Moving - what makes it and what doesn't

Josh usually calls me a gypsy, referring to the fact that I've moved a lot throughout my life. By the time I was 10, we have lived in 3 different places (in 2 different countries). I stopped counting how many apartments I have lived in by the time I finished by Master's degree. Every time I moved, whether as a child or as an adult, I had to make a decision of what gets left behind and what comes with me.

It used to be easy, I'm not too attached to most of my things. But house plants have been my downfall. I have collected a fair number in every place I've lived in Canada. Every time I moved town, a few had to be given away, while the "chosen ones" would stay with me. We hauled 2 boxes of plants from NB with us. They were hardy enough to make it through being locked up in a dark trailer for a week in July. Currently, the count at our place is 33 green pets (holy crap, when did that happen??).

My problem is that I also want to take a bunch of tree cuttings with me. What kind? I have access to different apple, plum, walnut, and cherry trees, and a bunch of other goodies. I've been reading about tree propagation, and most trees can be grown from cuttings (yay, cloning made easy!). Since the trailer is a finite space, I will need to make some hard choices (see? I'm already better at this than most of the world's leading economists). Each house plant I keep means one less fruit tree or shrub I can plant (and another $20-30 per cutting we'd have to pay at a nursery). So over the past few (and next few) weeks, there will be a box of plants by the door, waiting to be dropped off at another nice person's home. Hope they treat 'em well...

We're social animals - sense of community

Last weekend, we visited a couple of friends, Thom and Torie Foote at Footehill Farm, near Spokane, Washington. Well, people we only recently met in person and we'd be honored to call them friends. We became Facebook friends a few months ago, over our shared interest in permaculture (and smartassery), but have not met until now. Summary of said weekend: this was one of the best weekends I've ever had. The feeling of meeting welcoming, similar-minded, intelligent people (try not to get too smug, Thom!) was just therapeutic.

Thom secretly enjoying my inability to operate a non-power-steering machine

People's needs for social interaction vary from pure hermit-ism to 100% party animals. We're somewhere in the lower third or maybe up to halfway on the scale. That means that while we appreciate our alone and quiet time, we also cherish positive social interactions, appreciate constructive feedback, and enjoy feeling that we're not alone in this world. At Thom's and Torie's, we learned a pile of new things, talked and argued about garden and orchard design, experienced driving a tractor (weeeee!), had dog therapy provided by Chena, and joined a permaculture group site visit to learn about revitalizing soil.

Personally, over the past few years, I have shifted from the "I don't really need anyone" to my current state of mind. I feel that as we change our focus from consumerism to sustainability, our attitude also changes from "the cult of individualism"  to an interconnected community. I feel that it's important to have people close by that you feel connected with, share interests with, can teach and learn from them, and can help them or rely on them in a case of need. This feeling of community, which was fairly common in smaller villages and towns (think Anne of Green Gables), has weathered out as (I think) cities grew, consumerism thrived, and each millenial bought into the "I'm the best" set of mind.

Our move to NB is going to bring lots of changes. One of those, I hope, will be a creation of a tight(ish) group of friends, neighbours, and over-the-internet-supporters. I would like to believe that there will be potlucks, "barn raising days", evening chats over tea or wine, and a general sense of being part of a positive group of people. I'm really looking forward to reconnecting with the friends I left in NB, and getting to know other people with values similar to ours.

Gardening, version 2.0, part 1 of ?

This will be my second gardening year. I'm still the first to admit I know nothing about it, and this will be the case for many, many more years, I'm sure. However, last year I knew even less, and it still worked better than anyone could have expected (left to right: tomatoes, peppers, mustard greens)...

Gardening seems like a never ending learning curve. You never "know everything", and that's great. From my first year of gardening, I learnt that you can plant a lot of the things you buy in a grocery store (like pepper seeds and dill, cilantro, and mustard seeds from the spice aisle). A lot Most of the things I learnt were from making mistakes - the tomato cages were too short, plants needed more water than I realized, carrots take a long time to mature (so don't pull them out when the radishes are ready, Sima), the spaces between rows were too narrow (some of us, cough, Josh, cough, have size 13 shoes), and so on, and so forth...

This second year of my gardening experience has already seen its first errors. I used the rolls from toilet paper rolls as seed starting containers. The idea is actually really good - it lets you replant the starter into the garden without disturbing its roots. In my case, two things happened - 1) I overcrowded the rolls and they got very fungus-y, and 2) I made no bottoms to the rolls I was using (as opposed to this), and the roots simply went on a little tour of their immediate environment. So while the pea starter was about 2 inches tall and the toilet paper roll was about 3 inches tall, the trailing roots hanging outside of the roll were about 8'' long. That's why the peas got kicked outside and are now in the garden, in a makeshift greenhouse...

