Saturday mornings are among my most favorite time of the week. They offer relaxed, uninterrupted moments to reflect, refresh, and rejuvenate the soul. I count Saturdays as a blessing and make it a point to delight in the simple joys they offer.
Among those joys is the FreshFarm Market in Downtown Silver Spring. A unique, peaceful space, the market demonstrates everything positive about the local community. It is here where neighbors and friends gather to share in life, love, music, and food. Home to local vendors from around the tri-state area, the Silver Spring market offers quality, nourishing fruits, vegetables, free-range meat, baked goods and canned goods at a reasonable price, all with little impact on the environment. Truly a treasure, the market is a local gem full of surprises.
That certainly was the case last Saturday when I ran into Moe, a local bassist who provided live music at that week's market. As it turns out, Moe also has a deep love and respect for the Hawai'ian culture and is kind enough to share the Aloha spirit through his music. Needless to say, last week's Saturday morning trip to the market was more than just an exercise in conscious, eco-friendly living. It turned into an impromptu ho'ike (performance), with Moe on the 'ukulele and myself on the kaholo (traveling step).
Hula has added unbelievable joy to my life and the ability to share it with others is a delight. Starting my Saturday morning living Aloha with new friends set the mood for the rest of the week and I have the market to thank for the chance encounter. Though it is primarily meant to nourish the body and the local community, I truly believe that, like hula and lazy, stress-free Saturday mornings, the market also nourishes the soul.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Adventures in Composting: An Experiment On Hold
Oh, it's on--just not right now. The components for composting have been collected and are, for all intensive purposes, ready to go. There's just one thing missing: worms. Because our local hardware store doesn't sell composting worms, they'll have to be ordered from Gardener's Supply. Under any other circumstances, that all-important "submit order" button would have been clicked hours ago. Unfortunately, the miracle-making magicians that make composting possible are high-maintenance buggars who require constant moisture and will need a speedy transfer from postal package to their new, permanent habitat. An extremely busy work schedule is taking me away from home for a few days toward the end of the month and I'm not brave enough to chance being out of town when the worms arrive. Therefore, composting will be put on hold until April.
When the worms do arrive, they'll have a homecoming fit for a king. Using methods outlined on ecolocalizer, a 14-gallon, dark plastic tub has been purchased and small holes have been drilled in five sides and the lid. Newspaper, which will act as bedding, has been shredded into strips and a second, smaller plastic container will act as a tray to catch excess moisture. The original plan was to place the bin under the sink in an easy-to-reach, non-lit area, but spacing didn't allow that to happen. Instead, the composting tub will share a space with the recycling bin, which is tucked between the microwave and a wall. It isn't as hidden as I had hoped, but it is out of direct sunlight and in an easily accessible location.
I've been tempted to save organic scraps for my new friends, but after seeing Hoarding: Buried Alive, had second thoughts. Instead, further research has been conducted on what can and cannot be used for compost. Definite nos include meat (there's none of that here anyway), chemicals and dairy products. Some sources encourage composters to shy away from whole grains and walnuts as well. Items that can be used for compost range from egg shells to sawdust and may include coffee grinds, tea leaves, paper products, cardboard, hair, vegetables, fruits, flowers, grass clippings, feathers, hay, seaweed, and moss. It has been suggested that all items be broken down into smaller pieces before entering the composting process, as this will help with speed.
I'm excited for the new routine and anxiously anticipate the day when I'm able to give some worms a great, new home. I assume there will be a learning curve involved, but I'm up for the challenge.
When the worms do arrive, they'll have a homecoming fit for a king. Using methods outlined on ecolocalizer, a 14-gallon, dark plastic tub has been purchased and small holes have been drilled in five sides and the lid. Newspaper, which will act as bedding, has been shredded into strips and a second, smaller plastic container will act as a tray to catch excess moisture. The original plan was to place the bin under the sink in an easy-to-reach, non-lit area, but spacing didn't allow that to happen. Instead, the composting tub will share a space with the recycling bin, which is tucked between the microwave and a wall. It isn't as hidden as I had hoped, but it is out of direct sunlight and in an easily accessible location.
I've been tempted to save organic scraps for my new friends, but after seeing Hoarding: Buried Alive, had second thoughts. Instead, further research has been conducted on what can and cannot be used for compost. Definite nos include meat (there's none of that here anyway), chemicals and dairy products. Some sources encourage composters to shy away from whole grains and walnuts as well. Items that can be used for compost range from egg shells to sawdust and may include coffee grinds, tea leaves, paper products, cardboard, hair, vegetables, fruits, flowers, grass clippings, feathers, hay, seaweed, and moss. It has been suggested that all items be broken down into smaller pieces before entering the composting process, as this will help with speed.
I'm excited for the new routine and anxiously anticipate the day when I'm able to give some worms a great, new home. I assume there will be a learning curve involved, but I'm up for the challenge.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Adventures in Composting: A Preview
Spiritual and physical relationships with our Mother Earth are connections I have always valued, as they bring me comfort and joy. Though our society has moved away from rural, Earth-based living, I believe we can find balance between the conveniences of urban life and the sanctity of the natural world if we just put forth the effort. Ironically, living in a metropolis has caused me to become greener than ever before in my 26 years. It is here that I do not own a car, rely on public transportation (or my own two feet), purchase food from local vendors, and live in a multi-family dwelling where recycling is heavily promoted. Food choices in my area are bountiful and most businesses are aware of plant-based dieters, making vegetarian meals not only easy, but abundant.
