The Universe Beneath Your Feet

Soil is alive.  It’s a complex web of macro (that which we can see with our eyes), and micro (those we mostly cannot see) organisms.  One tablespoon of soil contains over six  billion bacteria and countless other species that contribute to a medium teeming with life.   We depend on this life to sustain us.  In soil, we grow the plants that provide us with oxygen, food, clothing and shelter.  In  soil, the water cycle is regulated and water purified.  In this soil universe, sometimes disparagingly called “dirt,”  live the creatures that decompose all dead organic matter on Earth; turning waste into value.   Soil is the meeting place of atmosphere, hydrosphere, lithosphere, and biosphere.  Like most places where “edges” of different worlds meet, the soil is a dynamic interface.   Fertile soil is alive with the biodiversity of a thriving forest; complex ecosystems connecting, growing,  living, co-existing, dying.

Soil is Alive

In many places of the world topsoil, (where most soil life is found), is being lost at an unprecedented rate.   Our lives depend on saving, cultivating, and regenerating soil life.  Increasing soil fertility has a positive domino effect and the act of making soil more alive holds answers to some of the most vexing environmental challenges that we face today; including water quality, eco-system and human health issues, and global climate change.

The Reality

My car had broken down for the last time. I waved goodbye as the AAA truck towed my rusting 1993 Pontiac away, one hazard light blinking a jerky farewell.

“I don’t care if it’s crushed into a can. I’ve had it. It’s going to the dump,” I vowed to myself as I stood uncertainly in the waning light outside Bruce’s Auto Maintenance. I had made him rich in the past few years. However, our relationship was about to end, for I had just heard the 14 most horrible words any car owner can hear; “It would be more expensive to fix this car than to buy another one.”

I was still in shock. I stared down at my feet standing on the black asphalt. How was I going to get home? It had been so long since I had walked in the city. I was used to being in my car.

I knew I had to buy another one. Quickly. Cars have always represented freedom to me. Like most Americans, I eat, drink, listen to music, sing, hug, and kiss in cars. When I have a car, I feel independent. My car had been my second home. It was interior decorated with seat covers, pendants hanging from the mirror, air fresheners, and back rests. On the outside, it wore bumper stickers that told people what my opinions were. After my car’s demise, I felt like I was missing a part of my body. How was I going to get to work on Monday? Or to the gym on Tuesday? I began to panic. I started walking down the street vaguely recalling that there was a bus system in this town. That meant there had to be a bus stop somewhere. I wandered past stores I had never looked at before. Traveling at 40 miles an hour doesn’t give you much time to notice what is on either side of the road. 

Poem

My neighbor thinks that she owns a bird

says she owns him

That his beating heart and trembling body

belong to her.

I’ve seen his soul leave,

his excitement grow,

when birds who fly

wait outside the cage

to speak gentle bird wildness with him.

The metal nest is hers,

the plastic perch

the food from a box

he doesn’t have to look for or find.

It’s always there,

the small round dish

the saucer of water.

In the mirror on the side

he can see how proud he is

for company.

He sits, mostly singing

loudly, just before the sun slips forward and back.

Greets the light and dark equally

with delicate bits of song

which sound like lace

and how the purest heart would sing.

And once,

during a graceful pause

his voice filled the air

calling the sun to appear.

Reminding me

that it takes immeasurable moments

of sunrises and falls

to create wisdom.

To accept closed doors

and still,

to sing.

by Jill Cloutier

THE NURDLE

It was raining when I met the nurdle.  I was out taking a walk.  Everyone else must have been inside, staying dry.  The rain fell in a silent, steady drizzle, tapering off from its previous downpour.  As I walked, I saw a lot of debris washing down the sides of the street.  The stream of litter seemed endless.  Leaves, candy wrappers, cigarette butts, pieces of dirty Styrofoam, all bobbed its way toward the storm drain.  Once inside, it would be washed to a creek and then to the ocean.

It was quiet.  I enjoyed the silence of the usually busy city.  Then, I heard its voice, the voice that would change my life.

A New Dream for Naples on the Gaviota Coast

Foreclosure is not a joyful word and usually conjures up images of struggling homeowners trying to hold onto their most prized possession.  But, to see the word foreclosure paired with the proposed development site at Naples on the Gaviota Coast was a cause for celebration for many in the environmental and ecology movements.

A biological hot spot, where Northern and Southern Mediterranean plant communities meet, Naples is the last stretch of undeveloped coastline in Southern California.  For years this beautiful site has been a battleground between environmentalists who believe in preservation of the land and developers who want to turn nature into dollar bills.

What Can Goldman Sachs CEO Lloyd Blankfein Learn From a Worm?

After reading the small (and beautiful) book, Slow Money by Woody Tasch, I believe that Blankfein and other heavyweights in the “Too Big to Fail” financial sector might be well-advised to carefully observe, take note of, and even hang out with some earthworms. 

Hail to Kale!

“Tell me what you eat, I’ll tell you who you are.” ~French Gourmand Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

Hail to Kale!

I’ve always liked kale, liked it a lot, but, since September, my feelings for this non-heading leafy green cabbage have blossomed into love and it’s all because of a recipe I read in Edible Santa Barbara Magazine for ‘Kale Chips’.

My relationship with kale started in my first garden 13 years ago, when the Red Russian Kale that I grew never stopped growing, The seed packet claimed that kale was a biennial, but the seeds that I planted didn’t know that. They grew from one season to the next, faithfully producing an endless supply of luscious leafy greens.  Sautéed, steamed, baked in casseroles; when I ate kale, I knew that I was getting Vitamin C and K, folic acid, beta carotene, and calcium.  For years, I appreciated kale, but now, thanks to the recipe below, I’m crazy about it.