Instead of Preventing Floods, We Should Simply Control Where They Happen

The following is an Op-Ed I wrote for a class assignment, and subsequently revised with feedback from my professor. 

            It seems odd in this period of drought to discuss the state of our flood management policies. Drought, however, is just another natural state of the hydrology of our water systems. Water levels rise and fall with the seasons, and though there is a natural equilibrium to the ebb and flow, impending climate change will only cause the differences to be more drastic.[1] Current flood management policies try to prevent floods, but if we let the rivers “do their thing,” but control the location, we would save the government (and our citizens) money and improve the ecological conditions of our rivers.

            The more we channel and our rivers and build up our levees, the worst flooding will get. In light of this, it’s important to address the way our government manages these inundations. Through a complex system of dams and levees, the Army Corps of Engineers channels our rivers such that they cannot spread into the vast majority of their flood plains. Ideally, these walls would keep the river contained, bur realistically, the higher we build the walls all along the river, the higher the water levels rise. Levees, then, can only be seen as temporary. They are destined to be overtopped or breached.[2]

            In acknowledging that there will be great floods that spite our best efforts, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) put in place the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP). Residents in participating areas (ones that have been mapped appropriately) can purchase flood insurance coverage. Such policies can grant them up to $250,000 worth of building damage coverage. Residents that live in the base level floodplain—what’s known as the 100 year flood plain—are required to purchase the coverage if they have a loan that’s backed by the federal mortgage system.[3]

            The problems with this system are numerous. First of all, not everyone in the flood plain opts into the insurance program, even if they are in the 100 year flood plain. When the areas inevitably flood, an increased amount of disaster relief is required. As a result, the NFIP has borrowed over $19 billion from the U.S. Treasury. Floods are the most expensive disasters in the world. [4]

            Why do so few people opt into flood insurance, even though they are warned of the risk? Because the risk isn’t always apparent. The Corps of Engineers builds a system of levees that should not fail, and then FEMA uses terms like “100 year flood” which imply a lower risk than exists in actuality. Residents simply think that the likelihood of a flood is so improbable, that the insurance is superfluous.[5]

            Since our system currently assumes that people living or developing in the 100 year flood plain will purchase flood insurance policies, building codes intended to mitigate flood damage are tied to them. But many of the buildings within the flood plain are not flood proofed. Old buildings that were built in the flood plains before the NFIP was put into place can be grandfathered in and, despite their higher risk, pay the same rate for their flood insurance policies as new constructions that follow code.[6]

            Thus, we have an inappropriately dense concentration of development ill suited to withstand floods. This results in significant payouts from the government, such that buildings are rebuilt in the same way, only to be paid for again at the next flood. Even if these buildings were constructed properly, it is the development itself that is problematic. When we build in the floodplains, we’re not just putting ourselves at risk, but we’re causing an exponentially greater rate of damage to water ecosystems than we would otherwise. The more we build in the flood fringe, the more displaced the flood waters are when they come, and the higher the waters will rise.[7]

            The root of our flooding problem is that we see it as a problem. In fact, flooding is only a problem when it intersects with human development. With this perspective, levees are not just built for urban areas, they are also built for rural areas. The whole river system becomes channeled, which raises the water level and increases the velocity of the water, so that when the waters get loose, and they do every year, the damage is far greater than it ever would have been if we had never meddled at all.[8]

            At this point, to shift from a system of flood prevention to flood management seems like a daunting, expensive task. In light of the high costs of flooding and levee construction, however, it is certainly financially prudent to consider a more long term, sustainable fix. Instead of viewing floods as problematic, we should see them as what they are: natural processes that rejuvenate soil nutrients, water tables, and create critical habitats for endangered species.[9]

            If our government bought up the land that floods the most frequently, particularly upstream and downstream from major urban developments, and then restored it as closely as possible to natural riparian systems, we could prevent urban flooding while allowing rural flooding. Natural systems, especially wetlands, have unique ecological benefits and flood water retention capabilities. If we allow the river to flood, particularly upstream, it will decrease the flood pulse, slow down the velocity of the waters, and lower the risk of downstream flooding.[10]

            By ensuring that floods will happen, but managing the location, we decrease the likelihood that our developed flood plains will be at risk. This alters the necessity of flood insurance and levees. The inevitability of floods will also force residents of flood plains to accept that floods can happen, that they should happen, and, ideally, would discourage more intense development of the floodplain that is allowed by our current system.

---

[1] N Poff, “The Natural Flow Regime,” BioScience. 47, no. 11 (1997): 771.

[2] Ibid., 774.

[3] E Michel-Kerjan, “Redesigning Flood Insurance,” Science 333, no. 6041 (2011): 408.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid., 409.

[6] Ibid., 408.

[7] Raymond J. Burby, “Flood Insurance and Floodplain Management: the US Experience,” Environmental Hazards 3, no. 3-4 (2001): 112.

[8] Thomas Birkland et al., “River Ecology and Flood Hazard Mitigation,” Natural Hazards Review 4, no. 1 (2003): 48.

[9] R. A Haeuber and W. K Michener, “Natural Flood Control: To Control Flooding, We Need to Work With the Forces of Nature Instead of Simply Trying to Eliminate Them,” Issues in Science and Technology 15, no. 1 (1998): 74.

[10] Birkland et al., “River Ecology and Flood Hazard Mitigation,” 52.

What happens when you no longer live in the EcoHouse

I started this blog out of a desire to keep track of my lifestyle in the Macalester EcoHouse, during the academic year of 2010 - 2011.

Then I moved out.

Needless to say (due to the OVERWHELMING gap of time where I didn't write anything), I didn't keep up this blog. (for my attempt at a study abroad blog, see megabroadinparis.blogspot.com)
I also didn't really keep up with living sustainably.
Over the summer I lived with housemates who were not accustomed to my way of life, and so in an effort to avoid conflict, I gave up a lot of my new habits.
I went abroad to Paris, and lived as a Parisian would, but I'm not sure that I put much thought into my efforts to be sustainable.
Then I returned to the United States, lived with the same people as I had in the EcoHouse (plus one more person) and found that without the structure provided to us by the house, we were no longer sustainable residents. We had no worms, no energy efficient appliances, no kill-a-watt guilting us into remembering to turn off lights, no compost bin, no paper stone, no solar panels. We were just ordinary.

