Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Unplug Your Microwave

          I'm giving myself a crash course in sustainable/green/organic living.  I'm gobbling up all the information I can find.  I've taken out about 17 books on these topics from the library, and I must say, some of my favorites are the baby books.  They're designed for moms-to-be as a way to raise your baby happy and healthy, but I find that their broad focus is exactly what you need when you're just getting started.  However, I am totally paranoid that people who see me reading them think I'm pregnant.  Not a thought I'd like to get around.  I actually find myself hiding the books from my boyfriend so he doesn't get worried.

          But, "What did I lean today?" you might ask.  Well while I was reading Green Baby by Susannah Marriott, I learned everything from the basics of organic foods to how to diaper a baby using cloth diapers.  But what's stuck with me is: unplug your microwave when not in use.  It's not going to save a ton of power, but, my microwave's only function is pretty much the clock.  Sometimes I reheat a meal or melt some butter, but I probably only use it once a week-- tops.  In the same vein, turn off your printers your computers, whatever.  Don't leave stuff running.  We all know not to leave the lights on, let's work to not leave anything on.  It's not like I'm telling you to live off a wind-up alarm clock or hand crank flashlights... but it would save some energy.

Change of Plan...?

          It's starting to look like some of my problems are solved.  Unfortunately, it means I will only get to play in the dirt for then next week, over Spring Break.  My seeds should arrive Thursday via UPS in Hanson (AKA "home", like the real don-to-earth where I came from and where I'm going type home).  Friday I'll be driving to home from Alfred (AKA "school" or "home"  depending on the time of year).  You see how this can get confusing?

          So when I get home (probably more accurately, on Monday)  I'll get to plant my seeds and they'll get to grow up all happy in a nice toasty greenhouse (I think).  So I'll plant them and then let them go.  Straight into the hands of my happy mother.  She'll take it from there and, with a little help from Marsha, my little seeds should poke up their little heads all happy and healthy and just waiting for me to put them in my nice homey ground when I get back again.

          I suppose that in the meantime I will just keep reading and share other green tidbits with you all.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

The Beginning

          It all started with this little nagging urge.  A nudge in my gut that said, "Hey, Sara.  Cows are cool."  All of a sudden, I found myself on my local library's online catalog, reserving books on small scale farming, as well as some on going green, going organic,preserving,  and gardening.

          Now, remember, I wanted to learn how to focus on small scale farming, but what but what showed up at my library?  Canning for a New Generation by Liana Krissoff and Grow Great Grub by Gayla Trail.  Half a lifeguard shift got me through Canning's informational sections, so I (reluctantly) moved on to Grow Great Grub

          By the end of the day I was hooked.  I wanted to plant and play in the dirt, start composting in my backyard, the whole deal.  I started looking at burpee.com and envisioning how great food from the garden could be (mind you, I don't eat vegetables).  At first I was only thinking of food to be preserved-- some raspberries and strawberries for jam, cucumbers for pickling, and tomatoes.  But it quickly turned into planning my family's summer vegetable garden.
My entire life, we have always had a vegetable garden.  My dad was always happy to allow my brother and I to have our own little patch (3x5 or so)  to grow whatever we picked out.  I remember helping out at the local greenhouse, and later working with my mom in that same greenhouse where she rented a table.  We would order seeds from Burpee's catalog, getting some Big Boy tomatoes, cucumbers, and delphiniums, and whatever else struck our fancy.  Then we would work with Marsha (the greenhouse owner) to start the seeds, transplant them to larger and larger pots, harden them off, and finally take the plants home and get them in the ground.  Unfortunately, as I got older, I lost interest in the experience.  I started working on Saturday mornings (our traditional greenhouse day) and was no longer able to help out.  At the same time, my mother got busier and eventually stopped going to the greenhouse.  We continued to have a vegetable garden every summer, but it became my father's responsibility.  All of our plants were bought at the local garden center, but they were still wonderful.

          But this winter, I got that urge.  I wanted it all.  I missed the smell of the dirt, the soft smoothness of the seed starting mix, and the humidity of the greenhouse in the middle of February.  I wanted to start from scratch again.  Not only that, I wanted to follow through-- canning and preserving, and even harvesting seeds from the last of the produce.
So I jumped.  I ordered a whole bunch of seeds from burpee.com, selecting only heirloom varieties so that I can harvest the seeds.  I tried to get the most organic seeds I could.  I bought seed starter trays.  Now, here I sit, waiting for my seeds to arrive.
There are just a few problems with this plan.
  1. I live in an apartment, with no south facing window.
  2. I am far too broke to buy grow lights and pay that electric bill.
  3. If my seeds don't germinate, I'm screwed.
  4. I'm still in college.  Five hundred miles from home.
  5. Spring Break is next week, so I need the seeds to get here BEFORE I leave.  Otherwise, they'll never germinate on time.
  6. I'm trying to grow my seeds in an apartment in Growing Zone 5, but I need them to be ready for Zone 6, a.k.a a warmer climate and earlier summer.
  7. Did I mention I'm 500 miles from home?  I have to drive these seedlings back just in time to plant!
          But, it has begun.  I'm committed.  And I probably should be committed to an institution.  Next year, I'll do it right and raise my plants in the greenhouse, but this year?  This is the year of the experiment.