Where do I begin?

I've been trying to reply to all your lovely emails and blog posts today - my sincere apologies if I didn't leave a comment on your blog (or left multiple comments!) because today the Blogger comments box is not my friend for some reason - and my head is still spinning with a myriad of thoughts, concepts and worries, all busting to get out at once, so that as I sit here I don't even know where to start.

So I suppose I'll begin by saying that it was interesting for me, in light of all your positive comments and emails this week,  to read Sharon Astyk's article yesterday. In it, she calls herself one of the 'second wave' of peak oil & climate change writers (the 'first wave' being those who initially called attention to the 'big issues') who accepted that climate change and peak oil are real and went about - still go about - exploring the hows and whys of what might/ will happen in the future.  She also mentioned a 'third generation' of writers and thinkers, whom she will cover more fully in the future (hopefully soon), all building upon the foundation laid before them.

Random archive photo:
Mt Kosciuszko National Park, New South Wales, 1996

I found it interesting because it led me to think that, just as there are a third wave of "scholars", shall we say, there is most likely a corresponding wave of "doers": People who have read the books and seen the films - and likely scared themselves shitless doing so - and have started down the path of reassessing their lives and their places within this current consumer-driven economy.  Whether through good luck or necessity, some have been lucky enough to already have many of the skills the rest of us are now trying to learn, and all of us have found that we have natural strengths and weaknesses, which is an indication of how important a diverse and interconnected local community is going to become.

But now, many of us.. me, anyway... are saying, "Well. What now?"  I've accepted peak oil and climate change are real, I've ditched the second car & commercial cleaners, buy local & organic and mostly cook from scratch, have built up a good selection of reference books and have taught myself some basic skills which I hope to refine in the future.  But how do you (re)build a new community when those around you aren't interested or won't listen?  I couldn't count the number of times I've wanted to pack it all in and move to a commune somewhere where everyone has the same values as I do.  But a small, stubborn voice in the back of my head keeps saying "Yeah, but that's just copping out".  It would be so easy to pack up and move to a rural property, make ourselves as self-sufficient as possible, and be done with it*.

But that makes me feel guilty, just thinking about it.

I can't un-know the things I've seen and read, and - I feel - that makes me almost complicit with the marketers and polluters, if I don't at least try and share what I know even if nobody wants to hear it.

So maybe the third wave of "doers", are those who suck it up and at least attempt to step boldly out of their comfort zone?  Instead of dancing around the edges of issues which are important to us, we might start discussing them openly without fear of being judged? I know I'm not the only one who has dropped a few clangers - real conversation stoppers - into general chit chat and been mortified/embarrassed/disappointed at the response.  I see from your comments too, that I'm not the only one considered a bit 'nutty' for some of our actions and had copious eyes rolled in our direction.

Maybe we'll only manage to creep timidly out of our comfort zone at first - I myself took four years at university before I could manage to deliver a presentation without shaking and stuttering; the thought of ever openly talking in a public forum makes me want to throw up - but maybe this awesome virtual community which has sprung up in the blogosphere over the last few years might be enough to provide moral support those of us who are a little more shy and retiring?   I know I stand in complete awe of those of you who are out there setting up school veggie gardens and the like.

Food for thought.



Cheers,




 
* If you've already done that, please don't think I'm having a go at you, your skills and knowledge are enormously valuable to the rest of us.

Wow.

Just. Wow.

I've been completely overwhelmed by your responses and emails in the last couple of days.  In fact, I had to take a break between reading each email to compose myself a little. Without exception, they all made me cry. I apologise for not replying yet, but I really, truly, don't know what to say. I could never have anticipated that little 'ol me could have possibly had such an impact; it just blows my mind.

You're all right of course, about the stats. I should have made it more clear that it was never about how many people are reading, it's the deliberate "I'm-sticking-my-fingers-in-my-ears-and-refusing-to-hear-the-bad-news" and the "oh-for-God's-sake-stop-banging-on-about-the-environment" attitudes I find so devastating.

You're also right, of course, that this is my blog and if I want bang on about the environment and only one other person reads it, then why should it matter? It seems clear from your comments and emails that perhaps there is room for a bit more amateur exploration and discussion of the "big issues" in the blogosphere now.

Boy, that gives me hope.

Even if it ends up being only five of you sticking it out with me :-)

Can you dig it? Are you prepared to read about the things that keep me awake at night? The things that break my heart when I contemplate my kids' future?

'Cause I so need to get them off my chest.


Cheers,

And then, it was time to stop.

Hut on The Overland Track, Tasmania, 1991.

