FoodShed Planet

Happiness Is . . .

2013-05-09T20:05:00.003-04:00

Happiness is . . . checking the mail and harvesting carrots! If you think you have nowhere to have a garden, take a look around your mailbox. It's often a good, sunny spot. And your mail carrier will enjoy the towering cherry tomatoes come summer.

Here's a little "mailbox garden" post to get you growing.

And if you don't think harvesting carrots are fun, you haven't seen my friend, Caryn* do it!

Caryn Cohen Harvests Carrots from Pattie Baker on Vimeo.

* Caryn (of Just Follow the Pretty White Line fame) and her family have spent the last year in Seattle (see Seattle's Gain Is Atlanta's Loss) and are returning to Atlanta soon to live. I've missed you, Caryn! And carrots always make me think of you!

"Blessed and Released"

2013-05-09T06:42:00.002-04:00

I had been worried. I'm leaving the food pantry garden August 1 as it is time. It has been three years (here's a fun post about how it started) and I know that for that garden to be truly sustainable, I need to step away and let it evolve in the way that will make most sense for it long-term. This is the very hardest stage of a start-up project that there is for me. My heart breaks, yet I know it's necessary. I don't do it until I feel truly called to continue on my journey, and the indisputable sound of that calling has gotten thunderous in my heart. I recognize it. I've heard it before. I have learned that these callings become clear, in due time, when I trust them, and that it also becomes clear that if I don't get out of the way, I'm blocking someone else's journey. Who that person is is often a mystery for awhile, and that's where the leap of faith is needed.

However, I also know that "if you fail to plan, you plan to fail," and there are ways to leave responsibly. One look around and I can find scores of examples of abandoned or struggling gardens (I've chosen not to show those pictures). It only takes one missed planting season for a downward spiral to start. And so I had been worrying. Constantly.

Our remarkable volunteer team at the food pantry garden will do anything at any time that's needed, but they are getting busier in the rest of their lives and there is a lot of planning and sourcing of materials to do. This is necessary almost continually in order to have harvests year-round and real things for folks to do to help when they come to be truly "necessary" (which I now believe is one of the most basic human needs). I think someone is needed with organic growing knowledge, a wide network upon which to draw, and time and willingness to plan and execute. I even wrote up this simplified Year at a Glance for New Gardeners last August when the stirrings started, followed up by Growing for--and with--Those in Need, Made Easy this past December. It has been brewing.

"The solution is in the problem," or so I've been told, so I kept thinking about the problem: the desire to create a constantly-abundant (there's no "off season" when growing for those in need), low-maintenance, low-cost garden that is not reliant on the same people all the time to be sustainable. We already have the fruit orchard. Why not convert all raised beds to perennial herbs (which are surprisingly popular at food pantries) and all rows to Hugelkultur? The folks love when we give out plants for their home gardens. Why not just offer herbs and a small selection of easy-to-grow crops (onions, hot peppers, sweet potatoes, lettuce heads), plus a nice place to relax under the fruit trees, and hand out seeds and transplants several time a year? Wouldn't that be significantly simpler?

Anyway, so I show up yesterday and Mary Louise, the co-leader of the food pantry, pulls me aside and says in her open and loving voice, "You are blessed and released." She says this is something they say to volunteers when that volunteer indicates it is time to move on. "We will take on the garden," she added. "It will work out. It will be fine."

I could feel the relief spread through my body. She really meant it. She "heard" me and understood how concerned I was. She felt my heart breaking, and she freed me. What an extraordinary gift to give to someone! Keep that in mind when things change for your volunteers on your projects. Bless and release them. Keep that in mind when your relationships change, when your clients change, when anything changes. It is so, so simple and yet so full a sentiment.

And so I went back into the garden and simply focused on "finding my place" for the day. I didn't really help when the sea of people came out to take home gorgeous free tomato plants donated by two community gardens as well as one of our volunteers. I didn't really help much with the harvest. I hung out at the Edible Bus Shelter prototype we're building with two guys who needed to build, too. I dug holes in which a boy planted seeds for beans and gourds and sunflowers. And we talked. About our journeys. About our acceptance of them. About how nice it felt to be standing out there together building.

To get involved with this food pantry garden, show up on Wednesdays or contact Malachi's Storehouse. Tell Mary Louise and Kathy you heard you might be needed. For others around our Foodshed Planet, hear and heed your calling. Someone is stepping out and making room for you somewhere right now. Just show up and see what happens.

Happy Bike to School Day, Unless This Happens UPDATED!

2013-05-08T06:29:00.003-04:00

Photo taken this week

Today is National Bike to School Day. Of course, let's hope you don't live in a city where kids face this every single day somewhere, as they do in my city*. Parking on the sidewalk is explicitly not allowed, according to my city's ordinances**, yet that doesn't seem to matter. I bring this up over and over again, yet it never changes. For years, I specifically would not let my younger daughter ride her bike alone because I knew she would face this somewhere (as do those pushing strollers and those in wheelchairs) and I didn't want her having to pass in the street (an average of 21 cars pass without stopping in my city when a child is standing in a crosswalk, so I have reason to be concerned about safety around drivers).

Several city councilor seats in my city are up for grabs this fall. I will not even consider voting for someone if he or she hasn't done this.

* Think I'm exaggerating? I have dozens of examples. Here are two:

Here is video from our ride during the last week of school one year:

Vehicles Parked on Sidewalks Impede Walking/Biking to School from Pattie Baker on Vimeo.

Here is my daughter trying to ride her bike to camp, on two separate occasions:

See related posts:
The Year the Lights Came On

Have You Walked a Mile with a Child? (and Other Questions about Bike/Walk-Friendly Greenwashing)

Hallelujeh (or What Biking to School Just Might
Have You and Your Children Singing)

First You Gotta' Do This as a Kid

** I hope our ordinances mean something when my city's zoning rewrite is completed shortly. If we are truly not in support of making this a bike-friendly city, then let's slay that sacred cow and stop talking out of both sides of our mouth. But if we are serious, let's be consistent, please.

The truck on top is parked right beyond the trees near the woman with the stroller

UPDATE: May 9, 2013
Bravo to my city! I just went to the post office and saw a truck belonging to some workers doing something for the City of Dunwoody. It was parked NOT on the sidewalk (as is typical) but on the grass next to it, completely off the sidewalk. In the minute or two I stopped and watched, I saw five joggers and a woman with a double-wide stroller pass by safely on the sidewalk.

Be Sure to Eat Your Leafy Green

2013-05-08T05:42:00.002-04:00

My gosh, mustard leaves can get huge! (Too bad no one in my house likes them--they'll get donated today.) For perspective, here is the uncropped shot, showing the size of my feet (in my beloved Kigos, which are so going to Portugal) for comparison.

And Then There's the Guy From Bonny Doon . . .

2013-05-07T16:52:00.002-04:00

So I'm doing my usual Sunday night thing, reading the New York Times and sipping a glass of wine, this time a screw cap one from Bonny Doon Vineyards (or so I thought--apparently the cheapo end of the Bonny Doon line got sold off six years ago). I finish reading about that artist taking people's pictures in Times Square and printing them out as posters for them to paste on the ground (an oddly fascinating story), and I open up the still-page-turning book To Cork or Not to Cork. The very first page I read is all about . . . Randall Grahm of Bonny Doon Vineyards! Talk about kismet!