As the months went by, I felt the guilt for not keeping up with sustainable living. I was so busy with my classes and internship, that I could barely take the time to do laundry, let alone make sure I was being efficient in my use of water. Sophomore year I had tried to think about every one of my actions, to consider their impacts, and to be deliberate in my life.
Junior year, I just tried to stay on top of things.

I'm now in a position of privilege where I can give this blog, and life, another shot.

This is no longer a blog about a student given the tools to live sustainably, but about someone trying to do the right thing, with a limited budget, and with few resources available. I hope to provide food for thought, whether literally (through recipes) or figuratively (through issues I've faced), and generally just be an interesting writer.

Here are my goals for the next few months:
To enter the bike commuter world
To start an herb garden at work
To jump start the box of worms I'm taking care of
To visit the farmer's market every other week

Thank you for being a reader, and for following along in this quest.

Contact me with questions, articles, recipes, suggestions, and jokes. 

Out of EcoHouse

It's been almost a year since I started this blog.

Friday evening I checked out of the EcoHouse and moved in to my summer home, where I'll be living with two other Macalester students and my boyfriend. It was bitter sweet, saying goodbye to everyone. But I know that this is going to be a fantastic summer, and next semester will be a fantastic experience. I'll be studying abroad in Paris, France, interning with the Ministère d'Ecologie, Energie, et Development Durable. Essentially, this is the department of Ecology, Energy, and Sustainable Development. I'm incredibly excited for this opportunity.

When we left the house, we left it spotlessly clean (thank you very much Julia). Everything put away, everything empty of our things, I realized that the EcoHouse is just a house. It's the people inside of it that make it special, that make the experience unique. We are the ones who make the house sustainable, not just the bits of plaster and steel that hold the house together.

I'm very excited for next year's house. I believe that they will continue to add to this house and give back even more than we did.

After moving in to my new house, I realized it was void of many essential things, such as soap. I decided to make a target run. Off of the shelves, I pulled the familiar things that I've gotten used to buying. 7th generation products, biodegradable soap, and then... a swiffer. I'm not entirely clear on the eco-friendliness of a swiffer, but it's likely questionable at best. For example you're using a disposable sheet to sweep, which doesn't necessarily biodegrade and therefore adds to the mountains of waste we bury every year. But you can use it to mop the floor with a wet pad, which therefore uses far less water than actual mopping... But this isn't my house (I'm only living here for the summer) and I needed an easy way to clean, so I excused this purchase.

Am I going to keep up my ecofriendly habits? I certainly hope so. But I haven't set up a compost pile yet (there isn't a good place in this yard for a chicken wire one, and I can't afford a plastic one. I cringe every time I throw out an egg shell. Taking short showers and turning off lights is just common sense, I have to pay my own utilities now.

This is going to be a challenging summer for my sustainable habits. But I think it will add a new flavor to this blog, one that has been pretty preachy, will now be a lot more about my successes and failures.

Hello Spring!

Ice cream TRUCKS? Why don't you go ahead and make petroleum sprinkles?? Let's go ahead and applaud this guy!

Hello Spring!

Spring Break

So for Spring Break I went back to Cleveland. I drove, which is cheaper and I think somewhat better for the environment than flying but I'm feeling guilty for the carbon all the same. I love avoiding Chicago by driving through the heart of Illinois because there are fewer tolls and it is so much prettier! There are a lot of wind farms. For about 20 minutes along 1-39, turbines dominate the landscape. I took lots of pictures and will post them to this blog once Mickey returns and I can borrow his camera cord.

Things have changed slightly since I last wrote about being sustainable at home. Not to say that my parents have had a huge change of heart and are now doing everything I do. I wouldn't expect that at all. While they're still not composting, they have decided to sell my mother's minivan in exchange for a new Prius. While hybrids are only a bandaid on the sustainability issue of cars, they are still preferable to traditional automobiles. I am very proud of my parents for that decision. It's also a big deal that they're selling the minivan. My mother had been considering getting a prius and keeping the minivan for when she needed to haul something or make a trip to college, but my argument that it is cheaper to simply rent a minivan for the few times she needs it took hold. My parents will continue to be a two car family!! Also, I was suprised to find one morning that my dad hadn't left for work, his car was still in the garage. After searching the house for him and finding that he was, in fact, gone, I texted to ask where he was. He'd taken the train to work.

!!

My heart soars like a hawk. My father is now one of the few people in Shaker Heights actually using the rapid in the way that the original developers of the city intended. It's cheaper than continually filling the car with gas and paying for speeding tickets (which apparently accompany owning a 6 gear manual Acura TL S-style that drives like a dream).


Cleveland itself is also a lot more sustainable than I'd previously given it credit. Over the summer I learned that the city was in the process of setting up an urban farm, and this break I learned that they have a Carshare program very similar to the Twin Cities' Hour Car. Check it out: http://www.mycitywheels.com/ Programs like this are great for people who can't afford a car, but need to use one occasionally when public transportation isn't enough. 


Who knows, with so much sustainable development occurring in Cleveland, I may end up returning there after college! Well. Maybe.

Majora Carter

Yesterday I had the amazing opportunity to go hear Majora Carter speak at the U of M campus. If you aren't familiar with who she is, she is a grass roots activist working to revitalize the South Bronx. She works with (who she calls) "America's most expensive citizens," those who are on welfare, who are repeatedly in and out of prison, and who are highly dependent on government aid. She is working to create "green collar jobs." She has built beautiful parks, is building a green way, bringing green roofs to the Bronx, and helping it to recover from the decades of waste and abuse it has received from the state of New York. She believes very strongly that you don't need to move out of your neighborhood to live in a better one, and helps people to make that possible. If you would like to know more about her efforts, visit www.majoracartergroup.com

Us

Last Friday was Founder's Day, and as such, all of us got dressed up for the dance. Mickey and I had to sing and were heading out when we realized that it was a photo opportunity. So here it is for all of you who actually follow this blog! The 2010 - 2011 EcoHouse!!

 From left to right: Maars, Julia, Meg (Me!), and Mickey

A True EcoHouse

Just thought I would share this other EcoHouse I found on the internet today:
True EcoHouse 

If you have the time and the stamina, I dare you to build your own!

