earlier when we delivered the watermelons. Donating ten watermelons a week each week of summer camp for the Fugees Family refugee children was not a hard thing to do, with five other friends of mine helping, each taking a week, just like we did last year. It was a small, small thing that made me feel at least a little bit involved with efforts started by the truly awe-inspiring Luma Mufleh to provide life-changing opportunities of refugee children of war, until one day when I could do more. Until one day when I figured out what that "more" might be.

My daughters came with me. In fact, my older daughter came with me to almost every social sustainability outreach effort in which I participated this week. She is suddenly more interested, having just taken a course on global politics and social justice. She harvested with me for the food pantry for the first time. She came to our second pear gleaning. And she was particularly interested in attending the Fugees Family Summer Showcase. After so many instances in the last year or two when it was clear I needed to let her go (see here and here), the earth stopped rotating for just one millisecond when I realized she was already coming back to me. There is no greater, more unexpected gift I could have gotten this week.

Except, perhaps, for what happened next.

After viewing and participating in fun, impressive, interactive projects that the Fugees campers displayed (since these children are often far behind their classmates in public school, a large portion on their summer was spent learning, in creative, hands-on ways that represent best practices of education anywhere), one of the boys escorted my daughters and me to another building, where a presentation was about to occur. As we were walking and talking (he came from East Africa, he had been here a year, he had a large family, he learned English from the Fugees and TV, that kind of thing), I asked him what was his favorite part of summer camp.

He said, "Every Tuesday and Thursday, we play soccer. And after soccer, we get to have watermelons." He didn't know I had helped deliver them. I didn't say anything because it wasn't necessary, and also because I couldn't--he had taken my breath away. Minutes later, when I sat down in the audience and glanced at the handout we had been given, I saw a short list of acknowledgements, and every one of us who delivered the watermelons was on it. Bob. Rebecca. Page. Susan. Karen. (And Ashley had been the backup.) I literally gasped. My older daughter glanced over to see what happened, and I pointed to the program.

"I can't believe we were honored like that. It was so, so small what we did," I whispered. But all the way home, this nagged at me. Maybe it wasn't so small. But it was. Okay, well, maybe, just maybe, small matters.

UPDATE (May 17): We're all set. All four dates are taken. Thank you!

June 17--Bob
June 24--Susan
July 8--Rebecca
July 15--me

Cork=Good, But Easier Said Than Done

2013-05-15T10:20:00.001-04:00

So I'm cutting bottles (yet again) as I'm thinking of how the barrage of news and information far away and close to home just never ends. Syrian atrocities. The Boston bombing. The three women who were held captive and tortured for ten solid years in Cleveland. A threat at my older daughter's school that had Homeland Security involved. A shoot-out by the only book store left in my city. Angelina Jolie's proactive double mastectomy, for goodness sake.

I usually "plant seeds, make bread" when my brain overflows with all the bad in the world, and I wonder: if more people did that, frankly, wouldn't the world be a beautiful, well-fed place? I'm a "keep it simple, keep it real" kind of person, but sometimes keeping it simple and real is just not so easy.

I give you this intro as a brief peek at where my head was prior to my hour-and-a-half conversation yesterday with Patrick Spencer*, the director of the Cork Forest Conservation Alliance. I'm going with Patrick and others on an investigative journalism trip to the cork forests and factories of Portugal in a month, and I've been researching and writing about the issues involved in my "Talking Cork with Pattie Baker" series (see below for the rest of this series, which is now complete). Please note that I am a completely independent freelance journalist and marketing professional (this blog gets 35,000 page views a month, plus see my portfolio here) who has not been paid a penny by anyone for the many hours spent researching and writing about this topic, as well as amplifying it via social media, to date. Time is a non-renewable resource, and this is one of the passion projects on which I've been spending it. And, just like with every other story here on FoodShed Planet, you can be certain always that you are getting the entire, honest truth, to the best of my understanding.

So here's my understanding to date. "Mistakes were made" (let's just put it that way), and the cork industry lost trust, innovation moved in, cork sales continue to drop as winemakers choose alternative closures (mainly screwcaps), truly colossal cork marketing missteps happened that were completely off-target, but ultimately the cork industry cleaned up its act and has made phenomenal progress, but perhaps too late. Misinformation persists**. Transparent consumer information does not exist, and the forests are now in peril because it's becoming less and less economically feasible to continue to harvest them as fewer corks are sold. That's it in an (acorn***) nutshell.

Okay, so let me cut to the chase for you. Here is my over-arching conclusion. Cork=good, and the cork oak forests are worth saving. At this point, I'm pretty much convinced of this.

Yet, I'm still wrestling a bit. If I admit "closures" are something about which I now need to be concerned, do I now need to wonder about the top of my milk, juice and every other thing in my refrigerator? Of course, the answer is probably yes, but frankly, enough already. One woman alone in her kitchen cannot be responsible to save the world by boycotting every aluminum item that came from an earth-destroying bauxite mine, or piece of plastic destined to join the Great Pacific Garbage Dump for ever and ever! (And having just read Moby Duck, I know the impact of this.)

There are so many other considerations with every purchase I make--the contents of each container, for instance. What are the ingredients, how were they grown, and how were they processed? This matters to me most, and trying to find transparent information about that has been hard enough. And then some passing brain cell of mine wonders about the glass (is it really being recycled? I heard the market dropped off on that and glass is going to landfills, despite the time I waste washing stuff out) or plastic (and how much does it leach, and when only exposed to sun or always?), the water use, the travel distance, the company's policies. Yet more hard-to-find information. Now I need to add closures to an already long list, most of the answers about which I cannot easily and transparently attain? The desire to turn and run is great. But let's not. Stay with me here. I always promise you a joy-based journey, and I'm not going to let you down here--I'm going to offer a game-plan toward solutions.