Randall Grahm is the winemaker who held that Funeral for the Cork in Grand Central Station back in 2001 when he switched over most of his wines to screw cap closures. You can see the exact pages about this from the book I was reading here.

So I tweet something about what a coincidence this is, Randall tweets back, an artisanal winemaker in Sonoma named John Kelly of Westwood Winery chimes in, and the next thing you know I'm interviewing both of them. Such is the sudden turns in life here at the bottom of a hill in suburbia.

The long and short of it is this. Randall thinks screw caps are pretty much the cat's meow for making a wine with a slower evolution. He says, "I truly love the traditional aesthetic of cork. My feeling, however, is that screw caps will enable most wines to achieve a greater potential in longevity, hence complexity."

He has been using screw caps for over ten years now and he says that "I didn't get to the downside of screw caps yet." And it's not even avoiding the dreaded cork taint that motivates Randall ("I believe cork taint has been solved," he says). It's that "it's trying to make the best wine I can." And with his Rhone grapes (he's been called "The Rhone Ranger"), he believes that's with screw caps. There was much discussion that made me realize I didn't know my sulfides from my sulfates (and frankly, I'm pretty fuzzy about sulfur in general), which sent me straight to my Elements book as soon as I got off the phone. I have soooooo much to learn.

And then there's John. John believes in being a true steward of the land. He likes human-scale, hand-crafted wine-making that truly shows the originality of each bottle. He is not looking for uniformity. He believes a great wine shows a positive evolution of flavor and aroma for years after bottling, and that cork actually plays a distinct role in this evolution, possibly even being the catalyst for some of it. (Read John's thoughts about cork, synthetic stoppers, and screw caps here.)

John believes that the cork industry has done a great job of regaining the trust they lost back in the 1980s and 90s when demand exploded and quality got compromised, thereby flooding the market with poor performing corks with a high incidence of the dreaded cork taint. He personally does hands-on testing of cork batches before buying them, and claims about a .5% cork taint rate or maybe even less, which he finds completely acceptable. "We open about 15-20 bottles a day in our tasting room, and we haven't had a bottle with cork taint all year," he told me.

John agreed when I asked him if it's pretty much a philosophical choice whether you choose screw caps or cork. He added that winemakers need to decide what they want to make, and what they value. He also added, that, environmentally speaking, cork wins, without question. (He also gave me this tip about using old corks as compostable mulch in my garden, which I did within minutes of getting off the phone, as pictured here in my front yard; of course, I had to pick out the plastic ones first.)

Patrick Spencer would agree with that, not just philosophically but with scientific support. For those of you who are on the edges of your seats following my cork series, you'll remember that Patrick is the executive director of the Cork Forest Conservation Alliance (CFCA). Patrick says:

As a forest conservation organization, the CFCA's position, regarding wine bottle closures, is based solely on the environmental impact of each closure. Our cork forest conservation efforts are not enhanced by discussing wine quality, as it relates to closures. We prefer to let the wine makers, critics and enthusiasts debate that. What we are willing to discuss are the environmental impacts of each closure, with facts that are not open to conjecture, wine making styles, or the palate of a wine maker, critic or consumer.

The raw facts remain, screw caps and plastic plugs are not sustainably sourced, add significant amounts of CO2, (from manufacturing) to our planets atmosphere, leave behind considerable amounts of toxic by-products, (from manufacturing) are not easily recycled, (approximately 96% end up in landfills or oceans) and neither is biodegradable or compostable. These facts are irrefutable.

But does the American buying public care? That's still the question, isn't it?

I have pages and pages of notes to myself about things I need to research--everything from the negative environmental impact of Bauxite mines on populations in developing countries to what exactly is Dow Chemicals' Saranex layered plastic film that lines screw caps* (and do I want that near something I'm consuming?) to what does a corked wine** taste like (I've never tasted one).

There is much more I discovered since the last time we "talked cork," but so many thoughts are swirling around in my head right now, like a glass of wine. Ever so appropriately.

More to come . . .

Here is my "Talking Cork with Pattie Baker" series to date:

"Bark to Bottle" (and How Cork Oak Forests are Getting Screwed)
A Turning Point in History for Cork Oak Forests--and I Will Bear Witness
"Dognitive" Dissonance
A "Gourd"geous Water Bottle, and More from My "Cork Series"
Some Surprising Discoveries about Women, Power, and Cork
The Top 10 Things to Know about Cork (to Be as Fun on a Walk as I Am)

* Please note Bonny Doon does not use these types of liners in their screw caps. They use tin.

**"corked wine" does not mean a bottle of wine with a cork in it. It means a bottle of wine that is ruined by something called cork taint. See here for more on that.

The First Potatoes of the Season, and Creating a Self-Serve Garden

2013-05-07T06:41:00.003-04:00

Happiness is . . . the first potatoes of the season! They are about two or three weeks later than usual this year, and I've been anxiously awaiting them.

Potatoes are ready to start being harvested once the potato plants flower. They are thin-skinned at this point and best eaten right away. For those who don't know, they grow underground as nodules on roots, and many grow from one plant.

I always plant February 14 in my climate, which is at least a month earlier than is recommended and which is too early to purchase fancy "seed potatoes" from seed companies. I have about a dozen plants, planted from a variety of organic potatoes from the supermarket that were going to be composted after they grew eyes, so they cost me nothing. I plant them on the edges of my garden, not in my good soil, as they don't need it that rich. I cover with wheat straw and add more as the stems grow so many times I don't even need to dig underground to get the potatoes--they are right there in the straw. I harvest one or two mid-sized potatoes from each plant a few times a week for about a month, and I always seem to have exactly what I need.

How easy was that?!

If you're just starting now with your garden, pop in at May in this "year-at-a-glance" gardening advice post I wrote for those in my climate. Adjust accordingly for yours if you live elsewhere on our FoodShed Planet. Also, don't miss the inspiring advice of my friend Kate in Tasmania* about seed-saving from this short television segment from a show named Gardening in Australia!

And please do consider planting a small garden at your local food pantry as part of my 50 for Good project (let me know if you do so I can add it to the tally). We are sending home "apartment gardens" with those who want them and don't have space otherwise where they live, so I am counting them toward the total as well. They are made with repurposed crates from the vegetables David gleans each week from supermarkets (not Costco). He started with potatoes two Februarys ago when we wanted some to plant, and then simply didn't stop. The boxes are not great but they are all we have and are better than nothing, and we have a seemingly endless supply of them. (I did a sample herb garden with one a few weeks ago, and it was a big hit). The community garden I helped start just donated lots of plants to us yesterday, so some of them will go home with people tomorrow in these crates. Many, many of the food pantry clients either have new gardens or are wanting to start them. We are giving out plants constantly lately.

Here's the sign I made for our food pantry garden yesterday as part of our plan to make it more self-sufficient**. The white space is for the food pantry clients to add more tips to others coming to harvest and help. The black space is chalkboard paint and the message will change each week. If you have other tips for a free, self-serve garden, please let us know!

*Whom I hope to visit one day, but perhaps not via kayak, as suggested by Mapquest when I asked for the "no highways" route! I'm not kidding--see here.

**We're also talking about converting the four rows to Hugelkultur, adding a Free Little Library with gardening how-to books, and more ideas that will decrease cost and maintenance for the garden long-term and help provide those in need with more tools and tricks for their own gardens.