Another semester

Falling back into EcoHouse life is like falling back into a chair cushion I haven't sat upon in a while. It feels right and it's comfortable, yet some of the familiarity is lost. There is a moment of trying to remember all of the things I do differently here than I do with my parents. I know where things are, yet I'm looking for things that are from my other home. The light hits the house differently, and rooms are dimmer and strange times. New objects and items have found their way into EcoHouse since I left. There is a piano where there once was a chair, and that chair where there once was a different chair, now in a place where there once was no chair at all. Posters have been changed and lamps have been moved. There is a rug spread on the floor, with flowers and swirls of different colors, reminding me of the hippies from the 60's who once attempted our same lifestyle. Mickey made thermally insulated curtains that now hang keeping the cold out from our giant leaky window.

Suddenly I stand upon the precipice of the last half of my year in the EcoHouse. In March new students will apply and be accepted and it will be our turn to decide what we leave behind and move on. And that's the thing about sustainability. The house must go on, and it will go on without us. The future iterations of this house will build upon what we leave behind. 

Over winter break a statistics student did a survey comparing the energy usage of the Japan house to the EcoHouse. Not surprisingly, this house uses about half the energy. What was incredibly surprising was that our iteration of the EcoHouse has used about twice as much energy as any house before us. SHOCK!! We thought we'd been doing so well! 

Well, we were. Sort of. Our habits are strong, and we're good about minimizing our energy usage, but we (I) made one crucial mistake. We turned on the dehumidifier. I had read online that if you dry clothes in the basement you should have a dehumidifier running. Apparently this is only really true in the summer, and still should only be done while the clothes are drying. Fairly new dehumidifiers are moisture sensing and will turn on when needed, but the old (energy sucking) one in the EcoHouse basement was not quite so fancy. And BOY did it use energy. Since we turned it off, our neutral (mid day, refrigerator fan off, nothing running) energy usage is about .25 - .30 kW (according to our TED). With it on, our average was about .70 - .90 kW. Needless to say, it's off now. 


I'm sure after a comparison of next semester's data our house will be redeemed.

Being green at home

The EcoHouse itself is not particularly exciting, if you look at is as merely a house. It was built in the 50s (most likely on an empty lot that was sold off from a neighboring house). When the project was started, they added insulation, fixed up the kitchen, painted, replaced the roof, added fluorescent light bulbs, replaced a few mirrors, put in a new toilet, and added a pre-warmer to the water heater that is powered by sunlight. On the surface, it could almost be seen as a basic remodel. Of course it is the culture of the students inhabiting it that makes the house special. 

Before Julia, Maars, Mickey, and I all moved in together, we didn't do many of the things we do now. I think I can safely say that none of us composted in our dorms. We couldn't really cook that often if at all because of the limited kitchen space and lack of a freezer or large fridge. So we couldn't put into practice many of our energy saving techniques through our current food consumption practices. None of us had cars on campus, so we were taking the bus, biking, and walking like we do now. I'm sure we all turned off lights, but did we take shorter showers? We weren't recording every bit of energy we were using. We weren't really in control of how warm our rooms were, but if my house-mates old dorm rooms were anything like mine, they were WAY too hot. 

Coming together in this house, we were able to start over. We could form entirely new habits in this house that was ours. We've figured out how to live with each others different cleanliness requirements. We've been good about casually reminding each other to turn off lights, to unplug appliances when we're done, to bring the reusable bags to the grocery store. We have weekly house meetings to talk about our highs and lows, positive observations and negative observations. We've became a true community, and I truly feel like we're finding away of life that is better, cleaner, and healthier than other options. 

So about those other options. 

I could beat myself up for all of the bad habits I've slipped back into being away from EcoHouse, but I'd like to look at this as more of a learning experience than a relapse. The first thing I did wrong is I flew home. Now driving wouldn't have been better, I believe it's about the same amount of fuel used. I could have taken a train, but that was going to take me a whole day and be MORE expensive than taking a plane. So, I made the economic, efficient choice, and took the plane. If it had been cheaper, I absolutely would have taken the train, time commitment and all. It was a promise I made myself. But the average American definitely wouldn't. 

Coming home to a house that was also built in the 50s on a spare lot at a glance seems like it would be the same. Shaker Heights is a street car neighborhood, like Mac Groveland, though a little more recent. Actually, my house is a short walk away from a rapid stop (the train in Cleveland), about 75 yards. I could easily take public transit into the city and get around. Our house is bigger though, a 5 bedroom house with 3 baths and two half baths, a full finished basement, large expansive rooms, little to no insulation. Having little insulation is not that uncommon for a house like this, except that my parents recently spent a whole lot of money remodeling this house. We moved here last May, after selling off my old childhood home. They were downsizing (a sustainable choice) but standing in my closet will tell you how much money they're losing to their heating bill because they didn't add insulation as their first step.

My parents added quite a few energy star rated appliances to their kitchen but they have electric ovens instead of gas ovens, which are less energy efficient than the later. They have a front load washer and a dryer with an energy setting and moisture sensing, two purchases that I recommended in the sustainable energy guide I made for Frogtown Neighborhood Association. Our cabinets were even made locally (by Amish people!). Of course, there were no materials used in remodeling this house that were reused, unlike the EcoHouse. They haven't redone the roof, it wasn't necessary, but I bet my parents won't put in a steel roof, even with the stone covering. It won't stop me from making a strong argument for it, however. 

None of this really has anything to do with me. I didn't have any input in the remodeling decisions we made (otherwise we'd have paperstone counters instead of granite). As it is, the house is gorgeous. I'm not going to pretend I'm disappointed in them, even if they didn't make the most sustainable choices. The fact is it's a challenge to modify someone else's lifestyle. Actually I wouldn't recommend it, environmental mission or not. So trying to put my new habits into my old routine was like trying to shove a slightly warped peg into a hole that had always fit perfectly before. 

Take my shopping routine for instance. I'd never really thought twice about where I buy my food until this break when I tried to bring a little EcoHouse to Shaker. My side of Cleveland seems not to have any CO-OPs like Mississippi Market. My dad believes there's one on the West Side, but the distance I would have to drive to just pick up groceries makes it not worth it. My family eats way more eat than I do at school and we eat all kinds. Regardless of whether it's a CAFO product or not. 

