Revolution Watch----Overshoot

It is difficult to always be watching the Sustainable Revolution, sometimes because we don't seem to be doing much to move us down the line, and other times the revolution is not moving in a good direction. By the later, I mean, rather than making a progressive efforts to seek out sustainable possibilities, we let nature take its course. Sadly, Mother Nature (some say God) can be a bitch.

Here are three things that one can't help but notice of the later type. The Muslim world is all in a dither over some dumb ass film made by some dumb ass in California. Stepping back from this and looking at it from the comfort of a Midwestern village, it sure as hell makes no sense. I mean, really. Most people who are rioting, and killing each other have not even seen it, much less understand that it was made by idiots in America where we have freedom of the press, and we do say all sorts of stupid things.

 It seems to be well known that in many of the countries now scorching their cities, there are large number of youthful unemployed, many who can't get married for lack of cash. There are just too many people and too few jobs. A sad state. Given a chance to rumble, they rumble and blame the USA. Is it really the movie?

Then I watched a film about the drug war of Mexico (Vice News) and here are piles of mutilated bodies (close to 50,000 in five years) dumped by drug gangs. I mean, how can so many people be involved in drug smuggling? Why do they not get regular jobs. They are young and strong, capable, but still they carry guns and get killed for what? Money? Are there no regular jobs in Mexico? There sure as hell are a lot of young people.

To top it off National Geographic arrives and on the front cover of the respected publication is a picture of some dude chopping the tusks off the majestic elephant that has been poached. Why? Oh, for money. It says 25,000 killed. The killers are all young---and hungry and apparently without work. The killing is a sign of desperation, an only source of funds to buy food--and probably cell phones.

I believe it is called overshoot, to many people, too few resources. Desperation, stress of no jobs, raising food prices. Just what happens when the resources deplete, these are the resources that have been keeping them all alive and they are finite? Some call it attrition. Call it what you will. 

 Just found: Sir David Attenborough stated in the most recent Economist, "The increasing size of the human population is having a devastating affect on the natural world." Hey man, that was in the Economist!

Missionary Position----Mainstream Projections

I look at a lot of graphs because they frequently tell more of a story than thousands of words. Maybe it is because it is easier. After all, looking at a picture in a book is easier than actually reading. Probably why some politicians only read books with pictures---they don't read because they don't want facts to interfere with their thinking and policy making..

What we have here is a graph showing oil production in Alaska, that would be the same stuff that comes down the pipeline. While this only shows the last few years, it should be noted that production started out, or peaked at around 2 million barrels a day back in the 70s. I has been declining ever sense going right down the Hubbard curve.

But every year individuals, companies, make predictions on what the future flows will be. As can be seen every single year they have been mysteriously off because being right would have sad implications. However, time is the teller of truth. The last projection was done in the fall of "11 it is now the fall of '12 and the word is production may now be below 500K per day.

This does not surprise many analyst because they know the game---but it does fool the citizens and of course, the politicians---No, actually they do not want to know. Companies are trying to protect their investments and stock prices so inflating the reserves is good business. The very, very sad part of this is, this policy is going on all over the world and we are all being fooled. Reality just might be a better pill.

The Warm Sun of Early Fall

Today was crisp, maybe 55 at noon, the wind in the back yard was negligible. The sun had the advantage of not having to pass through a sky of moisture, nor smoke, nor even wind. It was clear out there and it was not possible to step into the back yard and not take note.

At first I busied myself with rewarding the simple-minded chickens with a half can of genetically modified ground corn. They didn't notice and made no complaint as they trotted over from their worn holes in the back of the coop where they had been dusting themselves. Prior to tossing the grain, I noticed one of the Barred Rocks draped in her hole, wing out, head extended to one side, just laying there as if almost dead. Her eye was partially closed  as she absorbed the warm sun. Chicken bliss.

The grain was but a momentary disruption as afternoon dusting with a full crop was the ultimate American Dream. A little frankencorn and it was back to the wallow.

Even the leaves of the grapes seemed to stretch out reaching for the last sun of the year. Frost was in the air and grapes take an early hit, so why not reach out for the last throes of summer.

Passing through the backyard, I paused and lifted my head upward to feel the chicken sun. I didn't need to dust but I did need to feel it and it was good. The fall sun was probably too far south now to work on my savage tan but still warming to the soul. I could not help but hesitate and take it, maybe dreaming of other warm suns in other places, maybe with my lover.