Beware of Sacred Cows

2013-05-06T09:28:00.001-04:00

sacred cow
Fig. something that is regarded by some people with such respect and veneration that they do not like it being criticized by anyone in any way. (Source: The Free Dictionary)

We are in the final stages of solidifying the entire future direction of my community, determining what exactly it means when we say, "WHEREAS, the City . . . is charged with preserving the health, safety, and welfare . . . " (as it says on almost every single city resolution), and getting the details right matters. There can be no sacred cows in this discussion. There can only be open, honest conversation with the community's long-term best interest in mind.

Taking Weather's Unpredictability into Your Own Hands

2013-05-06T06:12:00.002-04:00

I've never seen the water so high around my Hand of God Tree, at the river where I like to walk. And this photo was taken before this past weekend's endless rain! Our spring has been cooler than usual, and our rain has been abundant--is there a chance we won't have drought conditions this summer, for once? (The headwaters of my watershed are the smallest of any metropolitan area in the United States, and water disputes among three states are ongoing. It wasn't that long ago that former-Governor Sonny Perdue led a prayer service for rain on the steps of the Georgia State Capitol--see here.) I'm not one to do a whole lot of waiting-and-seeing and doing nothing. I'm one to plan, to test options, and to try to have a hand in solutions.

That brings me to the Hugelkultur experiment* the middle school kids, my friends, and I did in the back field last year. It is showing very fertile, loose soil. The current issue of Urban Farm magazine has a big article about Hugelkultur, by the way, if you want to see exactly what's involved. It may be a dream-come-true technique with wide applications in a changing world.

Perhaps now is a good time to prepare for continual unpredictability of future weather and set up at least one of these beds at your home, community, school, and food pantry gardens (start one and join my 50 for Good effort!). They are especially handy in a place with no water access (or if you have no budget!) or if you travel a great deal, work long hours, or basically just like a low-maintenance garden (they technically never need to be watered or fertilized once established). I also think they may be the ideal solution (in combination with small-footprint vertical growing, such as what we're doing with locally-harvested bamboo) for growing public produce in public rights of way (such as on the Atlanta Beltline, under power lines, in back fields at community parks, and in Adopt-a-Spot locations around your city).

*We cultivated an 80-foot row, 40 feet of which were double dug, 20 feet of which were a Hugelkultur (where you dig a ditch and bury logs underneath, which hold water and decompose slowly over time thereby providing a steady supply of fertilizer), and 20 feet were no-till. The project has been "returned to nature" and I recently discovered that the row lives on (see A "Something's Happening" Out There) so I am studying the developments over time.

Once Mr. Stripey Goes In . . .

2013-05-05T08:16:00.000-04:00

It's my sign to kick back each year, step out of things a bit, and listen more fully to the callings of my soul so I can hear and heed my next steps. It's the day I plant Mr. Stripey. And that day has come.

The crimson clover, hairy vetch and winter rye is towering in a new spot I planted last fall. Birds flutter away every time I walk by, and rabbits hide in there. They make me smile, reminding me that even though much more is possible, now is nice, too.

The garden right outside my kitchen door overflows with abundance, during what is the most mild spring I've ever experienced in Atlanta, a year when perhaps I'll actually have lettuce and tomatoes at the same time (which is not typical here).

Some of the seeds of ideas I planted have grown as well, and others have not. The place or pace is not right for them. Or maybe they're just stupid, or things about which only I care. And so I let go.

My life is changing. My world is getting bigger. I am moving on. And for now, while Mr. Stripey grows, I will clear out the cobwebs in my mind and the constraints on my calendar so I am ready for new, fertile ground.

Introducing Ed Bruske, Farmer!

2013-05-05T07:48:00.000-04:00

I have been busting to tell you this for months now! You know my friend, Ed Bruske, the best journalist in the United States regarding school lunch (and much more) and the leader of after-school culinary classes for inner-city kids? (He ought to do a book on that.) The one whose extraordinary front-yard garden one mile from the White House I visited and photographed a couple of summers ago?

I shot the last public video footage of that garden's bounty, as he sold his house shortly thereafter and moved to a condo in a property he owns around the corner.
What's Growing One Mile from the White House from Pattie Baker on Vimeo.

But what I couldn't tell you yet was that was just a temporary move (and a move that broke his heart as he watched the developer rip out his garden, after saying he would try to keep it in some way as a resident amenity). Ed was on a hunt for what his heart really wanted. And he found it.

photo by Ed Bruske

Ed, his wife, and daughter bought a farm in upstate New York! Here is the story, from his blog*.

Congratulations, Ed. I can't wait to see the next chapter in your journey.

* While on Ed's blog, be sure to check out the investigative articles regarding school lunch (in the center column), and the hands-on weekly cooking lessons he gives kids (in the actual blog).

The Top 10 Things to Know about Cork (to Be as Fun on a Walk as I Am)

2013-05-03T14:51:00.004-04:00

So I'm walking at the river with my friend, trying out my Kigos to determine whether they are Portugal-ready (what does one wear to traipse around a cork oak forest?), when we get to talking cork, of course (my friends truly deserve medals). The necessity to boil down everything I'm learning (including from this literally page-turning book titled To Cork or Not to Cork) has become clear, as no one, and I mean no one I know has the slightest idea what's been going on with this whole cork saga. In short:

The Top 10 Things You Need to Know about Cork

1. No, harvesting cork does not hurt the cork oak tree. It's like shearing sheep. Outer bark. Every nine years. For 200 years.

2. No, there is no cork shortage. That's not why plastic and screw top wine closures are taking over the market.There's supposedly enough cork for every bottle in the world for the next 100 years. The main reason given for the need for alternative closures is something called "cork taint," which can ruin a bottle of wine, but I think more than anything, the cork makers lost trust when a whole lot of things happened in the 1980s (hence the page-turning of the book) and they were slow to respond. Good ole' innovation came sweeping in to fill the void (plus, the alternatives put more profit in the winemakers' pockets, I think, but am not sure yet). But, keep in mind, it's not like the alternatives don't have their own problems. They do.

3. Yes, the cork oak forests of the southwest Mediterranean area (mostly Portugal) are the second most bio-diverse areas in the world (after the Amazon rainforest) and they sequester a whole lot of carbon (I'm not 100% sure what that even means, but it's supposed to be important).

4. Yes, the cork oak forests are in serious peril (as in, things may hit the tipping point by 2015), not because the trees are being cut down but because the value of cork is dropping so far (such as a 50% drop in the last ten years) that it won't be economically viable to even harvest the cork if this continues much longer, thereby making it more likely the farmers will sell their land to developers.

5. Yes, there are an increasing number of products besides wine stoppers being made from cork (flooring, fabric, shoes, and, oh, things like aerospace heat shields--you do know that cork is inflammable, don't you?) but these are typically made from each tree's first two harvests of cork, which are lower quality than the third and subsequent harvests. There does not yet seem to be a viable product for the higher quality cork that can effectively replace the wine stopper in economic potential.

6. Yes, much research and development is underway to continually improve the performance of cork as the material of choice for wine stoppers, even when faced with competitive options.

7. No, recycled cork stoppers (such as those tossed in this box at Whole Foods locations nationwide) do not get turned into new wine stoppers. They are ground up and used for other products (see #8 below).