I mentioned starting a compost pile to my parents and they said they wouldn't ever keep it up or use the finished product (Mom likes Miracle Grow just fine for her flowers). The same amount of people live in this house as the one at school, but we have a much larger refrigerator and a second one downstairs. I tried making vegetable stock for my parents. I saved all the vegetable scraps for a week and used the broth to make a few soups. My mom mentioned she might do it again, but didn't seem too excited about regularly saving all of her scraps. They take up a lot of room in the freezer. 

So what is a girl to do? Find simple ways to help my parents stay in their same routine but make more sustainable choices. For instance, when our sunroom roof started leaking in the middle of the night, we agreed that if ice-dams were forming in the gutters, it was time to insulate the house. Dad even took my advice on adding weatherstripping and plastic covering to the windows. When it's an argument like that, it's hard to find a flaw. Other things are trickier. Such as convincing my parents that even though small appliances don't use THAT much energy when plugged in, unplugging all of them when not in use makes a pretty big difference. It's hard to prove that, so I can't get them to change.

I'm not going to bash my head against the wall and stubbornly keep pushing my parents in a different direction. They're still good people. They recycle almost everything they can, and they don't even throw batteries in the trash. They dispose of them properly. Mom's always been a lover of the farmers' market, and insistent that we turn lights off. Unless I find a good rebate for them, they aren't likely to install a solar panel on their roof, but then again, I can't blame them. Without the rebate, PV solar panels aren't likely to pay themselves back before needing to be replaced, and Cleveland probably doesn't get enough sun anyway. Each step they take is a step, and it's good, even if it is slow movement. There is no such thing as being too eco friendly, but there is such thing as being over zealous. My parents will never live the way I intend to, but they don't live the way their parents did either.

When I move out of the EcoHouse, I'm not concerned that my habits will slip. I know it will be harder to maintain them, if only because the EcoHouse can serve as training wheels to those learning how to live sustainably. But starting over makes it easier to implement an entirely different routine. Sure I'll have to make my own worm bin, I'll probably have to weatherproof my own windows, and I'll certainly need to pay even more attention to how much electricity and gas I use (utilities are pricey!) but I'll still be living deliberately. As long as I'm making my own decisions, I know I'll be able to make good choices.

Vermiculture

I've grown so used to using vermiculture that I almost forget it's different.
Well no, none of my friends compost with worms that I know of. But it's a fairly low maintenance way of reducing your waste.

Worms are incredible. They break down food just like a normal compost pile would, the difference is you can easily do it in your house without a smell (or a mess). At EcoHouse we have stacking worm trays. This way we can shift the trays as the top one fills. The vertical orientation also allows water to seep to the bottom where we collect it in a jar. This worm tea is a more effective fertilizer than miracle grow, plus it's natural. When the compost is finished, you sift out the worms and add the compost to your garden.

Worms eat all the regular household scraps you might compost, but they also eat shredded paper, dryer lint, egg cartons, wood chips, etc. Those carbon heavy materials provide a nice bedding for the worms. Having a bedding is important because it provides the worms food, a nice place to live, and it keeps your bin from smelling. We use peet moss, but we also add other carbon heavy materials so that we don't use too much of the peet moss (it's expensive and a limited resource).
If you're looking to set up your own bins, you can either get stacking trays like ours (Worm Factory, available online at amazon.com or if you're in the cities, Eggplant Urban Farm Supply on Selby Ave) or make your own out of Tupperware. It's imperative that the worms have the ability to move from tray to tray, and that it's easy for you to lift out the trays so you can fork through and supply oxygen to the soil.


For more information, we recommend reading the book "Worms eat my garbage." It's been a great resource for us, plus it gets into more of the complicated worm composting management strategies.

Living Deliberately

In 1845, Thoreau went into the woods.



In 2010, I went into a residential neighborhood that happens to have a lot of big trees.



I won't try to pretend like living in the EcoHouse is remotely similar to Thoreau living in his cottage. Though similarly square in shape, (well the EcoHouse may be a little longer than it is wide), that about sums of the similarities in our structures. Plus, the EcoHouse has far more weather-stripping and insulation than Thoreau's cottage. I certainly hope we won't feel the wind through the walls come winter.

Thoreau has been on my mind first because of a blurb in Blessed Unrest about his social activism. More recently because of a reading I had to do for one of my Environmental History classes. In the section of Walden, Where I lived, and What I lived for, Thoreau talks about how he wished to live deliberately. As I read those words, I realized that the intention embodied everything I had been feeling about living in the EcoHouse.

When we first moved in, we spoke about all the things we wanted to do and try this year. All the things we wanted to learn to make ourselves instead of buy. There were habits we would need to learn: shorter showers, composting, tending the worms, turning off lights, buying different soaps... but we knew we could do them with a little effort.

We all got used to whole grain bread. I'm not sure if that kind of flour is any more sustainable than white flour (perhaps less processing?) but it's healthier for you so we agreed to make the switch. We buy from a co-op when we can, but we buy at Rainbow or Target if it's cheaper there-- we are still poor college students. I've started going to the Farmer's market every weekend to buy eggs and the last of the fall harvest. We take out the composting after it's been full... for 3 days. We have a separate jar for the worms so we don't over feed them. We freeze vegetable ends and scraps and when we have enough, we make vegetable stock, and then compost the remains. One less thing to buy, far tastier soup.

We're living deliberately. We're making choices to live healthier, and better. Maybe every now and then we buy into the green washing fads (after all, Caribou does guarantee that their coffee is fair trade AND rainforest safe! couldn't hurt, right?) but what started off as having to be a conscious decision has now become second nature. We're almost two months in. Now we're looking out as to how we can help other people make their homes EcoHouses too.
When I tell people I live in the EcoHouse, they usually ask what makes it Eco. As I started to get into the spiel we've been asked to relay about how it was renovated-- "Oh so cool! So everything's state of the art??"
Well no. There are a lot of "new" things in the EcoHouse (I really love pointing out our solar powered water heating). But a lot of it is old, and that's what makes it Eco. So if you already have a house, just changing your habits slightly can make your house an EcoHouse too.
That's part of what I'm working on at my internship. I'm making a guide not only on how to renovate houses to be more sustainable, but how current residents can make their house more energy efficient (and thus "greener") by making a few easy changes.
Coming up on the EcoHouse calendar is making a pumpkin pie… from an actual pumpkin. Pictures to follow soon. Also, I have pictures from my cheese making adventure that will find their way here soon.

