Laziness Is Common Sense

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When we first moved to the country a farmer gave us some good advice. “Make it easy on yourself.” He may have been talking about raising cattle, baling hay, anything really. His organic, widely diversified farm was (and still is) an example of ingenuity. He and the generations before him who ran the place looked at necessary tasks and figured out ways to make those processes run more smoothly with less effort. This didn’t mean buying expensive equipment that put the place in debt. It meant thinking for themselves as they tinkered with design to reduce the strain of loading hay into lofts, or trying out alternative methods of manure removal to save time and energy. That way the job is more pleasurable and yes, easier.

This is part of human ingenuity and has been since we first grunted in self-awareness. Let’s face it, humans prefer to avoid wasting unnecessary effort on unpleasant tasks. Sort of like common sense laziness. This worked pretty well for us back in the earliest days when saber-toothed tigers lurked. Evolution favored individuals who didn’t wear themselves out, since they had more energy to flee from danger plus more energy enabling them to think ahead anticipating and guarding against potential threats. All this saved energy was available to use in developing story, song, dance, you know, culture. We humans like expending energy that way! Our forebears passed along the genes for innovation as well as the genes for common sense laziness.

We like the innovative genes. But we judge ourselves pretty harshly for common sense laziness. Until very recently people got plenty of exercise from work necessary to house, clothe, and feed ourselves. Researchers in an Australian study measured activity levels of men who worked in a historical re-enactment village. Each subject wore a device that measured body movements. The results were compared to activity levels of men in current day occupations like accounting and taxi driving. Over the course of a week the 18^th century pretenders had 60 percent higher activity levels than the modern group. And it’s probably worth noting that re-enactment is still probably less strenuous than actually living that lifestyle. Other studies have found significant differences in calories burned when we wash dishes by hand rather than use a dishwasher, climb stairs rather than use an elevator, and walk to work rather than drive.

Now we have “exercise.” It’s a strange concept, really. We run nowhere, lift weights only to put them down, stretch without trying to reach anything. At the very core of our being we’re motivated to exert energy when there’s a purpose. Accomplishing real tasks in the real world builds muscles, burns calories, and as a side perk, gets things done. By real, of course, I mean tasks that people several hundred years ago would recognize. (Not the sort of work I do for a living, using the tools of a swivel chair and computer.) In our society we’re eager to use labor-saving devices and often pay people to do the physically demanding work of maintaining our homes, yards, and vehicles. To afford this ease, we work longer hours. Then we “discipline” ourselves to engage in strenuous exercise despite the evolutionary pull toward common sense laziness.

We need a middle ground. I totally agree with our farmer friend. Making it easier on ourselves is smart if we’re doing the hard work of traditional farming or any other physically taxing pursuit. For most of us, that’s not an issue. What is the issue? Recognizing that our bodies need and our minds want full engagement. I know purposeful work is waiting for me: helping a friend move, digging in the garden, painting a room, organizing a closet, and plenty more after that. It feels good to get something done and the exercise is built in.

To fully benefit, a change in attitude is important too. Scolding ourselves for laziness has a powerfully negative effect. Consider a study done with hotel maids as subjects. All day long these women performed physically taxing labors as they hauled heavy carts, bent, scrubbed, and pushed vacuums. Yet when asked, the majority said they didn’t get any exercise. Even more strangely, although these women got more than the daily recommended quota of physical activity their bodies didn’t seem to benefit. Indicators including body fat, blood pressure, and waist-to-hip ration matched their perceived level of exercise, not their actual level of exercise.   It gets even more interesting. Half of the maids were educated about how many calories their daily tasks burned and told their work qualified them as physically active. The other half were not. Within a month, the attitude change group showed a reduction in blood pressure, waist-to-hip ration, and weight. So how you perceive the chores you do each day or the basement you cleaned over the weekend is important.

Oh, and one more thing. Common sense laziness has nothing to do with fun. Playing and dancing and running for sheer pleasure may provide exercise but more importantly, they fully engage our whole beings. They remind us how good it feels to be alive.

Singing About Nature

Nature sings all sorts of ways, in birdsong and breezes and fast-running streams. When my daughter was very small she sang right along. I still do, serenading chickens and cows and bees with made-up tunes unfit for any other audience.

Here are a few garden-inspired songs from folks who are worthy of a listen.

What songs about nature speak to you?

What About Weed Control?