8. Yes, product innovation is being encouraged to help make cork a desirable material in a wider range of everyday consumer uses. Here is a fun video demonstrating the winning entry in a business competition. The winners are students at Keystone College in Pennsylvania, and they won $50,000 for their start-up. The cork used is from the Cork ReHarvest cork collection project pictured (photo taken today at the Sandy Springs, GA Whole Foods location--shhhhh, I don't think they like you taking pictures in there). My friend Rebecca Barria is getting her PhD in education with a focus on the effect of play on literacy--she will love seeing how the children in this video play with the cork stools in a wide variety of ways. (I wonder if they'll be reading soon!) (Speaking of which, I haven't started learning Portugese yet, as this video reminds me.)

Besta Kids Stool from Paula Corrales on Vimeo.

9. Yes, I plan on bringing these skirts (and, yes, I just went outside and hung them from this tree so I could take this picture, however weird that sounds). They fold up into practically nothing (I travel with just a small backpack), you can dress them up and down (the itinerary is very varied), and I find they help me cross cultures when I am urban farming (you've all seen me in them), so I hope they work that same magic in Portugal. Okay, fine, that had nothing to do with cork, but there are important packing decisions to be made.

10. You need ten things here to make a list, don't you? Hmmm, let me think.What did I leave out? Oh, the Iberian lynx! And that leads me to my Big Idea (my friend practically turned and ran when I got to this part today). It all starts with Trappist cheese (stay with me). Apparently there's some big wheel of cheese in some cheese cellar in Europe that has a web cam on it and it's like the most viewed thing in the world. Why, you ask? Well, because a Trappist monk apparently turns the cheese once a day. But here's the catch--it's never at the same time. So folks just keep tapping in to see if the cheese is being turned. Okay, back to the Iberian lynx (which is some sort of big cat, for those who don't know--we never stop learning here on our FoodShed Planet, do we?). Apparently, the cork oak forests are a natural habitat for this endangered species. So, yes, you guessed it. My big idea is Cork Cam (well, in reality, my friend gave it that name as she got sucked into the idea). The random attractor? Tapping in to see if the lynx is passing by. Don't laugh. This could be big.

Stay tuned. There are many discoveries ahead for us on our shared journey to Portugal. I haven't even talked to the synthetic and screw cap people yet!

(And wait 'til you hear who are the other journalists traveling with me.)

For those of you just joining us, be sure to see the previous cork posts here:

"Bark to Bottle" (and How Cork Oak Forests are Getting Screwed)
A Turning Point in History for Cork Oak Forests--and I Will Bear Witness
"Dognitive" Dissonance
A "Gourd"geous Water Bottle, and More from My "Cork Series"
Some Surprising Discoveries about Women, Power, and Cork

Really, who knew?!

A "Something's Happening" Out There

2013-05-03T06:33:00.002-04:00

So I trotted out to the back field the other day, just to see how fully the land the middle school kids* and I had cultivated last school year has "returned to nature," as no person or group stepped up to take it over when we finished. (I kept it going through the summer, with the help of some faithful water-bearing friends, and it served as the first model of intentionally-free, public produce in our city, with over 100 pounds of excess bounty donated to our local food pantry.) I expected the row and the big circle to be unidentifiable, mowed into unison with the surrounding area. But, no.

Wait, yes. The area has been returned to Nature. And Nature is having a ball. Nature is growing pounds and pounds of mint, and a big potato plant, and lots of clover, buckwheat, winter rye, and hairy vetch. And the maintenance crew in the city park where this is located must have sensed that things were not done, that Nature was still expressing herself, and have been mowing around it all, instead of over it as I had expected them to do. It is a "something's happening" out there.

I'm not saying I pulled some weeds and hoed a bit and planted sorghum and Egyptian wheat and okra and sunflower seeds yesterday, and I'm not saying I didn't. I'm not saying anything at all.

I had at one time thought that back field would make a lovely little public urban farm. Then, while working with the kids, I thought perhaps we'd just keep adding rows and see where it goes, with the kids leading the way. But now I guess we'll all just wait and see what Nature has in mind.

(I am happy to report that some of the things we learned last year with Coach Burdette and the kids, especially regarding rows and bamboo, are being applied to our food pantry garden, right across the street from the middle school. And, yes, a number of the students' families are clients there.)

* See Real Work to Grow Real Food that Makes a Real Difference (which is one of the top 10 most-read FoodShed Planet posts in almost seven years of blog posts, although still nowhere close to the blog post titled Loony Bin Organic Milk Momma!).

Do You Stay, or Do You Leave? Here's What Rebecca Decided

2013-05-02T06:40:00.001-04:00

Rebecca Barria at the Wylde Center (named after Sally Wylde)

Dunwoody Community Garden ("where the sidewalk ends, community grows")

I met Rebecca Barria in a kudzu-filled field almost four years ago right now. She wanted to start a community garden. A man named Bob joined us. We brought more folks into the conversation, and we did it, with Rebecca as the first chairperson of what is now the largest community garden in metro Atlanta (when you add in the greenhouse center in a separate part of the city park where it is located). There has been new leadership for awhile now, and the garden appears to be thriving.

I'm a decade younger than Bob, and Rebecca is at least that much younger than me, so we are all in different life stages, and that has had an impact on some of our decisions. But wanting creative freedom and liking to be start-up people has had a bigger impact, I'd say, for Bob and me, and we moved on and have enjoyed starting and helping other gardens all over the place.

Rebecca's son's preschool class on a Beltline field trip

For Rebecca, it is about life stage and life style. Her children are young, she wants them to be around an artsy, intellectual energy where hands-on discovery is a central tenet of education, where they can walk and ride their bikes easily, and where they can truly thrive, learn, and grow as active participants in a changing world. She realized she could wait twenty years for this all to possibly happen here (with fights at City Hall and with the county school system every step of the way), or she could immerse her children in this reality immediately.

She and her husband chose to move this past January (he actually commutes back here each day), and she has been ecstatic about her decision ever since. Her children come home happy from school with stories to tell about hands-on, outdoors exploration. She lives walking distance to the original Farm Burger location and other shops and restaurants in and around the downtown square, where there are frequent events. A prior high school English teacher with gifted education certification, she is now pursuing her PhD in education, focusing on the impact of play on literacy.

I caught up with Rebecca recently at a major community garden near her home, where Tibetan prayer flags hung all over the place, beautiful heirloom chickens (not allowed in my city) clucked happily in the coop, and a Little Free Library invited visitors to browse and borrow.

Rebecca looks happy. Food for thought for all of us, no matter what our life stage. Do you stay and try to change things if you live somewhere that doesn't quite fit your values, or do you leave and live a life that more authentically represents you?

Happiness Is . . .

2013-05-01T06:34:00.001-04:00

Happiness is . . . a friend who lends her loppers, another friend who shows up as a chopper, and a stranger (now a friend) who lets us loose in her yard.

The world is truly an abundant place.

See The Bounty of Bamboo for what we're doing.

"50 for Good" (and How You Are Necessary) UPDATED TWICE

2013-04-29T15:12:00.001-04:00

50 for Good! (50 new food pantry gardens by August 1, 2013) from Pattie Baker on Vimeo.

This is what our food pantry garden looked like when it started

I turn 50 in August. My mom got breast cancer when she was 50 (she survived, but aunts on both sides of my family have died from the disease or complications), and so this milestone has always felt a little scary to me.

I realize that none of us know what the future holds, no matter what our family histories, so right now is all we have to try to do a little bit of good in this world. Therefore, I've decided that for my 50th birthday, I'd like to encourage the creation of 50 new gardens for those in need all over our FoodShed Planet. Will you help me?