How did I get here?

Today was my first day of classes. Actually I just had one class, so today was my first day of a class. This class is American Urban Environmental History, taught by Chris Wells. Aside from the fact that this is an *awesome* class (apparently a redundant statement) it fulfills a couple graduation requirements, part of my core for my major, and potentially part of my Urban Studies Concentration. The academic and practical reasons for my taking this class are apparently clear. But the question he asked us in class today wasn't to understand those reasons; it was the more intangible mentality behind motivation. It was to understand us as people, not as students. I wish I'd gotten that immediately, but it's provided me some inspiration for thought. To dwell upon something that has been bothering me for a while.

How did I get here?

It's a question that is asked of me on almost every tour I give, by every freshman I met in the last week, by my peers, by my friends from home, by my professors, and now by me. A lot of times it's easy to put myself on autopilot. To assume a character and just go, feeling compromised at every turn as I make decisions for someone else's rational and not my own. What took me to Costa Rica the summer after my junior year was not an interest to improve my Spanish-- I didn't, after all, speak it yet-- but being turned down by a scholarship Arabic program in Egypt which I was interested in because of my desire to travel and potentially study international relations.

            What I experienced in Costa Rica, however, was not the colors and bright experience I expected. It was a much darker, richer, and sweeter culture than I ever knew. To understand this, you must know that from my earliest memories the places I have lived have been in pristine neighborhoods of prim suburbanites who get together on the rare occasion to dine together and chat about politics. The places I have lived have been full of middle class people who belonged to country clubs and went skiing in the winter. Kids rode their bikes without fear of dangerous strangers, hopscotch games and chalk drawings littered the sidewalks, and squirrels darted up and down the elm and maple trees on the tree lawns. Residents of the Twin Cities would recognize this as Edina. Clevelanders would recognize this as Shaker. With the exception of three years of my education, I have always attended public school. I felt as if I’d worked for my education, instead of my daddy buying it for me like those spoiled rich kids who lived out in the far reaches of the developments.

I had a spoiled childhood, however. My mental status was so innocent that it surprises me that I ever learned anything about the world. My parents didn’t actively shelter me, yet since they did nothing to teach me of the dark world I really lived in, I never ventured out of the safety of the bubble that I had been placed in. I knew of war, to be sure. Yet in my mind, war was something that had died out ages before. My brother and I would take toy fighter planes and shoot at each other, we had beautiful death scenes that would last for ten minutes, only so that we could be resuscitated and die again. It never occurred, at least not to me, that such tragedies and atrocities were still very much a reality. We went on playing these games until we moved on and I outgrew them.

Needless to say I grew up from the little tomboy who loved to fight with her brothers and shoot dart guns. I was smart, and I wanted to learn as many languages as possible. I wanted power. I had delusions of grandeur, that I could someday change the world with my influences. Going to Costa Rica knocked me back into place. I lived in a house that had a dirt floor, that had cockroaches in the shower, with people that were so poor they could barely make rent, and yet opened their arms to me. They threw huge parties and fed everyone who came by. They wanted to know about you. To hear your stories. But best of all, they knew how to sit together in the evening in silence, enjoying the place around them. They were poor, by American standards. But they had so much more than I did.

I realized that to instigate policy, I had to be able to understand the symptoms that arose from the fundamental problems. I wanted to be active in a community, to volunteer, and to experience. I decided that I would take a gap year in order to do something different with my life. At that point I played with many ideas of what I wanted to do. At first I wanted to return to Costa Rica and help out with the English program at the local technical school. I changed my mind, however, deciding that maybe it would be better for me to work locally. I thought about getting an internship with a law firm, or a small business, but that was the old me, not this new idea I had of myself. It was at that point I called Dr. Scott Miller.

Two years ago I was still that naïve little girl who believed she could change the world in a year. I wanted to help people, and I still do. I was so ignorantly confident that people would be willing to receive what I had to offer. So the first day I walked into Cleveland School of the Arts, I made sure I looked good. I wanted to reflect the person I considered myself to be, a smart girl from the suburbs who wanted to learn more about the world around her. My hair was blow-dried and straightened. My nails were perfectly manicured. I wore a tunic shirt and black leggings with neat clark flats on my feet. I wanted to look professional. I was there to teach and be taught. I was dressed how I imagined a student teacher at Shaker (my alma-mater) would have dressed. I tried to look older as well, acknowledging that it would be hard to get respect if the students could tell how young I was.

Looking back now it’s hard to keep from laughing at my naïveté.  The students could not help but laugh at me. They had to listen to me? Someone who was self described as living in a bubble? The boys snickered and made crude comments. The girls rolled their eyes. They didn’t understand me. Who had Dr. Miller brought in this time? The year before they had another student teacher, a 22 year old woman who soon after completing her student teacher requirement decided she did not want to be a teacher.

I sat there smiling while Dr. Miller spoke of me, saying that I was talented in math and could help the students anytime they needed. He encouraged them to use me for tutoring and help. “Oh we’re going to use her,” said one of the boys. I looked up, blushing beet red. Dr. Miller glared at the student. He continued with his introductions, however, not bothering to stop. I rationalized that the comment in and of itself was innocent, it was silly. Before I knew it the students were moving on to their next classes and the juniors and seniors were pouring in.

Looking back on that year, I wouldn’t say that I didn’t learn anything. That’s certainly what I thought immediately after finishing. It was hard, and the hours were ridiculously long. The students often fought against me, and I know I never fully earned their respect. After that year, I felt like it had been a waste, wished I had travelled more, or even just gone to school right away. I hadn’t learned what I had sought out to learn. But I’m not sure I knew what I wanted to learn to begin with. I wanted to know about the things outside of my bubble, as broad of a description as that may be. If nothing else, that time at CSA taught me to be even more self reliant and independent than I was already inclined to be. I no longer felt comfortable asking my parents for money, for help, or for advice.

I didn’t want to be a teacher anymore, nor did I want to major in theater. When I got onto campus, I took one glance at the course schedule for those majoring in International Studies and realized it no longer held much interest for me. I knew I was going to be an Environmental Studies major.