What did I learn from this? That if you use paper-based starting containers, you don't overcrowd them, and that starting containers need bottoms. Will I use rolls again next year? You bet. I like that it's reusing basically garbage, I much prefer cardboard to the plastic (or peat) seed pots, and I do like the idea of not disturbing the roots.

Another thing that I learnt this year (already, and it's only April!) is that given 10 mins of Internet research, some imagination, and a bit of luck, we're actually pretty good and making stuff ourselves and for free. It may not be a thing of beauty, but there's a chance that it'll actually work... Here's our makeshift tepee for things like peas and cucumbers. Made with sticks (picked up for free) and leftovers of crocheting twine I bought 3 years ago for a macrame project.

And it already has its first inhabitants (cue the extra-rooty peas from 2 paragraphs ago). Look at the cute little things!

Food security - what does it even mean?

I was born in a Jewish-Russian family in the USSR, early '80s. We were lucky that my parents decided to leave the USSR and managed to do so in the very early '90s, just before the collapse of the USSR. People that stayed had to live through a very tough period of time, when they were not paid for months (despite performing their work as usual), and even if they were paid, there was hardly anything to buy. Many had to grow vegetables at their cottages, if they had those, or in random forest or abandoned city lots just as a means to survive.

Even growing up, before the actual collapse, there were continuous shortages of food. To be fair, a lot of those shortages began in the '80s, when I was born. Nothing we thought of as abnormal, since that was all we knew. Mandarins were available only around Christmas time and were considered a delicacy and one of the "must have" presents for the kids. I remember loving bananas, probably mainly since they were not freely available. Come fall, we would make huge batches of sauerkraut, buy and put away in the root cellar a whole whackload of potatoes for the winter, pickle tomatoes and cucumbers, pick berries and make jams, pick mushrooms and pickle and dry them. Even living in a large, industrial city (Yekaterinburg, formerly Sverdlovsk, formerly Yekaterinburg), having that root cellar full of vegetables and preserved food likely meant a less stressful winter.

In Canada, people have been lulled by the constant presence of huge amounts of food. Here people don't think about how they're going to go through the winter, because there's a constant supply of produce from around the world. While that gives one peace of mind, it also means that we eat out of season, amply support the oil industry, and can get swept away by the effect of globalization on supply and pricing, which also drives the smaller farmers out of work globally. One example is the sharp increase in food price in general, and rice price in particular in 2007-2008. As an affluent country, Canada probable didn't really notice, but others certainly did. How long will this buffer of affluence protect Canadians from fluctuating and rising food prices?

One of the things that reminded me of this recently was the price of almonds. I used to buy them in large bags, ~ $11/1 kg, which is outrageously cheap. Overnight, those bags became $22. It took me a while to figure it out, but then I remembered that California provides a staggering 82% of the world's almonds, and California is having a VERY rough time. And almonds are just a very small example.

So what does food security mean to me, personally? Food security to me means that we know where our next year's worth of food comes from. It means that the availability of our food will not be based on whether grain-exporting countries are supporting biofuel instead of feeding their people or the price of oil. Specifically, Josh and I feel that we have to eat much more locally (otherwise, we fall into the globalization rabbit hole), and that requires some imagination and will power during the cold Canadian winters. I will be buying as much as I can locally (farmers' markets and potentially CSA) and try to grow and put away as much food as I can for the winter. This winter, we had 30 liters of home-made plum jam, 10-20 liters of different salsas, and 20 liters of pickled tomatoes and cucumbers to keep us happy. I hope that as we get better at things, our pantry will look closer to this:

It's not waste, it's an opportunity!

Let's talk about toilets. We sit on the throne, do our business, wipe, pull on a lever, and feel all clean and sparkly, never having to deal with our own waste. This process requires copious amounts of water, crazy piping systems, and large-scale effluent treatment (can you say wasteful, expensive, and complicated?). It leads to a whole variety of problems, ranging from clogged pipes, pest infestation, the occasional overflowing during floods, etc... (I omitted links to pictures and sites, I'm sure you'll understand). In the rural areas, where urban sewage is not an option, septic tanks are usually required, coming with the added bonus of occasional tank pumping, tank backup, and septic failure ("Most septic systems will fail sometime" - what?? I didn't actually know that).

In the meantime, the process does not need to be gross or complicated. Poop is basically future earth, it just needs to be reminded of it :-) By composting the waste (also lovingly called humanure), you can avoid creating a smelly health hazard and instead create compost, the stuff happy food grows in. If you think about it, animal manure has been used for soil amendment for as long as humans farmed. We're just as good at producing the stuff, why not use it properly?

Is it gross? No, it shouldn't be. Here's a good and humorous list of the reasons why a flush toilet is actually way, way grosser. We just don't think about it, because flush toilets are the current mainstream paradigm (= because that's how we currently do things).