Let's say I agree, okay, I'll only buy wine with natural cork (and I now do agree with this, and I do want to do this). Here's what happens:

* I go to the store. I see the screwcap ones and I don't give them a second glance (although they are everywhere). I purchase one that looks like it has a whole natural cork.

* Once purchased, brought home, and opened, I'm just as likely to discover a plastic cork or an agglomerated one made of natural cork bits held together by glue (food grade, but I'd rather skip this). There is absolutely no current way to know while at the store (although apps like this just-announced one hold promise).

Patrick's organization offers a free "real cork inside" logo to winemakers so that consumers can have this piece of information to make more informed purchase decisions. This, I like, but no bottle carries it right now. I asked if there is a list of the most commonly-available wines with real cork inside, and there is not. I asked if somehow the public can be alerted when wineries are about to switch from real cork to screwcaps so that consumers can ask them not to, and this is currently not possible. So what is a woman like me to do? (And may I remind you, women currently have the power to make or break the cork oak forests.)

Here's how I think we save the world this time:

1. Food/Wine Industry Support. Winemakers who claim to support sustainable practices make a five-year commitment to natural cork (requiring agreed-upon quality standards and costs) for at least part of their production line so that the cork industry can at least know they have a viable market while undergoing any needed transition. Restaurants, retail stores, and other places where wine is sold can make a similar commitment regarding what they recommend and sell.

2. Cork Industry Improvement/Product Line Expansion. The cork industry uses this five-year window to continually improve cork stoppers and to develop additional products or innovative uses for cork that have the potential to replace wine stoppers, if the market ultimately demands that.

3. Transparent Consumer Information. Consumers are provided with transparent, easy-to-find information regarding "real cork inside" so that they can make informed purchase decisions when they vote with their dollars. See this recent report re: global consumer preference for transparency.

4. More Targeted Marketing. Marketing efforts target the real purchasing decision makers--women--and showcase research-driven psychographic information regarding general criteria used by women when voting with their dollars, and specifics about how and why they buy and consume wine.****

5. Sustainable Innovation. Companies competitive with the cork industry agree to focus solely on sustainable methods and materials for non-cork bottle stopper innovation. Surely something cool and effective is possible that doesn't harm the world. This is not the time in history to be creating new solutions that use irresponsible practices.

Patrick says saving the cork oak forests is easier than separating your recycling, and is a definite "feel good" action rather than a feel bad one. You just buy wine with a cork. Cheers.

Currently, however, that's easier said than done.

Note: This is the last post I am writing in this series. The next time you hear about cork from me will be in an article I write for a print or online publication (like this one, which just came out this week and is available both in hard copy and online) or in a blog post after I return from my trip to Portugal. Stay tuned!

* Which, by the way, consists of a man alone in his attic for the last five years (when not out delivering speeches) who, after being a chef, restaurateur, musician traveling the world, and brand/sustainability head at a major winery, started and runs this non-profit without ever taking a penny of salary. This is undeniably Patrick Spencer's passion project and his life's work. He has succeeded in diverting 14 million corks from landfills in 2012 through a recycling program at Whole Foods and other locations nationwide, and his conservation organization is about to be named a consultative partner to the United Nations due to the importance to our world of preserving the cork oak forest ecosystem.

** Most people don't know that cork trees are not cut down to harvest cork. In fact, harvesting them (every nine years for a couple of centuries) causes the cork trees to sequester 3-5 times as much carbon dioxide as they already sequester as the bark regrows. Cork is a completely renewable and sustainable product, and there has never been a shortage of it (a blight 17 years ago affected only 1% of trees). Cork oak forests serve a major environmental purpose on our globe for this reason and for the incredible biodiversity they support. Plus, they stop desertification, reduce forest fires (cork is resistant to fire), and support many local economies (that means people). Once they're gone, they're gone.

*** Cork oak trees produce acorns. Pigs eat them. It enhances the flavor of their meat, apparently.

**** Hint: something like 90% of wine is consumed within a year, with most of that consumed within 48 hours of purchase. Wine is increasingly becoming an "everyday" beverage rather than a special occasion beverage, and references to the "romance of wine" requiring a guy to pop your cork--so to speak--are increasingly antiquated. A majority of wine purchasers are women, and women overwhelming consider the environmental impact of their purchases when they vote with their dollars. I don't usually play the "gender card," but when it comes to consumer purchasing power, it's appropriate. Men are now the smaller niche market, not the main market. My friend Kat Gordon helps companies get a larger share of market dollars by recognizing these realities and reflecting them in their marketing efforts. It makes smart business sense.

See the rest of the "Talking Cork with Pattie Baker" series here:

1. "Bark to Bottle" (and How Cork Oak Forests are Getting Screwed)
2. A Turning Point in History for Cork Oak Forests--and I Will Bear Witness
3. "Dognitive" Dissonance
4. A "Gourd"geous Water Bottle, and More from My "Cork Series"
5. Some Surprising Discoveries about Women, Power, and Cork
6. The Top 10 Things to Know about Cork (to Be as Fun on a Walk as I Am)
7. "Aglet Face," and the Cold, Harsh Truth, Courtesy of Yoda