But I’ve jumped ahead! Bear with me as I provide you background information, that for the sake of continuity, belongs here, and not earlier in this reflection. Before I ever applied to go to Egypt and then got put on a plane to Costa Rica, I was really bad at physics. In fact, I got a C in physics freshman year. Senior year, I was given the choice of taking either AP Physics or AP Environmental Science for my science credit, so I opted for the one I had a better chance of passing. The class was a lot more math and science than I expected, but I still (somehow) got an A in the class both semesters and a 5 on the AP exam.

Then I took my gap year, thought about my future, did a lot of reading about Environmentalist movements, finished up at CSA, and left for college.

Now you’re caught up.

I took Environmental Science again my first semester at Macalester. I figured it would be a recap, but it’s also required for an Environmental Studies major. My professor was absolutely phenominal. Though I knew the material, one chapter in my textbook caught my attention immediately. It was a chapter about urban environmentalism. Each chapter of that book usually took me about 2 hours to read but this one I finished in 30 minutes. I was so interested that I actually read some of the suggested readings at the end and wrote every paper from that point forward about Green Urban Development. I was hooked. Being from Cleveland, I never really knew cities could be beautiful. Though of course there is nature in Cleveland, it does not have nearly as many parks and gardens as the Twin Cities, so you’d have to stretch your imagination to call the place beautiful. It’s drab. It’s dirty. And God is it poor. Looking at pictures of the ingenuity and creativity coming out of Berlin, however, one would wonder why the movement hasn’t spread more quickly.

I thought about taking American Environmental History that next semester, but I was told by my ES professor that it was really Chris Wells’ class. That I should wait til he came back from sabbatical. Instead I took Ecology and Science of Renewable Energy-- two natural science courses that would provide a good foundation of understanding. In addition to those classes, I took Intro to Human Geography. I didn’t, at the time, know it would count for my major. I just figured it’d be a nice introduction to Urban Geography (since Intro to Urban Studies wasn’t offered that semester). But that class, in combination with Ecology, led me to begin to view the city instead of being separate from the Environment, as actually being part of a greater system. Humans aren’t separate from nature, we are nature.

Which brings me back, again, to something that happened before I got to Macalester. The second summer of my gap year (the first being after I graduated) I travelled to Tanzania on a mission trip. I was there to look at hospitals, schools, and churches to see where there was opportunity to send over volunteers (stemming from my newfound humanitarianism). I was there with a man who had just graduated from college having before that spent 5 years in the Marines. During one of our many long conversations, he said something that I haven’t been able to shake. He said, “Humans always come first, no matter what.” He was talking about policy, but it didn’t sit right with me. It’s that long debate of pitting humans against nature. Either or. Would you save a hundred tigers if it meant that 50 humans would die? It’s a hard question to answer. It’s uncomfortable to say the least. But if you view the system wholeistically, as an Ecosystem—encorporating every organism and inorganic components as well, then saving the rainforest will often save more humans than it hurts. If we preserve and take care of our ecosystems, then we are in turn helping ourselves. The ethics of this statement can be debated over and over again, but ultimately, whether God created us or we’re here by coincidence, we are nourished by the same things that other organisms need to survive. The only thing that truly makes us different is the ability to conciously recognize this fact. Doesn’t that make us responsible?

If every ailmant that befalls humans today could ultimately be attributed to our ongoing struggle to control everyting around us, including nature, what would that mean? Humans without clean water because of humans polluting and losing their natural resistance to the organisms that now make us sick. Humans starving for food because their buildings and development has driven away all the game. Humans dying of cancer because their cars pollute the air and infest them with carcinogens. Humans poor because their agroeconomies are built on failing monocultures and they don’t grow any food they can actually eat. If I was a part of the people searching to find a way to negotiate with nature to reestablish harmonious living situations, could I have also found my humanitarian needs filled?

How did I get here?

The decision to apply to live in a sustainably modified house fit in nicely with my interest in Urban green movements, so that, in short, is how I came to the EcoHouse. And how did I get into American Urban Environmental History? Well first and foremost because someone else dropped out of the class and I was first on the wait list, but also because I need to take the course to fufill my major, Chris Wells is teaching it, and it’s an awesome class.

But I wouldn’t have declared the major if it hadn’t been for that chapter I read with that awesome professor who told me to wait to take American Environmental History until Chris Wells came back because it’s “his class” so then I did a little research on what other classes he taught, found American Urban Environmental History, and decided I absolutely had to take it, no matter what, it would fit in my major core it just had to, and declared the Sustainable Development core partially for that reason.

I could go on for about six more pages about the randomness and chance decisions that brought me to this bed I’m sitting on with this laptop before me. I could talk about the millions of other things that make me who I am and have caused me to reapproach my life in an attempt to detach from the material and petty desires that bring me unhappiness. I could talk about my summers at camp in the Vermont mountains breathing in the clean air and losing myself in the woods to feel entirely connected to everything.

Everything is how I got here. A lot of it is why I’m here. But where, in the metaphysical sense of both words, is here?

coffee

I know coffee takes up a lot of gasoline in its transportation...




But I am not giving it up.

Moved in

Somehow I managed to survive the summer and now three out of four of us have moved into the EcoHouse. Already we're filling it with food, finding that incandescent lightbulbs had been put in some of the light fixtures over the summer (gasp!) and rearranging EVERYTHING. 

It's somewhat surreal moving into a house that is partially furnished. In a way, that prevents it from feeling like my own. But at the same time I already feel comfortable lounging on a chair, or browsing the pantry looking for a snack. It's already a bit messy (thought part of that is we're still figuring out where to put things) and already has it's first bouquet of "I'm sorry" flowers-- Minnesota grown, of course.

Slowly bits of ourselves appear, reminding of our old living spaces. Today I finally hung all my posters, but still my floor is strewn with more things longing for a place-- I have yet to loft my bed for storage space. There are posters in the living room that speak of sustainability, others of art exhibitions. Decorated computers on tables and a cast iron pan in the kitchen receiving a treatment. 

It rained for the first time since I've been her last night. Even though the roof has a stone covering, it's made of metal, so each drop was a little louder than I'm used to. I guess it reminded me of camp, so the house now feels a little more familiar. 