This is what the food pantry garden looks like now

At the one where I volunteer, we grow food, community, knowledge, dignity, and fun. Join me. Start one near you. It could be just a big pot of herbs or a single raised vegetable bed. Work directly with those in need (and you'll soon realize we are ALL in need in one way or another).

See Growing for--and with--Those in Need, Made Easy for some tips to get you going. See The Naked Truth about Hunger for more helpful info (and some fun photos). And let's see what grows . . .

Email me at sustainablepattie@comcast.net with a link to something about your new food pantry garden or how you helped those in need start and expand gardens for themselves and I'll shout it out throughout social media (Klout score=60) and on this blog (35,000 page views a month), and will include it in the tally. We're all in this together--let's celebrate each garden's success.

Who will start another new garden? Will it be you?

UPDATE: May 1, 2013 I have received emails or other notice giving me permission to add the following new food pantry garden efforts. I will get more details, links, and photos, as available:

I'm counting our existing one as #1.
#2. Passive solar greenhouse at a church in Colorado (Mark Anderson)
#3. Holly Springs Food Cupboard, Holly Springs, North Carolina (Sabrina Thompson)
#4. Peace Baptist Church, Decatur, GA (Fred Conrad)

UPDATE: May 10, 2013 We gave out about 100 free tomato plants recently (which were grown from seed by people at three community gardens as well as one of our volunteers at her home greenhouse) plus herb-filled "apartment gardens" (planted in reused crates from fresh produce gleaned from area supermarkets) to those in need at our food pantry garden. Many of the clients have home gardens now and are expanding them, and many are just starting them this year. To be conservative in my estimate, I am going to count 25 of these gardens as part of this "50 for Good" effort. That puts us at 29, with 21 to go! Why not give out plants to
those in need near you?

#5-#29: New or expanded home gardens for food pantry clients, with plants donated by the Norcross Community Garden, the Dunwoody Community Garden, the Alpharetta Community Garden, and Ann Dovan.

"Mint for Good" Just About Gone UPDATED

2013-04-28T08:14:00.002-04:00

Note to FoodShed Planet readers: I'm letting the domain name Mint for Good expire (you can see it here until May 21, 2013), so I thought I'd capture the info here, in case there is any interest at all out there. I think it's a good idea whose time and place will come, but perhaps not yet.
____________

Mint for Good
doing good, one mint pint of chocolate chip ice cream at a time

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Answers To These Questions Would Be Worth a Mint

Am looking for complete, accurate answers to these questions and cannot get them anywhere. What exactly does one need to do to legally sell mint to a commercial business while protecting themselves from liability issues? I know many people are "just doing this," but since I want to make this a scalable pilot project with national implications, it really does need to be done correctly.

Specific questions:

1. If the mint is sold from a home garden, does the gardener need a business license? From whom? The city? Do local ordinances restrict this activity even if there is no on-site customer contact?

2. Does the gardener need a USDA inspection/approval? (am not talking about organic certification here--am just talking about sale of a food item)

3. Does the gardener need specific liability insurance to cover this activity?

4. If the mint is grown on a commercial property, do the rules change at all?

5. If the mint is grown on a non-profit's property, do the rules change at all?

6. If the mint is given to the ice cream company in return for a donation to the non-profit, do the rules change at all? Am thinking particularly of a micro-enterprise project in a high school economics class, or a food pantry effort at a church.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Introducing Mint for Good--Doing Good, One Pint of Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream at a Time

So mint is invasive. You plant it and before long, it's everywhere. I use it for tea and pesto, and I even dip it in egg white and sugar and use it as a really delicious garnish on brownies. One week I cut an armful of it and brought it to the food pantry, where I volunteer in a vegetable garden there that helps feed about 100 families-in-need a week. It got snapped up in seconds, amidst many smiles. I brought it again and again, and we even planted a whole bed full of mint in the food pantry garden after seeing how popular it is.

And so I've been thinking about mint a lot. What else makes people smile? What else could mint do for good? How else could we use the blessing of this abundance? That's when I got the ice cream idea.

What if my local artisanal ice cream company used mint from a food pantry garden to make its mint chocolate chip ice cream? And what if a percentage of the sales of all pints made with this mint came back to the food pantry garden? (Or, even simpler, what if the ice cream company just made a donation to the food pantry garden every time we provided mint?) And what if there were a network of ice cream companies nationwide, a Mint for Good network, that did this with their local community food pantry gardens?

What if?

How hard could this be?

How about we just identify our local artisanal ice cream company and our local food-growing network for those in need, and then ask? We can share what we learn and see how we grow. Literally.

UPDATE: (May 3, 2013) I have been contacted by a group in California that is possibly interested in taking over this URL and effort. Stay tuned!

Nature Actually Wants Us to Flower (and the Thrilling Return of "Bathroom as Metaphor")

2013-04-28T07:51:00.001-04:00

So the woman pushing the baby in the stroller walks by often. She seems interested in my garden, especially now, when all my work and waiting from fall and winter explodes in color and height and movement. The winter rye. The hairy vetch. The crimson clover. But this year, something else, especially. Something that is literally everywhere the eye can see, from way up the street.

"What are those yellow flowers?" she asks me. I've told you about them already. Well, not the flowers, which are on tall stems and sway in unison in the wind, and taste a bit peppery and delicious when I pop them in my mouth, which is often.

I harvested at least 100# of turnips this year (not including greens)

I've told you about the turnips and how I tossed seeds recklessly last fall. Well, now they are flowering. Who would know that such a lowly, unglamorous root crop has such beautiful flowers? I laugh a bit when I tell people, "They are turnips." Their faces often go blank, first trying to actually conjure up the idea of turnips and then trying to attach that thought to this extraordinary beauty.

And then, for extra measure, I throw in about the greens, how they are sweet again (after going through a bitter stage, which, I realize now, was just nature's way of telling me it was time to eat the roots, which we did, daily, for probably two months). We're eating at least a large colander full of them a day again (more than the bagful that would sell for $4 at area farmers markets), and we know the end is near. I've already pulled out piles of the plants and laid them neatly right there where they were growing so they can decompose, thereby feeding the microbial life in the soil, emitting their special chemical that will deter pests all summer, and serving as a water-conserving mulch for the heat of summer ahead in our drought-prone climate.

I always let some plants go completely to seed, however, which many of the plants are now doing, because, yes, I like to save them to use again (the turnip seeds will get planted in October, with the hopes for another banner months-long harvest from greens to roots to greens again (although my top turnip-eater won't be here next year).

But that's not all. I let them go to seed because I am in awe of the final flowering of life. I like to share that with people of all ages (especially children, regarding their grandparents, and anyone, really, who may be stuck in a rut), about how nature actually wants us to flower as we age, that it's only natural to show the world our final explosion of beauty. Here's what I wrote years ago about this final flowering of life:

Edible flowers remind me of so many older people I see, quietly quilting and painting and creating such beauty, expressing a lifetime of stored energy and inspiration, while younger, more supposedly productive life buzzes on around them. There they are, in all their glory, flowering exuberantly, reaching their arms boldly to the sun, singing a final song and leaving an indelible mark on all they touch as their seeds spread to foster new growth long after they are gone.

Here are the turnip flowers serving as a backdrop of this photo of yet another one of my quick herb-drying racks, which is turning into my favorite gift to give. (See how to make it here.)

Here are the turnip flowers (along with knockout roses, mint, winter rye, and crimson clover) in a bouquet of flowers which I put in the bathroom on "show nights" at my daughter's high school because the bathroom is so disgusting and this little bit of beauty seems to help (see The Bathroom as Metaphor).