Nature doesn’t appreciate the bare earth method we call “weeding.” The soil we count on to grow our veggies and flowers isn’t just a blank medium for our gardening whims. It’s a fragile, complex, living system that’s home to bacteria, fungi, and other life forms busy beneath our feet.

Left alone, nature brings forth plants of all kinds that improve the soil’s ability to foster life. We call them weeds. They seem to spring up without reason other than to frustrate us. But nature has her reasons.

~Many of these plants boost the presence of mycorrhiza.  This beneficial fungi massively improves a plant’s ability to use the soil’s water and nutrients while providing protection from certain pathogens. Mycorrhizas are found in more than 90 percent of plant families but its presence is inhibited by too much fertilizer and it can be destroyed by excessive digging, tilling, and soil compaction.

~Many of these plants help to break up heavy soil with strong root systems, aerating and improving drainage.

~Many of these plants improve soil fertility. Some fix nitrogen, some draw trace elements  from deep in the ground and transport them closer to the surface.

In places where the soil is lacking, the right plants to correct those particular deficiencies tend to spring up. In fact, botanists know that weeds are an indicator of soil properties such as pH and mineral levels. That’s nature’s wisdom at work.

Then we come in, gardeners and farmers, doing our darndest to get down to bare ground between rows of plants. Many of us know that bare ground is scalded by the sun, and topsoil is washed away by wind and rain but old habits die hard.

I want to understand the weeds that nature bestows on me. For example, I respect the fierce tenacity of thistles that can quickly grow taller than I am. And I can’t help but adore the beauty of those delicate flowers atop such a prickly stem. They’ve visited most fiercely in our front flower bed, one that was mounded up from subsoil left when our septic system was excavated. I know and nature knows the soil there isn’t very hospitable to life. That’s why thistles are there. I’ve augmented that bed with cow manure dragged from the back of our property, stacked it with layers of straw and mulch, and pulled out as many thistles as  I can before my strength gives out. What’s interesting is thistles are dynamic accumulators that work to bring up deep nutrients and their long roots break up poor soil.  What’s also interesting is that that fewer thistles appear in that bed every year, as if they’re completing a job started nearly 15 years ago. Other weeds are now taking their place, surely just as necessary.

But respect for weeds goes only so far. It’s not possible to grow peas, lettuce, and other delicate plants in a jungle of weeds. Besides, I am a low energy lazy gardener. Once summer heat rolls in I’m more inclined to hide in the shade with a book than sweat with Puritan righteousness in the sun.

So I have lots of experience with weed control methods.  (Other than chemical, I don’t go there.)

~I’m not good at hoeing, although that may have something to do with using an antique implement that probably hasn’t been sharpened for decades. My hoeing technique also probably leaves something to be desired. Finally, the whole hoeing experience is impaired by having three dogs out with me, dogs that like to dash after each other in wild canine exuberance putting them right in the way of my hoe.

~I’m not good at pulling weeds either but that’s the method I use most often. I tend to sit on the ground as I hand weed, and I happen to like how close that puts me to the smell of growth and the sight of tiny insects and an overall greater awareness of what’s going on in the garden. The size of my various gardens makes it impossible to do this well unless I want to spend many many hours a week on my butt pulling weeds, which I do until the blazing heat hits. Then I do so fewer hours with greater grumpiness.

~Landscape fabric. We were given reams of this by a friend of a friend who used to run a greenhouse. I was thrilled. It worked great until I pulled it off at the end of the growing season. The soil looked awful, cracked and strange as if it had boiled under all that black fabric. Rather than being soft and friable it was hard. I wanted to beg the dirt’s forgiveness. I was also rather bitter, as this was the easiest thing we ever used. It also has to be pulled up every year or it’ll accumulate so much biomass on its surface that plants will simply grow on top of it.

weed control using newspapers and straw

~I read about the newspaper and straw method years ago in Mother Earth News, and have been doing it on and off ever since. Basically you layer heavy, overlapping sheets of newspaper between the rows covered by straw or grass clippings. By the end of the growing season it’s largely biodegraded and is dirt by the next spring. I have a love/hate thing going with this method, probably because I’ve made all the mistakes possible. Too little newspaper, straw so flimsy that it doesn’t break into sections that firmly hold anything down. And the worst, trying to put down newspaper when there’s any breeze at all. This year I’m doing most of the garden this way. Again, making mistakes. This time I laid down quite a few rows and got the straw nicely set atop those papers but didn’t dampen it with rain barrel water because the sky threatened rain within minutes. Bad idea. That rain appeared only after heavy gusts of wind, meaning I was running around the yard trying to catch windborne newspaper and stomping my feet in Rumplestiltskin fits of frustration.