Next week I'll be starting my internship with District 7. I'm going to be working on a project of renovating vacant houses to make them more sustainable. Sound a bit familiar? It's a bit of an EcoHouse expansion project. Most of my job will be research based but I'll also attend meetings. 

There's always more unpacking to do so I'll sign off now. Tomorrow is going to be a LONG day...

Cleveland

People who know me like to mock me for the fact that I am from Ohio. And not just from Ohio, Cleveland.

Cleveland is a funny city. Many people are familiar with our playfully comedic (fake) advertisements on youtube. #1 and #2. Both were made by a Cleveland resident who jabs at the fact that Cleveland has been on the way out for about 50 years. People who live here both accept it and reject it in the same breath. I mean, I'm not poor, but at the same time I drive through neighborhoods where stores and homes are closing up on the daily.

So why mention Cleveland in this Eco blog? True, in 2007 our public transportation was named the greatest in the United States by the American Public Transportation Association (to which Cleveland residents would probably do a Scooby-Doo like double take), but from an outside perspective there is nothing green about Cleveland. I mean for God's sake, our river caught fire in 1969 because it was so polluted! We are a manufacturing city-- er, were a manufacturing city, that has poor air quality and coincidentally good healthcare. But on my first day back in the Cle, sitting down in my bunker of a basement (my family moved and are currently cooking on a hotplate in our basement while we redo the kitchen) I noticed on the front page of the Plain Dealer (our local newspaper) an Amish person plowing an abandoned city lot and preparing the soil to be farmed. 

Now what you need to know is that I am like a kid at Christmas when it comes to learning about new green urbanization projects in the US. And to find one in Cleveland when I wasn't even looking for one is like realizing that your parents got you a bicycle even though you didn't tell them that you wanted one. Golly Gee Cleveland, for me?? How did you know? 

Well I would be the most egotistical person in the world if I actually thought that Cleveland plowed this field just because I suddenly took an interest in Eco Cities. So I should clarify that I understand that the legislation for this has been years in the making. But it doesn't stop me from being any more excited. 

To read the article and see pictures, click on this link. 

I won't pretend that I am the most educated person on the subject of Cleveland. But it strikes me that such a run down city with manufacturing on the way out has an incredible opportunity to invest in itself. We have a huge healthcare industry. In fact the Cleveland Clinic and University Hospitals are about the only two businesses that are routinely expanding just because they can. We have more Colleges and Universities than I can even name, and a prime location to do some experimental greening. Why couldn't Cleveland become a research hub? Because of our proximity to Lake Erie, we could do experiments not only with tidal hydro turbines, but with costal wind energy as well. Why not try to hook up some of the outer buildings to geothermal heating and cooling? We do have the space, given all of the abandoned mines and mills. Cleveland is one of the few big cities that doesn't have a lot of  traffic at any time of day, so closing off one or two of the roadways to improve them for public transportation would only slightly inconvenience commuters.

Now I'm not saying that being Carbon Neutral is anywhere on our horizon. To start, the white flight and sprawl that began in the 60s is still going (and going and going). People commute as far as an hour away and further on a daily basis just to avoid the "terrors" of Cleveland. Yeah, it's been said that we're the 7th most dangerous city, and yes there's a lot of truth to that. But studies have shown time and time again that by greening the city (and I do mean literally greening it, this farm could be the start of an urban farming movement as well as a rise of city parks and green roofs) you also decrease the crime rate. People are happier when they get to look at trees, they're healthier when they eat local foods, and they move back to the city when they feel like they will be safe. That decreased commute lowers the amount they drive their cars, and therefore the amount of gas they guzzle. 

Oh, I know it's incredibly idealistic. But unfortunately for the planet, my idealism needs to become reality and soon. Regardless of whether you believe in Global climate change, we cannot continue to pollute as we have, for our sakes and for the biota around us. Anyone trying to make the claim that putting mercury into the air is good for the environment as a whole is just wrong. Period. 

Going green needs to be more than just a fad. It needs to be a lifestyle change. As Americans we have to lose this idea that we need to cram as much as possible into one day. We must be willing to add a little extra time to our commute, not so we can live further away, but so that we can take public transit, or bike. Instead of flying across the country to go to the beach, we can learn to enjoy our on natural landscapes and make do with what we've already been given.

But I sound redundant. Anything that I say here has been said by someone else before. Yet I don't think it can be said too often. As much as I know that any amount of change takes years to take effect, I don't see enough being done. Tax breaks are still being given to fossil fuel companies, people are still unwilling to take the bus, and there are still bananas at my local grocery store. It just seems that if you knew your house was going to catch on fire if you didn't fireproof it, you would fireproof it, instead of saying "my house isn't going to catch on fire, that's stupid." 

Beds

One resource I've been relying on very heavily this summer is "Great Garden Companions" by Sally Jean Cunningham. I found this book in the MULCH shed and it has been an EXCELLENT resource. It may be a bit dated (it was published in 1998) but it's all about planting this in a way that they benefit each other and you don't have to use external chemicals. In her very first chapter "Getting ready to Garden" she talks about why raised beds are so important. Not only does it show CLEARLY where the paths are in your garden (because you really shouldn't walk on the beds) it allows you to build soil that is healthy, nutritious, and excellent to work with. 


The MULCH south bed had individual raised beds, however last weekend we had two HUGE thunderstorms that washed a lot of the soil into the paths. One of the many consequences of large storms (another being the flooding I experienced in my basement this weekend... where I sleep. I do so love living in a house). So I've decided to start a project of re-lifting the beds. I'm literally digging the path, but I think that the work I do will really benefit the beds in the long run. The soil isn't that good. It needs a lot of rehabilitation. And at the end of the season, I'm going to see to it that it gets plenty of compost turned into it and is properly "fluffed" (in Sally's immortal words). Ideally when you're making the paths you rake the topsoil off and onto the center of the beds. I can't do this because the soil is so dry in crusty that there isn't really a layer of topsoil that can be raked. Hence the shovel. While giving the beds the full rundown they need isn't necessarily plausible right now, I did do a lot of work on some of them and tried replanting. Hopefully with some love and care, I can get the Black Beauty Zucchini and Haogen Melon to grow. 