It was at that moment I glanced to a spot on the upper part of the solar panels. There had been a movement, a tiny movement that one commonly sees in the forest while hunting, the movement of an animal. There on top of the panel was a squirrel stretched out in a trough. I had seen his ear move, probably to ward off a fly. He lay motionless. As I looked harder I couldn't but help to notice his eyes were closed and his body was laid out pushed toward the sun.

He was sleeping, absorbing the sun much like the chickens and much like I had been doing. It was the American Dream. A full belly and a face to the sun, warmth. What a way to go.

In Pursuit of the Wild Hare

There is a dog named Zoey. Her life of leisure includes chasing squirrels and for that matter, any small rodent that should fall with in her sphere of vision. The chase usually starts with an extended period of concentration, a time when she just sits and observes, maybe thinks of an appropriate move, or the subtle time she needs to make the outing a success.

Interestingly, success is apparently not to catch the animal for food but to just chase it. Some of the initial effort is mere posturing with a front leg lifted. She stands almost regal as if posing for a dog show. It is a game. Not a totally serious game because she does not need the protein of the rabbit, she does not even need the exercise, she does it for fun. It appeared so senseless---just the chase, no end to the journey.

In a final burst, she dashes for a squirrel,  the bushy tail runs up the tree, she stands against the trunk, front paws reaching high and tongue out in glee. Eventually, she steps back and then sits down, head held high watching the squirrel bound through the branches. I almost get the feeling if she caught an animal it would be released after a gently mouthing.

So what is the deal? Is this a metaphor of some sort?  On this same day, we fished on the back waters of the Mississippi for probably four hours and in the process tossed our rubber weedless frogs to endless accumulations of floating duck weed. Thirty strikes from thirty fish and not one was landed, we stalked in our elegant gear, we studied the settings, we approached quietly with out rods held high, poised to launch the perfect cast. Had we landed a fish, it would have been returned unharmed. Are we but dogs?

Catching that First Fish

I don't know when I caught my first fish but I would suppose it was about the age six. I do remember being on the sandy bar of the Wisconsin River next to Sauk City. My old man had put together a couple of cane poles, which is something I don't think anybody uses any more because the selling of such a simple tool does not contribute to the economy very much if at all.

He baited up two of the long outfits with a fat worm, an item that probably go more of my attention than most things, tossed the line in the water, plopped the pole down on the sand with a Y stick holding the tip up. I am sure I was told to watch the set up and if a fish jerked on it, I was to jerk back.

The smell of the river is still with me to this day, impregnated in my growing mind back then. It was the smell of dead fish, rotting algae, a few aquatic weeds and the cool water of the big river.

What a great smell and to this day every time I visit that river, and sometime others, there is that smell, the smell of my youth on the river, the smell that was running through my nostrils as I waited for the first bite. I must have been distracted or something, maybe it was a dragonfly or a giant clam, but when I looked up my cane pole was heading down the river. I remember my old man trying to retrieve it but after a few bobs fifty yards out it was gone in the grips of some massive catfish, or more likely a carp. It had been my first chance. However, I was not discouraged because it was an adventure that involved my old man laughing, cursing and thrashing in the big river. He wasn't mad at all. Probably a 20 cent pole, cheap line and a hook. He had a story tell about the lame ass kid.

So a couple of weeks ago I took Jake, the babbling grandkid,  to Glenn's pond and put the modern version of a cane pole in his hand, taught him how to cast it and off he went on a youthful experience. With the tutelage of Glenn and himself we went over the appropriate lingo and placement, and retrieval techniques of fishing for Crappies. With in fifteen minutes he had his first fish, one that he caught all by himself.

Much like me he went on and on about his catch, including yelling at grandma about the merits of the woolly bugger, and how to place a cast. Then to, I imagine there were the smells, smells of fresh grass, water weeds and algae, and the fish on his hands. His eyes were on fire. He wanted to catch the huge bullfrog and throw sticks at the bugs. Every minute filled with all of those same things I had on the Wisconsin River. The light has been lit.

Shitake Mushrooms---Sustainable Fungus

I just cooked up some sustainable popcorn, that would be popcorn that a friend grew right here in town. It did not have to be imported form Outer Mongolia, no sprays, even though the word on the street was the crop had been attacked by raccoons and the grower dude may have had to use corporal punishment to protect my sustainable kernels.

This has little to do with where I am heading, but I am eating popcorn and this story has influenced by the fact I just packed some sustainable chili peppers in freezer bags and then ate the popcorn. At first I couldn't figure out why my mouth was burning and my lips stung. It is sad how long it took me to figure out what the gig was.

If I want to be sustainable, I will have to wise up or just have a really hot mouth, blistered if you will. I can't let age affect my sustainability. I must be wise to food and touching food. Boy, I could have touched other things!