~This year’s innovation. I got into the pile jeans I’ve been saving to make a quilt (the kind perfect to keep in a car trunk for impromptu picnics). I slashed them apart, laid them in rows while my kids laughed at crazy mom, then covered them with straw. I don’t know if they’ll biodegrade or if I’ll have to pull them up, but I’m thrilled with how well they’re staying put.

What do YOU do to live with and live without weeds?

Bovine Joy

Here are cows being released from winter confinement to spring pastures. Their joy at being returned to the natural element is evident.

Cattle, when they have free access to shelter as well as pasture, choose to spend more time outdoors (often preferring rain and snow to summer’s heat). They’re curious about anything new going on nearby. Even animal researchers have been surprised to discover cattle have “eureka” moments when solving problems, an experience so gratifying that some cows leap in the air.

Over the years we’ve often see our bovines indulge in those leaping moments, often out of sheer pleasure.

They know what they need and seek it out.  Given free pastoral range, they select grasses with high nutrient levels, instinctively self-medicating with the right plants when ill. Unless rushed, they’re slow and contemplative eaters. After eating, they digest as all ruminants do, chewing their cud to enjoy the meal all over again. They choose to graze alongside favorite herd mates, just as we prefer lunching with friends.

Even confinement farm operations are beginning to find that grazing operations are better for cow health and cost less to run. Bovine joy is a natural side effect.

Curmudgeonly Spring Welcome

Image courtesy of petiteartiste666.deviantart.com

Birds are singing, spring peepers are peeping. It sounds as lovely as it is warm and inviting. But it feels “off” in ways that are hard to explain.

Spring arrived here at the beginning of March. At the beginning of the month daytime temperatures were similar to April, breaking into May-like weather by the second full week. In our area we’ve had the longest string of days over 70 degrees in March since records were kept. Tomorrow a high of 80 is predicted.

Nature has responded. The forsythia and magnolia are in full bloom, blossoms already dropping. Asparagus shoots are poking out of the ground, peas planted just a few days ago are emerging, and our garlic scapes are ankle high. Trees are budding and our beehives are buzzing.

I like spring as much as the next person. Well, okay, I’m a bit grumbly about weeding flower beds when it should still be the sort of weather that lets me take an invigorating walk in a brisk wind and come home to warm soup. Deep down, it doesn’t feel right.

Everyone I know is thrilled to be out enjoying the weather. That’s understandable. Wearing tank tops and shorts on St. Paddy’s Day seems like a miracle. But to me it’s downright off, like we’re welcoming the start of daylight at 2 a.m., glad that night has lifted though we’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep.

Winter is a time of dormancy. The stark months of snow-covered landscape invite contemplation and compel us to gather closer to the warmth of loved ones. It’s a necessary cycle for the fruit trees, migratory birds, burrowing insects, indeed most of life in northern regions. Here our honeybees have struggled to get through a wet, warm winter and our property is swamped with a full foot more rainfall than usual.

I’ll be planting lettuce and another row of peas today on the last bit of dry garden available, hoping that all the standing water dries up and the predicted thunderstorms don’t appear. It’s still March. I know there’s still a good chance we’ll have a hard frost, even a blizzard. But now I hope that spring stays. I’ve seen baby bunnies curled in nests under the big pine trees out front. The most tender among us believe in what spring has to offer. Our only choice is to believe right along with them.

Who Is Stealing Your Mail?

The post office in our little township closed last year, even though it was running in the black. Now there are rumors that the next nearest office, in only-slightly-less-tiny Spencer Township, will be closing soon. These post offices serve a rural population including the Amish who rely entirely on the mail for communication. Longer distances traveled by buggy aren’t just inconvenient. Adding another 10 miles to a post office visit means taking high speed roads that are truly a danger for those relying on real horsepower.

Government services are supposed to uphold the Constitution in ways that benefit the population at large. The United States Postal Service was explicitly authorized by the United States Constitution and has been in existence since Benjamin Franklin served as postmaster general. Yet now our government seems to be strangling this institution out of existence.

And not just by closing community post offices. USPS has announced it will eliminate half of the country’s mail processing centers.  This will substantially reduce service, just the beginning of the ugly changes to come. Legislators decline to offer any meaningful help.