Perhaps when you think of aging now, you'll think of turnips. And you'll see the beauty. Not just in them, but in you.

Singing for Their Lives

2013-04-27T07:15:00.002-04:00

Remember these kids? Middle school kids. Awkward. Self-conscious. Shy. Well, months have passed, many rehearsals have happened, and they are now exploding across stage and running all technical aspects of their school drama club performance with presence, power, and passion.

Miss Saigon at North Springs Charter High School (click for blog)

And then there are these kids. High schoolers, many of whom are about to head to colleges all across the country, with proven strengths in creativity, innovation, communication, collaboration, and intellectual curiosity--all critical skills needed for our changing world.

And what about these kids? They are the poorest of the poor, chosen to be part of the 20-year-old African Children's Choir, traveling the world and singing, literally, for their lives. My friend Erin is doing a documentary about them titled Imba Means Sing.

"Imba Means Sing" Trailer from imba means sing on Vimeo.

All these children have found a way out through the arts. A way out of the overbearing test-focused bureaucracy or the lack of opportunities they see ahead of them. A way out of one-track thinking that stifles the brilliance of combining ideas across disciplines (such as what this man, Jesse Cramer, the Director of Improv at a local theater, is doing in his debut play). A way out of life with the joy sucked out of it.

And they have found a way in--to their reason for being on this earth, to what makes getting up and showing up worth it, to possibilities. And, once they have tasted this nectar of passion, no matter how often or how deeply the funding for their arts opportunities gets cut, they find a way. They sing in garages and street corners and clubs. They sing in the bathroom and back alleys and back seats of cars. They sing for their lives, because they know that the lives that many schools today show them as worth pursuing are simply not. (See Why Arts Education Is Critical to a Sustainable Future.)

Here's a "spoken word" performance by a young man about the over-reliance on test results in our society to determine children's worth that I think is worth sharing with you. I don't believe the arts is the only way to break the hold of the testing chains, but I've seen it work so many times for so many people, it's hard not to, well, sing its praises.

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

2013-04-25T06:28:00.001-04:00

"Come look!" my friend, Page, said when I stopped by to chop more bamboo from her backyard for our "structure projects" at the food pantry garden. And sure enough, there they were, little bamboo shoots, popping up exactly like asparagus. They were everywhere.

"So, you mean, these shoots will grow big and tall this year?"

"Thirty feet!" she replied.

Talk about a renewable resource!

We chopped, cut, and stuffed my car, as we had a week ago, and I brought it to the garden that afternoon.

A friend of mine named David Cox, one of the founders of a community garden in a nearby city,* had come to donate tomato and pepper plants and immediately dove in on the structure project--this one would originate on the edge of the last raised garden bed and then extend into a wood-chipped area where we had been hoping to put a handicapped-accessible raised bed but could never seem to find the funds or focus to do it. I have been thinking (possibly nonstop) about the structures, and what would be possible, and I realized that if we simply built a structure there, then people could roll up on the sidewalk in wheelchairs or stand and not have to bend (for those with back problems or other mobility issues) while harvesting cucumbers and string beans. It would be a start. A way to turn negative space into positive.

A man living in a homeless shelter helped him, and their conversation flowed while working together. Two boys joined in, holding the bamboo in place so it could be tied tightly. An hour passed. David showed me how to run twine up and down by first nicking the bamboo with a saw to make a place to catch it and hold it in place. It's a simple trick, but one I hadn't learned yet. (Thanks, David.)

When the structure was finished and two girls ran under it, we realized it could also serve as a shady fort for children, who could easily stand within it and harvest or just hang out, escaping the coming heat of summer.

And so I continue to think bamboo, bamboo, bamboo. I'm thinking of two more 25-foot-row-length structures like the one we built last week.

I'm thinking of another one in the area that was just mulched last weekend for our rambling summer crops.

I'm thinking of learning hands-on from the refugees at the Clarkston Community Garden this year (the ones who inspired me so much last year on this topic), if I can work it out, to see how to split bamboo and cut notches and build on-ramps and ladders for crops as well. It seems I like to build.

I'm thinking of the fact that you only need a teeny bit of fertile soil, a few seeds, a bit of twine (although the refugees simply cut up supermarket plastic bags as ties), and some free bamboo to grow a whole lot of food.

I'm thinking this is a huge breakthrough for me for demonstrating how to grow food for those with limited resources, and how to have a smaller garden at home that actually produces more, thereby reducing the amount of soil amendments, cost, and work involved.

I built what I call my Rube Goldberg Crop Machine at my home garden, augmenting what I had already built last year. A crop grows up a pole and then tumbles throughout the series of structures, like a marble in one of the extraordinary kinetic creations inspired by Goldberg's cartoons. Or at least that's the vision I see in my head. It could be fun (and fun matters--here's why), and you get more food. A win-win. (What if we split bamboo and build an actual Rube Goldberg Machine at the food pantry garden where kids-in-need could roll cherry tomatoes instead of marbles down it and experience physics in action, or get inspired to create cartoons like Rube Goldberg, or light a fire in their imaginations in ways we simply can't predict? What if my friend, Rebecc a, who is now working on her PhD and focusing on the effect of play on literacy, were to get involved? What if . . what if . . . what if . . .)

And, of course, there is one line that keeps ringing through my head, the one that comes back again and again every time I realize that what I'm doing is a mere shadow of what could be done. What on earth is really possible?

Now I just need more bamboo. Lots and lots of bamboo.

Oh, and by the way, here is an interactive (you can walk on it) exhibit that was at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City three summers ago, and then the fence at the Battery Urban Farm on the lower tip of Manhattan, which was made from the repurposed bamboo from that exhibit. All the bamboo came from the state of Georgia. Where I live.

* Alpharetta Community Garden--here's a picture I took last year of it:

"You're a Contradiction, Costco"

2013-04-24T05:55:00.004-04:00

So there I was at Costco to get the strawberries. Yes, I know that non-organic ones are on the just-released 2013 Dirty Dozen list of fruits and vegetables with the most pesticide residue, as they are each year, but it's still birthday week for my older daughter, homemade chocolate-dipped strawberries is the requested treat, and try finding organic strawberries . . . (I do make occasional exceptions on all sorts of things.)

I pick up the package of unnaturally-large berries, all "perfect" (because, as we know, Costco is the only store in the United States that miraculously has no edible waste or minor imperfections, ever), and I'm leaving when I bang into this. A temporary display of Fair Trade merchandise that helps women in Rwanda! Nice. (Costco also sells a house brand bag of chocolate chips from "responsibly-sourced cacao," so that's what I melted and used for dipping the strawberries. Here is my post about organic products as Costco, and how I have many consumer questions about them.)

You're a contradiction, Costco. You may even surprise me yet and donate a carload of fresh food each week. Here's what that looks like.

(For more on strawberries, see There's No Business like Grow Business, The $64 Question, and The Face of Georgia Organics' Facebook Updates.)

(For more on parenting a teen, see Web of Life, Grabbing onto Pomegranates with Both Hands, and Teen Learning to Drive. Mom Learning to Meditate.)

(There's much more about parenting, food, and life in my book.)

"Beauty Is Not a Luxury" UPDATED

2013-04-23T05:49:00.002-04:00

I visited the food pantry garden yesterday just to check it out. My friend James and a team of volunteers from Georgia Power had been there a few days earlier and had mulched the entire garden, including an expansion of it that will serve as an open space for summer crops like watermelon and butternut squash to ramble. It's a long way from the five simple little beds it started as less than three years ago (after just four days of fundraising).