So there we had it, hippie-mode Sima meets urban, kinda squeamish Josh (wasn't there a TV show about that?). There were several mildly heated discussions, one moment where Josh asked hopefully "well, can put one regular toilet in the house, just in case?", but I stood my ground, and we have a winner! Looks like we'll be getting one of these slick things:

Considering that you can use things like dry grass clippings and cedar wood shavings to "flush" your goods, that bathroom is going to smell awesome. At least, we sure do hope so!

Cleaning our house, cleaning ourselves

I have not used deodorant since... I'm not actually sure. Sometime in summer 2013? In fact, I forgot where it was the one time I did want to use it this year. I have not used shower soap since December 2013. No, I do not stink, at all. Josh keeps forgetting that I don't use soap, and has that surprised look on his face every time it comes up.

We have both made big strides toward decreasing the amount of chemicals we use at home both for cleaning and personal hygiene products. What drives me is my hippiness and the fact that maintaining a healthy greywater system will require us to not use heavy any chemicals. What drives Josh is a mystery, but simplicity, $$ saved, and a desire to please me probably all play a role.

The key to all of our house cleaning supplies? Realizing that we don't actually need a lot of the cleaning products we buy. Eliminating the unnecessaries, a bit of edibles (vinegar, baking soda, lemon juice), Dr Bronner's castile soap, and some elbow grease work for the rest. Examples -

• We do not have air fresheners; since we've reduced our meat consumption, smelly bathrooms have not been an issue. 
• I only use water and a brush to clean the toilet (and no, it doesn't smell or try to take over the world), eliminating any nasty toilet-cleaning chemicals. 
• We use Dr Bronner's for most things like hand soap, bathtub and sink cleaning. 
• Josh uses a mix of vinegar and soap in a spray bottle as his "doomsday weapon" against clothing stains, windows, and such other things. 
• When running the dryer, we use wool laundry balls (hehe, balls) with a couple of safety pins in them to 1) reduce drying time, and 2) remove static, and have not needed formalin-infused dryer sheets. 
• This weekend I finally mixed up our own laundry detergent. 

Personal care -

• Twice now, we've tried the no-shampoo approach, for approximately a month or two. The second time it worked better, but I still have to figure out the perfect concoction. 
• For my "beauty products" I use oils and food items - castor and jojoba for oil cleansing, same + nutmeg for an amazing scrub, argan oil for moisturizing, coconut oil for the occasional hand moisturizing. 
• No shower soap for me, just water and a cotton shower cloth do marvelously well.
• No deodorant at all for me, and Josh only uses his during the workweek.

Overall, this means that we have far fewer chemicals around the house. Less money paid to the big companies, less worries about anyone ingesting anything horrible, and much happier lungs and noses. Honestly? Cleaning yourself or your house should not be leading to "occupational asthma and other respiratory illnesses" (see in full). Our grandmas kept sparkly-clean houses and laundry without an army of bottles under their sink or in their bathroom. I'm sure we can do just as well...

Greywater system

I have put a fair bit of thought into incorporating a full greywater system in our (future) house. Greywater encompasses any wastewater that does not contain human poop. Once Josh was on board with a composting toilet (yay!), utilizing the rest of our water properly just made sense. In a time when water resources are getting very scarce (US example, UN facts, China) and water pollution is increasing (no support links needed, I hope), we both feel that it's important to reuse and clean up whatever water waste we produce...

There are fantastic (and free!) resources for planning one, e.g., this and this. NB being NB, government regulations aren't super helpful for doing things using common sense and physics, rather than by-the-book and grid-based. The current regulations stipulate that a "non-conventional" sewage system must be designed by an engineer and installed by a licensed person (I have still not been able to find one of the latter). Since our kinda-neighbours on the Kingston peninsula are building a legitimate off-grid Earth Ship, complete with all the permits, we could basically follow in their footsteps (= creep up on their FB page and find & hire all the people that did the work for them).

Once I talked to the environmental engineer that designed their greywater system, I got discouraged. He suggested we use a septic tank and a pump, both things that I was trying to avoid - greywater that sits for > 24 h will become fetid, and relying on pumps may be a big mistake. Apart from pushing us to use system components I didn't want to use, the exercise would be quite expensive (and that's before the installation costs!).

Josh provided the voice of reason, as usual. Current plan? Install a composting toilet and go ahead with a septic tank/field "conventional" installation. However, plumbing design will also have to include stub outs - allowing us to incorporate a greywater system down the road, once regulation is more flexible and we have a better feel for what would work for us.

Of all our water will end up being used for irrigation. The initial treatments will likely include things like mycelium filtering and reed bed treatment. The outflow water will have to be lab-tested a few times under different scenarios to ensure proper filtration is taking place.

In the meantime, here's a picture of the system I thought up. I wonder, once we have our system up and running, how naive and silly will this look to me? Can only guess at how many details and important bits I didn't even think of at this point :-)