I once heard an aboriginal elder remark that their country, this land, is their church and that abusing it as we Westerners do, is like desecrating one of our places of worship.

I get that.  This place, Australia, touches my soul.

The Narcissus River, Cradle Mountain National Park, Tasmania, 1991.

Having stood under an almost limitless sky in 51'C in a desert, watched a spectacular electrical storm roll in across an open plain, stood beneath trees so tall I couldn't see the tops, squelched through sodden rainforest and across alpine heathlands, driven on an endless number of country roads through any number of changing types of vegetation - mulga scrub, red gum forests, coastal tea tree stands, expansive grass lands - I also get why Australians are so irreverent and dismissive of authority;  they know, instinctively, that the worst punishment dished out by  bureaucracy pales in comparison to that of Mother Nature.  Floods, bushfires, plagues of mice and locusts, droughts - hell, even being bitten on the bum by the proverbial Redback (spider) on the toilet seat - we've got it all.

Karlu Karlu (The Devil's Marbles), Northern Territory, 1986.

And so I come to my lack of blogging mojo lately.

I was involved in a minor fender-bender recently - not my fault and everyone was OK - which resulted in the car being away for repairs for a while, so there was lots of good old-fashioned walking, giving me plenty of time for quiet contemplation.

Near Simpson's Gap, the McDonnell Ranges, Northern Territory, 1986.

Finally it came to me on one of my walks, that the reason I am enjoying blogging less and less lately, is that I am no longer blogging authentically.

By that I don't mean that I am not doing the things I blog about, but that the things I blog about are only part of the equation for me; only half of the reason I seek to live more simply and sustainably.

The Daintree Rainforest, Far North Queensland, 1998.

It appears that the less I bog about the environment, the more readers I get.  That upsets me; it seems to me as though the more I move away from writing about what fundamentally motivates me to learn the domestic skills that most of us have lost over the past generation or two, the more appeal I have.

Indeed, any time I mention Climate Change or Peak Oil, I get a large number unsubscriptions.

Homestead ruins, The Coorong National Park, South Australia, 1992.

The final nail in the coffin came a couple of weeks ago when a fellow blogger remarked that it was nice to see simple living bloggers moving away discussing peak oil and 'organising action against global warming' and more towards showing their planning and domestic skills; that this is a positive change for the better.

Rawnsley's Bluff, Wilpena Pound, South Australia, 1993.

Reclaiming lost skills and learning to live more frugally is vitally important, but I am, at best, an "indifferent housekeeper", to use the words of Sharon Astyk, and I suspect will never find the meditative nirvana that many knitters seem to feel.  I avoid sewing pretty much anything that doesn't involve straight lines, I lack the creativity to ever be labelled a 'foodie' and my baking will certainly never win awards. Though I don't care (and that isn't the point of learning), given a choice, a good book and a glass of wine would win hands down every time over balancing our budget or planning our weekly menu. But I persist.

Bool Lagoon, South Australia, 1992.

Ramsar-listed Wetland of International Importance

However, by itself, knowing how to knit will not bring about a timely and efficient public transport system.

Knowing how to cook from scratch will not stop McDonalds from marketing aggressively to my children.

Knowing how to make my own household products will not stop Big Business from heavily influencing (some would say 'controlling') government policy.

Mt Kosciuszko National Park, New South Wales, 1996

I'm tired of censoring myself.

I want to blog about how angry I am about the government's failure to implement realistic carbon-reduction targets.

But I don't.

I want to whinge about how hard it is to protect my kids from being teased about not watching commercial television, the contents of their lunchbox or that our house 'smells funny' because I've been pickling.

But I don't.

I want to write about how socially alienating it is to have almost nothing at all in common with the other parents watching their kids play sport.

But I don't.

And so adieu; I'm giving up my blog.  I've no idea at this stage whether it will be a permanent or temporary thing, but I do know that I can't continue to only blog about 'nice', homely topics; there are literally thousands of bloggers out there who do it so much better than I and the proof starts with my blogroll.  I won't be closing this blog as such, so my archives will remain online.

Thank you for joining me for part - or even all, for a few of you - of my family's journey towards a more sustainable future in suburbia.  You all totally rock.

Seriously.


Cheers,

Ditchin' the plastic.

I've been using my own see-through net bags for fruit and vegetables at the shops & markets for some time now, but have had to rely on brown paper bags for bulky dried goods such as beans, rice and flour (when I don't buy them in bulk in calico bags).