Almost three years ago

The site of the garden blew my socks off. It was so, so beautiful. Every plant so green and healthy. Every path so freshly covered. I thought of how much the food pantry clients will enjoy it on Wednesday, as they do each week. How much they love the edible brassica flowers and blooming crimson clover and the way the sunlight kisses our faces as we harvest and help each other or sit on the stone wall and chat. (See Growing for--and with--Those in Need, Made Easy for tips you can use near you.)

And, as I usually do, I thought of one of my favorite quotes in the world--written by Alice Waters in a gorgeous book of hers about the making of the Edible Schoolyard at that middle-school-in-need in Berkeley, California. "Beauty is not a luxury." I wrote about this book, and Alice, a few years ago, and I want to rerun that post for you now.
__________________

The day was all "gray and green," as my friend John of the Bottle Tree put it, with clouds and wind and sun taking turns across the sky's stage, and the almost piercingly crisp green of spring exploding forth from trees and grass and bushes and every one of my vegetable beds. Those sticks that had sprouted from within my blackberry and juniper bushes, the ones I meant to cut down in the fall, have blossomed with Carolina jasmine flowers that look like angels have sprinkled them everywhere. The fig tree I replanted in the fall, whose fate I didn't know all winter, has leaves unfurling from its tips and even one sweet little baby fig as if to prove beyond a doubt that it, like us, has survived.

And there, by my front door, lay a package from Chronicle Books in San Francisco. I could feel my heart start to race as I walked toward it, picked it up and felt its heft.

I ripped it open and just stood there, its beauty overwhelming me. Edible Schoolyard: A Universal Idea, by Alice Waters is a truly special book. The size and shape and feel of the binding takes me right back to the downstairs children's section of the Mineola Library, in the village where I grew up, 16 miles and a 30-minute Long Island Rail Road ride outside New York City. I would have found a book like this and held it close to my heart. I would have known, instinctively, how delicious it would be.

I didn't intend to read it last night cover to cover, sitting there at the kitchen table, the arugula and tatsoi flowering right outside my window, the lawn speckled with dandelions. But the world was gray and green and Alice's blue-skyed sunflower-and-amaranth-filled cover photo mesmerized me.

Of course, I know all about the Edible Schoolyard in Berkeley, California, how Alice helped transform an acre of asphalt at a middle school where the cafeteria was condemned near her restaurant, Chez Panisse, into a living, breathing model integrating a school garden, school food and culinary education. And then how she rolled that model out to all the Berkeley schools, and beyond. But I had not read the background story, especially not in her own words. (And the photos! And the children's writings!)

Now, listen, all this White House Garden stuff has led to lots of blog talk about how elite Alice Waters is. But let me tell you something. I choked up no less than three times during the reading of this brief book. Not because of what Alice did. Not because of the lives she has changed. But because of how soul-penetratingly beautifully she writes about it. If that's how Alice talks, and if that's what Alice can do with a piece of land or a piece of food, and if that makes her sound elite, well, goodness, bring it on. Because Alice doesn't discriminate between those paying top dollar in her restaurant and those paying their dues day in day out at an inner city school. Alice believes in beauty. In fact, the fifth Principle of Edible Education, according to Alice, is:

Beauty is a Language

A beautifully prepared environment, where deliberate thought has gone into everything from the garden paths to the plates on the tables, communicates to children that we care about them.

Alice says that "beauty is not a luxury; it is a means of lifting the human spirit and of giving richness to everyday life."

For anyone who is considering starting a school garden or a garden for those in need in any way, I would highly recommend you read this book. And to anyone who wants to add more beauty to their lives as a way of living in concert with the color and fragrance and taste and texture of food, I'd say learn a thing or two from Alice.

My friend Debbie Smith, who founded and directs the sustainable toy company Idbids, has an organic plush flower character named Lola, who believes "pretty is as pretty does." Something tells me Lola and Alice would get along!

I wrote about Alice and school lunch another time here on FoodShed Planet. And yes, I still think about that peach.
____________________________

Another quote I love is "the garden resembles the gardener." As I gazed upon all that beauty yesterday, I had the somewhat shocking realization that we, all of us involved in any way in that garden, must be beautiful as well.

UPDATE 4/24/13: Saw these seeds and thought, "Gosh, yes, Martha Stewart seeds would fit in beautifully in our food pantry garden." We'll plant them today. (This photo was taken right outside my kitchen door.)

For those interested and available, The Edible Classroom in Berkeley (which has expanded to become the Edible Schoolyard Project and now has an entire garden network across the United States) has several job openings right now.

Roots and Wings

2013-04-21T07:30:00.000-04:00

They say the two best things you can give your child are roots and wings. My older daughter becomes an adult this week, and I'm thinking about roots and wings and birth week a whole lot more than Earth Week right now.

I know I have given her roots--lots and lots of roots. Beets and turnips and carrots and garlic, and onions, potatoes, kohlrabi, and radishes. And I know I have given her wings. Butterfly and dragonfly and ladybug and bee. But I wonder how well we did on that list we created over many years, titled "What Kids Need to Learn in Life"? Have I done my job there?

I glance down at the list. How to produce, cook, and store your own food. How to ride a bike, ride a horse, swim, and drive a car. Basic self defense. How to be a good citizen. The first-hand experience of volunteering. How to balance time. How to earn, manage, invest, and share money. How to read a map. How to ask questions and not just give answers. The pride and joy of memorizing a beloved poem. And more. Check, check, check, check, check. (You can see the whole list in my book on pages 29-30.)

But then I get to number 23. How to say please, no, yes, thank you, and I'm sorry in five languages. My daughter studied Spanish, Latin, and Chinese for awhile, but does she know these five simple words in each? I'm not sure. But let's say yes. Add in English and that makes four languages. And that means there's one left, and we are not yet done. And so, today, I finish my job.

Please

Please see the beauty in the world, including in yourself. Please know that you are necessary. Please trust the journey. Please let your spirit soar, even when others try to stop you. Especially then. Tafadhali (Swahili).

No

Say no to whatever your gut tells you to do so. Say no to negative attitudes. Say no to people who make you feel bad about yourself. Say no when you know in your soul that you need a break. нет (Russian).

Yes

Say yes to hard work and new experiences and people who make you feel good. Say yes even when it doesn't make sense but your heart skips a beat at the mere thought of it. Say yes to the gift of each new unrepeatable day. Oui (French).

Thank you

Thank you for changing my life. Thank you for filling every room you enter with your joy and intellectual curiosity. Thank you for the intensity of your passions, and for sharing them so generously in so many ways. Thank you for singing and dancing.

شكرا لك.

(Arabic).

I'm sorry

I'm sorry your generation is charged with saving a world you had no hand in hurting. I'm sorry the economy is such a mess. I'm sorry we didn't get to travel more together. I'm sorry if there is some way in which you feel I've failed you. Λυπάμαι (Greek).

And so now, we're done, my sweet love. Our new relationship, our adult relationship, now begins. I will say once more the words I whispered to you when you were born 18 years ago. I've never done this before. Let's learn together.

My daughter is heading to the University of Pittsburgh this fall, where she intends to double-major in political science and theater arts. She is the recipient of one of about ten full-ride merit scholarships given by the university each year called the Chancellor's Scholarship. My husband, my younger daughter, and I could not be happier for her. The world is calling. And she is ready.