In the late summer, sally recommends layering materials on the beds so that they're ready to plant in the spring. I don't want to directly plagiarize her, but essentially it's like making a passive compost pile that will process over the winter. Layering greens and browns so that enzymes can go to work and seedlings will have lots of nutrients the next spring. Soil is SO tricky. It needs a lot of care and attention the first couple of years so that it can be fertile. There are tests that you can have done to see what the balance is and ph level and from there you'll know what you have to fix. It's painfully obvious when it's off though. The North bed of the MULCH garden is rich with plant life right now, and the South bed... is not. 




Today I harvested garlic scapes. Scapes are the would be flowery parts of the garlic, but you really don't want them to bloom or else energy that should go to the bulb goes to the flower so you have to break them off. There are wonderful recipes to put the scapes into (mostly pesto from what i've seen but they're essentially like chives). You can usually buy them at farmer's markets so I highly recommend trying them out!

Sustainable Landscaping

For the past couple days I've been pretty heavily researching sustainable landscaping. It seems that green engineering may be my future... but we'll see.
The director of facilities has agreed to help sponsor a new design for the backyard, since one was never really put into space. Avid readers (if I have any) will remember that I already did some planting in the backyard. This would be an expansion of what's already there. The tricky part of the EcoHouse backyard is that it's not just shady. It's got a variety of different sun levels. It actually makes the project a little more fun, however. This is a rough I compiled of the things that have already been planted in the backyard (click to see the whole picture):

It's pretty rough in terms of presentation, but the location of everything is accurate. The grey represents shaded areas, and the dark grey on the sides represents the sidewalk. The lower left corner of the yard tents to accumulate a lot of water because of the location of the downspout (the long brown rectangle) so I've been looking into moisture tolerant plants. So far, using suggestions from the DNR and availability at the Outback Nursery (just for example prices) I've compiled a database of plants categorized by their of shade, moisture, type, size, and overall benefits. I'm still finalizing this list, but once I have the plants I really want, I'll draft a couple planting plans.
What I think we're going to try (since there's still a great deal of weeds in the yard) is using weed killer on the more troublesome plants and weeding the rest. There's a whole lot of creeping charlie that I'll cut back and then spray. Herbicides and weed killers are a tricky choice. Whenever possible it's better to just weed or cut back the problem plant, but sometimes the only way to stop them from coming back is by spraying. When used in small quantities, they don't do nearly as much damage.


The other issue I've been dealing with is chipmunks. In addition to poor soil, the South bed has a chipmunk neighbor. It's been eating all the little plant sprouts so that they don't even have a chance to survive. So how do you get rid of chipmunks? Well, the simple solution is to trap them. You can use live traps or deadly traps. But then what if they come back? Where one chipmunk was another is sure to appear, right? So other suggestions online were using predator urine (like fox or wolf urine, found at many hunting stores) which tend to scare away any pests. When my family got a cat, he was the most effective chipmunk trap we ever had. While we never found bodies of rodents (thank god) he certainly kept them away for our yard and our neighbors. So I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I'll probably do a combination, with help of the facilities department.

Weeding

Weeding is a tedious and necessary part of gardening. You plant things you want, you pull things you don't want. There a couple ways to try to avoid weed growth (though I've been assured the battle is never won). One is mulching. When things start to sprout, mulch with woodchips or what have you around your seedlings to keep anything else from coming up. There are different mulches for different plants, though I think woodchips are a pretty safe bet. Mulching with compost is also a good idea. The other thing is clover. Clover is a pretty active ground cover that a lot of people weed, but I read in "Great Garden Companions" that it's decent at preventing other- more harmful- weeds from taking root. So for now i'm leaving the clover, if it starts to look threatening I'll pull it. 

Beans

In the North bed of the garden we have 3 rows of pole beans. Pole beans like to climb (think Jack and the Bean stalk) the interesting thing about them is that the stalks are actually a little grabby (I think they have tiny hooks) that allow them to hook onto a pole and wrap around them. Ideally when you plant the beans you'll plant poles alongside them so they have something to climb, or you could also create a sort of Teepee around them, go here for more information. 


We didn't give the beans anything to climb when we planted them, but we did line the rows with poles to mark where they planted. So I just spent the last hour and a half stringing twine across to give them something to grow along. I'm hoping that this works, so far they're holding on just fine, but I won't know until tomorrow if the beans will actually grow along them of their own accord. I'll post pictures tomorrow to give examples (forgot my camera today). 


In the South bed of the garden I did a little bit of soil rehabilitation. Ideally soil is 40% sand, 40% silt, and 20% clay. A lot of the beds seem to be pretty sandy, given that they don't hold on to water very well at all, and the surface is left crusty and unfriendly to planted seedlings. Contrastingly, the soil over by the EcoHouse has been super compacted and has a higher percentage of clay (when I water the plants in the back yard the water tends to sit in large puddles for a while). I had a lot of soil left over from planting in the back yard, so I brought it over to the South bed and mixed it in (along with compost for organic matter) to the beds that were so hostile nothing planted had grown (and lived). I'm thinking I'll apply to the sustainability office for funds to plant new seedlings there in a couple of weeks. 


There are tests you can have done to test the quality of your soil. Overall, it should be fairly apparent given how your plants are growing and what happens when you water your soil. Soil compaction is also an issue! You don't want people walking on your beds! Aside from the fact that they can kill your plants, when people walk on the beds they compact the soil and make it hard for future plants to spread roots. I've had some problems with this over in the North bed, where there are painters working on the French House. Despite the chicken wire and the CLEAR indications that it is a vegetable garden, I found footprints in my tomato bed and a broken seedling! Ah! The best thing to do to avoid this is to make clear paths using dry leaves or wooden planks, and hope people are smart enough to pay attention to the signs. When all else fails, put up a sign with an explanation!


Yesterday my friend Nick and I endeavored to harvest some of the rhubarb over by the EcoHouse. We harvested about half the patch. I heard that the more you harvest it the more it grows, but just to be safe we left a significant amount. We didn't have enough to make a full pie (which we had hoped to do) but we chopped it up into little pieces, partially covered it with water, added a cup of sugar, and let it cook down to a jelly. We ate it over ice cream, yum!


The elderberries are starting to ripen so I can't wait for that next project! I've heard of some great ideas for what to do with them. I just have to beat out the birds!