So that takes me back to the Shitake Mushrooms. A couple of years ago I picked up from the local organic dude, three oaks logs, all inoculated with spores of the tasty mushrooms. We were given instructions and told not to urinate on the new "field" ( I made that up) but were were taught things.

A couple of years passed and nothing, until this spring when I secured my first 'room, and it wasn't much of a toadstool, I'll tell you. However, I learned the fungus was alive. We have been gone for a few weeks having to babysit and on our return a fellow Shitaki affectionato by the name of Wayne from Chi Town inquired on our fungus farm in that he had recently harvested a delightful bouquet.

I ran to ours only to find out they had indeed bloomed right after the last rain and then gone to the worm condos and heat stife. But today, just by mistake, I stumbled up on my oak logs and there proudly protruding from my "farm" were four beauties basking in the shade. Tomorrow will bring a nice side of sustainable, and noticeably nutritious and therapeutic (so I am told by various vegi types)  toadstool stir fry.

Missonary Position---Growth Rates

I haven't had to be in a missionary position in a long time, not because I did like the position but simply because I was distracted. I am not sure by what but it was good. One can't hound his missionary work all the time or folks will think this is nothing but proselytizing. That is what missionary work is isn't it?

What we have here is the world's growth rates in three categories. Seeing has how this growth things is at the heart of all of our problems, I thought I might get in my missionary's position and go over this rather alarming little presentation.

First off, I noticed that during the hey-day of my sorta youth, that would be the '60 and'70s, things were really nuts. I mean, population growth was such that it would double every 40 years or so. The energy use growth rate was at 5.15%. My God, had that gone on long we would have consumed all of the earth's energy in an alarmingly short period of time, maybe by 2100.

Still the growth rate today for energy is at 2.33% and that would imply it will doubling in 30 years. That my friends is not possible with peak oil already being here and nat. gas, seemingly endless, is also being taxed. Nucs? They are history unless we want to watch Ivan glow---or Johnny Six Pack. Alternative energy you say. There is a joke. They all depend on fossil fuels to build.

Germany has more solar than all the rest of the world put together and it only provides 4% of their needs.
 Yikes!

GDP is a joke. How do we continue to have never ending exponential growth of GDP in what is clearly a finite world? 3.51% per year? Doubles every 20 years. Who are we kidding?

Still, in the end population is the kicker. Double population every 70 years? Right. It is already so crowded it is becoming hard to be alone even in this country. I think it is called overshoot. Drop energy production and both population and GDP will go out the window by attrition.

These figures are not pretty and need to be modified pronto. Even a moron can see that but not the governments of the world. I mean, there is only so much space, dudes. I don't want to live in a world where every time I bend over I have to kiss somebody's butt. Are we any smarter than yeast?

Pole Beans----An Option

For the past few years, we have planted pole beans thinking they were a substitute for bush beans, or snap beans but they have never really filled the bill. They are aggressive and would completely fill out the tripods I built for them all made out of cedar slats.

The produced long purple beans but tended to be a touch on the tough side, not real tender. Not foam-at-the-mouth watering. Snap beans are pleasant to eat right out of the garden. They break crisp and are fashionably good right then and there to the point where they can be eaten like popcorn or the French fries at McDonald's, the ones covered with heroin. The big purple suckers were just a touch weak.

Still, we put them in because they used little space and canned up (well cooked first) were still good fair and not covered with ghastly chemicals form Dow.

This year a cleaver agriculture stunt was in order and we planted maybe 12 seeds right on the edge of the garden, and right up next to the Cedar hedge, the 20 foot hedge. I figured start the climbing out with a well placed fence of large mesh and then they would move up the Cedars.

Damned if they didn't. Initially, they couldn't get their act together because of the drought. There were vines and all, but the local, cold, chlorinated tap water just wouldn't kick them in the ass. They climbed but were void of flowers, thus the idea of getting bean pods for canning was looking slim. Maybe the vines could be used to feed rabbits or a hog---none of which we have yet.

We did get one rain in mid August but not enough to excite the damn beans. So we left town to go babysit for two weeks and on our return the climbing beans had been inspired by 2 good rains and some reasonable weather. Bingo, there on the trees was a profusion of giant beans, some too giant, but enough dandy purple jewels to fill six fat quarts for winter fixings.

Only problem was had they been any higher, say 15 ft, then I would have had to have climbing ropes, pitons, an ascender and most importantly courage as the act of picking was much like rock climbing. Still not a bad deal for 12 plants and not much horizontal garden space. Wish they tasted better.