And, yes, I'm already following Grow Pittsburgh on Twitter.

Some Surprising Discoveries about Women, Power, and Cork

2013-04-20T06:40:00.001-04:00

You know how dirt and leaves and wheat straw (if you happen to be constantly dragging in stuff like that from your garden, as I do) seem to always end up in the corners of the kitchen, all gathered together like a little cocktail party, as if some centrifugal force has blown them there (hence, the mop photo)? Well, that 's what seems to be happening with the research I'm doing in preparation for my upcoming trip to the cork oak forests, factories, and families of Portugal (see my "cork series" of posts here). The details are coming together. And they are starting to gather in a very interesting direction.

Turns out that women could save the cork forests, and pretty darn easily. You see, turns out women buy about 60% (80% in the United Kingdom) of all wine bottles sold (a percentage that holds or rises with almost all other consumer purchases as well, by the way--see these fast facts about marketing to women). Also, turns out that more than 50% of women are looking for more green choices, and are far more likely to choose environmentally-sound products when given the choice. Turns out, at least anecdotally, that just about no woman I know has any idea about the cork oak forests--the most common question I've been asked lately is, "So just tell me--is it good or bad to use cork?" And I don't blame them--I had no idea a month or so ago either. No marketing effort is currently reaching them, at least not significantly. Stay with me and you'll see why.

It turns out that any attempt to connect with consumers regarding cork has positioned women on the receiving end of a male's purchase of special-occasion wine or as male-version-of-sexy background dancers. (I'd make an exception for the cork recycling box at Whole Foods locations nationwide, as I believe that is very nicely done, but my visits to three different Whole Foods locations in the last month have shown the boxes are missing).

Oh, wait, here's another interesting finding--turns out the overwhelming majority of that purchased wine is being consumed as an everyday beverage (and, frankly, a screw cap on a $10 bottle of everyday wine sipped while making macaroni and cheese while kids watch the Disney Channel is pretty low-maintenance--no "romance of cork" is needed here). In other words, the marketing has been completely off-target and off-message. (This is probably a good time to mention that only 3% of all advertising creative directors are women--see far more about this on the site of my friend and nationally-renowned marketing-to-women expert Kat Gordon.) I'm not saying a woman has to craft a message to women, but the proof is pretty much in the pudding (or, shall we say, Pinot Noir) on this particular one. See here:

And this video is even weirder, from a marketing perspective, because the theme of "sniffing the cork" encourages an action that highlights the main problem with cork wine stoppers ("cork taint") without actually addressing or solving that problem. Even if you can convince folks that cork is worth it, cork taint isn't. Ever. So the goal of the cork industry should be to eliminate the need to sniff, not encourage folks to want to sniff.

And, by the way, my research initially revealed cork taint was a naturally-occurring incident in about 5% of corks but it seems that it actually occurs as a result of insufficient rinsing after chlorine-washing to bleach the corks, in combination with natural aspects of the cork. Huh? And if the corks are being bleached for purely aesthetic reasons (I don't know the answer to this yet), whose aesthetics? I certainly don't need lighter corks if it means chlorine is involved. Anyhow, note the women as backdrops and window dressing in that video rather than as the purchasing decision makers who can pretty much make or break the industry when they vote with their dollars.

So I wonder:

1. Should we get together as a gender and save the forests this year? Because, you know, we can. Or do we collectively embrace change and product innovation, and maybe some cool new design will come out of it that could make wine closures a product we collect and create something truly useful out of, not stupid little cork trivets?

2. As for the cork, do we encourage the cork folks to innovate their way to a new market for their 3rd-harvest-and-beyond high-quality raw material as well? (They are already doing this for their first two harvests, with everything from aerospace heat shields to fabrics to flooring.)

3. And to take this all one step further, do we encourage girls to get involved more with STEAM fields (this is the new updated version of STEM-- science, technology, engineering, and math, to include art and design) to come up with a whole slew of potential solutions through global competitions, scholarships, and support? How much could the cork oak forest problem change the world for good? We get to decide that, ladies. This year.

And, by the way, I'm not looking to leave the guys out here. It's just that I'm a mom of daughters, and an increasingly important goal of my life is to build a bridge to the future for them and their generation. And that means making sure that everyone--guys and girls--has the natural resources, the personal strength and skills, and the collective power to maximize his or her positive impact on our changing world. And I don't think women, in general, yet know how much power we already have, especially when we work together.

Yes, the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. The hand that raises a potentially cradle-to-cradle-certified package like a wine bottle that includes natural cork stoppers, or supports product innovation in other ways, can re-invigorate the world as well. This, we can do (if we so choose).

Riding My Bike on the Beltline

2013-04-18T18:32:00.001-04:00

"So let's meet at 9:30, okay?" I wrote to my friend, John Brown, about our planned bike ride on the Atlanta Beltline (about which I raved here, after taking a three-hour bus tour of the entire 22-mile proposed project). "But remember, I have a bike, not a cycle. You know, complete with a basket." He got my point, and brought his mountain bike rather than his usual touring cycle. He wore shorts. I wore my flip flops.

I'm just a bike rider. I never gave this much thought before I moved to Atlanta. I just rode my bike. I rode it the store, I rode it to school, I rode it home from work as a teenager at midnight in the snow, and I rode it all over Manhattan. I rode it my whole life. I was never considered to be an "inexperienced" rider until I moved here. Cycling is definitely a "sport" here, and what gets lost in the translation is that riding a bike is also just a simple means of transportation for people of all ages and sizes all over the world, and many people (like me) enjoy it for that purpose. It doesn't require fancy equipment or special clothes or the ability to travel in packs. It's not so hard, or at least it shouldn't be. (See my previous posts about biking, including Hallelujeh, or What Biking to School Just Might Have You and Your Children Singing, "Just Follow the Pretty White Line," The Year the Lights Came On, and When the Rubber Hits the Road.)

That's my friend John on his bike

Today I saw what a difference things like a dedicated trail can make, because today for the first time in the 23 years since I moved here I rode side by side and chatted with a friend on a flat, safe path that was fun and relaxing. No constant hills. No constant traffic. No constant worry about getting killed out there. We had so much fun and felt so free that when the path ended, we didn't.

Note the bumper sticker: No farms, no food. This farm is in the middle of the city

We rode through a downtown neighborhood the extra six minutes or so to my friend Rashid's urban farm, where, in addition to the four acres under cultivation, he has added 49 new 25-foot raised beds in a lot across the street. We rode past tour groups getting in and out of buses at the birthplace of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Ebenezer Church (where he preached) and the King Center for Nonviolent Social Change. We turned down a
street to see the new light rail tracks being laid. And then we made our way back to the two and a half mile 14-foot-wide Beltline path and joined the moms with jogging strollers, the walkers with dogs, and the other cyclists--and plain ole' bike riders like me. We stopped to check out the graffiti. We noted all the businesses along the way, increasingly oriented to be accessible to those on the path, including several restaurants that had veggies growing (one in a garden and one in planters). We saw the famous cat named Piper who even has a Twitter account. And we may have even stopped a few times and planted sunflowers (see A Seed of Good).

All I know is it was fun. And riding my bike easily like this felt like the most natural thing in the world. Because, you know what? It is.

3 Simple Actions (Well, Sorta' 4)

2013-04-18T06:43:00.000-04:00

Build something.

Work together.

Try to do more with less, and leave things better than you found them.