Enter my gorgeous blogger friend Kelly, who saw a lamentable gap in the Aussie market for reusable cotton bags for these items, and went about having some made for her almost-ready-to-launch new business.

Et voila!  Beautiful, recycled organic cotton, reusable drawstring bags, labelled using eco-friendly azo-free dyes.

They are approximately 29cm x 36cm long, ideal for a kilo or two of bulk dried goods, or fruit and veg of course.

There's nothing like them available in Australia at the moment that I've seen, and it looks like she's sold out her initial listing on eBay (yay Kelly!), so keep an eye on her website which should be going live soon, to purchase your own set.

Lucky me got in early to buy my set which arrived late last week - now I can't wait to get down to the markets to try them out!

~~~~~~~~~~

UPDATE: Kelly has relisted some of her bags on eBay here. Go forth and shop sustainably ;-)

~~~~~~~~~~


Cheers,

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual.  A single photo - no words- capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment.  A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. - SouleMama. 

Cheers,

The antidote

...to all of yesterday's cake-filled richness.

Cheers,

Five!

I can hardly believe my "baby" is five already! Gosh, you really do need to savour every minute - good and bad - when they are growing up, don't you?

My "baby" is now chock-full of cake and good wishes, and is off to bed after a big day of activities.  Here she is watering in her newly-planted strawberries, part of gifts from our families which included the strawberries, a strawberry pot, gardening tools & gloves, a watering can and apron.  Roll on Spring!

Cheers,

Random snippets

Hello lovely people,

Once again my apologies for my absences of late; thank you Rhonda, for drawing me out of my hibernation today :-)

I'm still struggling with the chest infection I've had since February - the cold, wet weather this winter has had a lot to do with that - as well as a few other things in life, none of which were the least bit improved after reading this book. As someone who has struggled with understanding why so many ordinary, otherwise sensible people, are ignoring the manifold environmental issues we face in the world, Hamilton's book was utterly absorbing.  The down side was of course, that it was also utterly depressing.

Nevertheless, onwards and upwards, as they say.  'They' also say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so here is some recent, random photos from around here, a la SouleMama.

:: There's been kids climbing bare, wintery trees (because every child needs to climb a tree at least once in their lives),

:: and harvesting of summer root crops, including ginger, turmeric, sweet potatoes and yacon,

:: whilst being ably assisted by gardeners-in-training.

:: There's been experimentations with homemade breakfast cereals for the non-muesli lovers in the house,

:: and new, old biscuit (cookie) recipes from the CWA ladies.

:: There's been knitting of warm things,

:: for little people,

:: and big ones.

:: There's been regular Saturday night cooking sessions by the kids (spaghetti and meatballs were a hit; the heavy-handed pepperoni pizza topping, not so much ;-)

:: There's been rain, rain and more rain,

:: tree onion and perennial leek seedlings gifted by a talented blog-reader on her way through town,

:: and a finally-finished but forlornly-empty chicken shed and pen whilst we continue to search for local, pure bred Australorps. Sadly, it seems that most Australorps are crossed with ISA browns these days, to improve their egg production. Buying cross-breeds sort of defeats the purpose to me. Since a) I have no experience with chickens and b) Miss Six thinks that black chickens are "scary" (she's not a big fan of birds in general), we will more than likely end up with local Hy-Line Brown chickens (similar to the ISA browns), which are supposedly very robust and great with kids. When we expand our flock, it will be with pure-breeds.

:: Finally, today there will be unpacking and ironing of birthday bunting & decorations, wrapping of presents, chocolate cake-cooking and pinata-filling, just to mention a few, as tomorrow Miss Four becomes Miss Five.  Five!  Which means that I will shortly have been blogging for four years! Wow. Doesn't time fly when you are having fun?

Have a lovely day everyone :-)


Cheers,

Yacon

A Photo A Day Challenge: #113

Harvest was very poor this year, around 8 small tubers from all my plants combined, presumably from all the hot weather over summer and the resulting water stress.  I will mulch with much more organic matter this year.

I started this challenge on January 5. It was my aim to harvest at least one thing from my garden every day this year - and photograph it - until illness and an inability to get into the garden got in the way. If I could have managed to pick 360 different varieties, then so much the better! This is photo #113 of what is now a possible 253 photos/varieties.

Florence Fennel

A Photo A Day Challenge: Photo #112

I started this challenge on January 5. It was my aim to harvest at least one thing from my garden every day this year - and photograph it - until illness and an inability to get into the garden got in the way. If I could have managed to pick 360 different varieties, then so much the better! This is photo #112 of what is now a possible 253 photos/varieties.



Cheers,