Despite the ways in which I live green, one avenue is glaringly vacant: that of composting. One of the most magnificent ways to respect and honor our natural world, composting reduces waste, makes one consciously aware of what is thrown out, and replenishes the Earth with high-quality, fertile soil. It's been a goal of mine for some time now to cross the barrier between sage green and full-on forest green by starting an indoor composting center in my kitchen. This spring, I hope to do just that.
Because I've never before done composting--let alone indoor composting--I've been relying heavily on those who have gone before me. A video by ecolocalizer has provided great inspiration and instruction, as has the Nature Conservancy and PlanetGreen.com. A plethora of tools and extensive research doesn't mean I don't have reservations, though. Even the best-laid plans can result in disaster. Case-in-point: the indoor garden that, thanks to a mischievous kitty, turned into a secondary litter box.
This blog will become a way to document successes and failures in what I hope will ultimately become a successful endeavor. Here's to happy worms, a stench-free kitchen, malu loko (inner peace) and our great Mother Earth.
Despite the ways in which I live green, one avenue is glaringly vacant: that of composting. One of the most magnificent ways to respect and honor our natural world, composting reduces waste, makes one consciously aware of what is thrown out, and replenishes the Earth with high-quality, fertile soil. It's been a goal of mine for some time now to cross the barrier between sage green and full-on forest green by starting an indoor composting center in my kitchen. This spring, I hope to do just that.
Because I've never before done composting--let alone indoor composting--I've been relying heavily on those who have gone before me. A video by ecolocalizer has provided great inspiration and instruction, as has the Nature Conservancy and PlanetGreen.com. A plethora of tools and extensive research doesn't mean I don't have reservations, though. Even the best-laid plans can result in disaster. Case-in-point: the indoor garden that, thanks to a mischievous kitty, turned into a secondary litter box.
This blog will become a way to document successes and failures in what I hope will ultimately become a successful endeavor. Here's to happy worms, a stench-free kitchen, malu loko (inner peace) and our great Mother Earth.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Rejuvenated Spirit
The power of words plays an important role in everything we do from our most personal, intimate relationships to the billboards that dot urban skylines. As a writer, I am well aware of this fact. So when I came across an interesting phrase choices a few weeks ago, I was surprised, stunned, curious--and, as it turns out, delighted--when I realized what a profound impact three little words have on my collective being.
The phrase was found in the description of a documentary a friend recommended about the medicinal impact vegetarianism has on the general population. But a key ingredient, if you will, was missing. That harsh, polarizing, frightening word vegetarianism wasn't anywhere in the narrative. Instead, the authors chose to use the simple, yet majestic phrase plant-based diet.
Plant-based diet.
How could three little words mean so much? In the three years I've spent making the conscious effort to exclude meat from meals, I'd never come across the phrase. Yet, from the moment I read it, I was left with a new understanding of myself and the lifestyle I've chosen to embrace.
At its core, vegetarianism is, for me, a near-spiritual experience, an exercise in self control and a testament to my belief system. When pairing the action with harsh letters like V and isms, though, the peaceful act of refusing to destroy animals for consumption becomes radical and militant. Lord knows I've had to defend my diet on multiple occasions, and often to those closest to me, probably because the word vegetarianism conjures up images of ecoterrorists and anti-establishment teens looking to defy authority. Plant-based diet, however, is anything but vicious. Peaceful, calm and soothing, those words open the mind, leading the body and spirit to embrace a lifestyle rich in tranquility. While vegetarianism always has and probably always will remind me of the items I refuse to consume, the words plant, based and lifestyle reveal dietary choices that are practically unlimited.
Turning away death as a way to live brings joys and gratification, though I'm the first to admit it isn't always easy. Those first steps, when one is overly committed and eager, are sometimes the least problematic. It's the long haul that can present challenges. Yet, rebranding vegetarianism as the pursuit of a plant-based diet rejuvenates the spirit and offers the mind a refreshed approach to finding life through food.
The phrase was found in the description of a documentary a friend recommended about the medicinal impact vegetarianism has on the general population. But a key ingredient, if you will, was missing. That harsh, polarizing, frightening word vegetarianism wasn't anywhere in the narrative. Instead, the authors chose to use the simple, yet majestic phrase plant-based diet.
Plant-based diet.
How could three little words mean so much? In the three years I've spent making the conscious effort to exclude meat from meals, I'd never come across the phrase. Yet, from the moment I read it, I was left with a new understanding of myself and the lifestyle I've chosen to embrace.
At its core, vegetarianism is, for me, a near-spiritual experience, an exercise in self control and a testament to my belief system. When pairing the action with harsh letters like V and isms, though, the peaceful act of refusing to destroy animals for consumption becomes radical and militant. Lord knows I've had to defend my diet on multiple occasions, and often to those closest to me, probably because the word vegetarianism conjures up images of ecoterrorists and anti-establishment teens looking to defy authority. Plant-based diet, however, is anything but vicious. Peaceful, calm and soothing, those words open the mind, leading the body and spirit to embrace a lifestyle rich in tranquility. While vegetarianism always has and probably always will remind me of the items I refuse to consume, the words plant, based and lifestyle reveal dietary choices that are practically unlimited.
Turning away death as a way to live brings joys and gratification, though I'm the first to admit it isn't always easy. Those first steps, when one is overly committed and eager, are sometimes the least problematic. It's the long haul that can present challenges. Yet, rebranding vegetarianism as the pursuit of a plant-based diet rejuvenates the spirit and offers the mind a refreshed approach to finding life through food.
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