The media natters on about non-causes like reduced use of the mail. That’s not the larger reason for this crisis. According to some sources, the USPS predicament has been created by those who prefer to see our mail service privatized.

Let’s look at the facts.

1. The USPS has no received taxpayer money for over 30 years (except for minor subsidies to cover overseas voters and the disabled).  In the 1970’s the Postal Reorganization Act changed the rules, requiring the USPS run like a business. Even now, the USPS is not requesting any government funds.
2. The USPS is not broke or mismanaged. It continues to net a profit every year. In cooperation with its unions, it has cut more than 110,000 jobs while at the same time adding a million new delivery points. On-time standards are at an all-time high. For the last six years the USPS has been named the most trusted government agency.
3. Here’s the biggie. The USPS struggles under a Bush-era mandate faced by no other government agency (and no other business).  The 2006 Postal Accountability and Enhancement Act required the USPS to fund its pension system 75 years in advance, and to do this within 10 years. Right now it pays $5.5 billion in pre-payments each year.  Without this crippling requirement, the USPS would actually be profiting quite nicely while easily meeting pension requirements. Instead it’s forced to put away money for workers who haven’t yet been born.
4. Reduced USPS services and delivery time will have a profoundly negative impact on the businesses that rely on the mail system. Over 8 million Americans work for these companies. The mailing industry makes up about seven percent of the U.S. gross domestic product.

This is ugly. It is slowly stealing the mail service afforded to each one of us in 1775 during the Second Continental Congress. Contact your legislators and tell them you know what they’re up to.

It’s bad enough to put the cart before the horse, it’s worse to shoot the horse.

Is Communal Cooking For You?

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Our hands are as busy as our foremother’s must have been at quilting bees and Grange dinners but we hardly notice. We’re talking and laughing as we chop, peel, roll, crimp, and bake dozens of pies. When we relax afterwards with wine and a potluck meal, we enjoy a blissful feeling of accomplishment.

I like getting together with friends to make food. We pick apples, then spend a long delightful evening cooking down and canning applesauce. Or we make time-consuming appetizers like homemade egg rolls to freeze, ready for the months ahead. I’m all about saving time and money, especially if there’s laughter involved. It should be fun.

Communal cooking is as old as cooking itself. Pooling our energy and talents as we gather to prepare food at the fire is so ancient that it might as well rest in our DNA. It’s not hard to imagine gathering, preparing, and bringing forth each welcome meal in partnership with our friends and relatives, the oldest among us sharing their wisdom while the children learn and lend enthusiasm. Somewhere in the back of our brains the feeling may linger that we are meant to do this together. Maybe that’s why the tasks associated with getting food on the table are so arduous. If throughout the ages we humans always did this with others, of course doing the work alone seems more burdensome. We miss the camaraderie, the conversation, and the pleasure found in teamwork.

Meeting up to do large-batch cooking lets us hearken back to our roots. Such groups let us ease the burden by sharing resources, hopefully with the added perk of merriment. There are lots of ways of structuring a communal cooking group. My friends are pretty casual. We tend to call each other when a big project looms, like making hundreds of sushi rolls for a fundraiser or getting holiday baking out of the way in one day. Some groups have more formal arrangements. They meet regularly to prepare large batch meals to be frozen in smaller amounts for upcoming dinners. They may use food as a way of establishing a local bartering group. They may gather around specific dietary preferences. They may add so many members that it’s necessary to rent commercial kitchen space. The possibilities are exciting. And hopefully, fun.

For more information

Mama Bake is a “worldwide community of big batch, group cooking, laundry ignoring, Mamas.” They offer an amusing blog plus some big batch recipes.

Eat With Me is “a social networking site where you can plan cool food events, post them online and invite other foodies to join in.”

Meetup is an easy way to gather together like-minded people. Their slogan is “Do something. Learn something. Share something. Change something.”

Cooking with Friends ”is an interactive community of people who cook together as a creative outlet and as a way to grow and enhance friendships.”

How to start a community kitchen

Food and Fellowship: Projects and Recipes to Feed a Community

Frozen Assets, 2E: Cook for a Day, Eat for a Month

The Best Make-Ahead Recipe

Cooking for a Crowd

Moosewood Restaurant Cooks for a Crowd: Recipes With a Vegetarian Emphasis for 24 or More

Large Quantity Recipes

 

 

This is a Food Renegade, Real Food Wednesday, Simple Lives Thursday, Pennywise Platter, Butter Believer, Patchwork Living, and Real Food Forager post.