Community

At four o’clock on Thursday afternoon, the city council took on a discussion of the strategic operations plan (also known as the Sop) for the coming year. It’s an important document. If the work is in the plan, it happens. If it’s not, it might. After a week of long, thoughtful emails, the climate board members filed into the room, sat down, mingled with staff, and listened. For over two hours. They had spoken, once, in writing. A second time with their presence. Where we go from here is the topic of our next meetings, formal and informal.

Saturday morning was socked in with a deep and cold fog. I rode my bike out to the Farmer’s  Market around ten, thinking that it might lift, but it did not. I could see about fifteen feet in front of me, so people and animals kept emerging from the fog. First, about five white egrets against a green field. Then the alpaca herd moved towards the road—and there was no dog in sight. Ahead of me, three bright bike lights called out, then about fifteen people in bright yellow-green jackets passed me laughing hellos. A few minutes later, two small girls on bikes pedaled ahead of their mother, shrouded in a hijab, far behind and out of sight.  Somewhere, there were hills, trees, houses—but they were all, for the moment, gone in the fog.

We had the Winter Pie Social yesterday. By three fifteen, people were arriving, carrying pies, calling out to one another, gathering in the living room and dining room with cups of hot coffee, settling down for a long winter chat. There might have been, buried in the talk of summer hikes and gardens, some talk of civic action, letter writing and showing up.

Newport and the March

January is a busy month; everything is starting up again, including school. On Friday, after a wild week on meetings and piles of papers, Mark and I fled to the coast. It was our 24^th anniversary and we have a standing two nights at the Sylvia Beach Hotel. It was pouring out. The Ark needed air in her front right tire, so it was pulling to the right, and, in the confusion, I hit the hazards without thinking and we crept to the gas station with all of the blinkers on. Once everything was sorted out, we drove over the coast range. It was a dark and stormy evening, to be sure, and I never knew exactly where we were. We collapsed in our room, ate dinner, and went to bed. Outside, the wind and rain blew around the building. We had the window open and the curtains and door rattled until I stuffed a washcloth into the door to silence it. It was not a restful night. I woke up four or five times to consider how to deal with climate change and the SOP. How do we move from sustainability as a hobby to an integral part of all of our actions?

The next morning, all was still. The storm had blown over, leaving a deep white cloudy fog over the coast, much like my sleepy brain. The world was quiet. The ocean, under the pull of a full moon, was high. Waves crashed on the sand higher than I have ever seen them. We walked out and the foam swirled around my rain boots, adding to my sense of dislocation. Watching the water, my head spun. A small tent was tucked in the dunes. Someone was living on the beach in the middle of the winter.

At 12:30, we walked over to the Lincoln County Women’s Rally and March, starting at the courthouse. It is good to go to someone else’s rally. No one knows who you are, but there is still a feeling of welcome and solidarity. An older man was singing as people milled around, wearing pink knit hats, admiring signs, patting dogs. At few minutes past the half hour, the leaders mounted the steps, laid out the route, and reminded us to not engage with trouble. The head organizer was a tall woman in her fifties with grey and black curls, a rainbow pussy hat, and strong stance—impressive and warm at the same time. She led the group in the pledge that they spoke every year, nodded to me as a comrade as she passed, and led us out and down highway 101.

I’d never thought about the power of walking down the sidewalk of a major highway. Our marches are always in town. We were more on the edge, more prominent, more noticeable. People honked, waved, thumbs up, thumbs down. The Marchers, as always, walked slowly and fairly quietly, chatting with their neighbors, waving at cars, not chanting despite several attempts. “The president is speaking,” someone said. “”Tweating?” another asked. But no one cared to check their phones to see what was up. We were together, walking. This crowd, because it was the third year, knew that marching, although fun and a chance to talk, was not the most important action they could, or would, take. Several used the time to update each other on other actions, like banning pesticides being sprayed on logged over areas. People referred to voting, letter writing, persisting.

After the march, we headed back to the hotel. The sun was trying to break through, but the sea was still stormy.  I didn’t have better answers to my questions about climate change and the SOP, but I had been reminded, once again, about the power of community and the need to speak up.

Winter Compote

  figs, plums, apples, pears, blueberries…the dehydrator works overtime for a few weeks every summer. We reap the benefits all winter long. There is dried fruit for munching during class, on backpacking trips, in oatmeal on Wednesday mornings, mixed in with spicy greens and pasta for dinner. Dried fruit is tastier than “ripe” fruit that has traveled thousands of miles to the grocery store, too. Occasionally, though, we miss a juicy tidbit. When that happens, I make compote. My new, lidded, bowl makes the process even easier.

One of the benefits of eating local food is foot foraged, home dried, absolutely ripe and sweet when harvested

1.       Fill the bowl with a mixture of fruits. I like the plums and figs because they are bulkier. Then I add pears and apples for a smaller bite. I also break up a cinnamon stick or crack open a cardamom pod.

2.       Pour boiling water over the fruit. I don’t quite cover it because more water just creates more juice.

3.       Cover the bowl and let it sit overnight. I used to cover my bowl with a plate, which worked fine. Now, with my new, lidded bowl, I snap the lid on.

4.       Move the bowl into the fridge. The new bowl is perfect for this step, too.

5.       Eat with yogurt, or oatmeal, or on pancakes, or on its own.

6.       You can add to the mix after it has set. If you add bananas or nuts, eat it all. If you add citrus, it can sit for several days all together.

7.       Repeat.

Twelfth Night

Tonight is the last night of Yule, so we are preparing. First, the tree came down and was hauled into the compost area to become both compost and the Yule log for next season. Then we cleaned the house, returning all of the small parts—shoes, paper clips, notebooks, seed catalogs— to their proper places. I cleared off the table, removing the seasonal table runner;  it will be bare until Candlemas. We washed all of the floors. Yesterday, Mark did a huge load of laundry at the Laundromat (our washer is broken) so all of the sheets and towels are clean. I made a food plan and went grocery shopping, then I cleared out several binders of old council papers. The old year has passed.

          

      Tonight, we will have our last Yule fire, burn the last section of 2017’s tree, and toss the now dry greens from the mantle in. The paperwhites we planted on Solstice night are up.  We will look through our cards once more and burn them as well, keeping a few for name tags for presents. We will eat the last two holiday chocolates for desert and finish reading A Christmas Carol. And then, on Monday, time begins again. I will clean out the ashes of the fires and spread them on a garden bed. School starts; a new council term starts; meetings and discussions begin once more. Happy New Year!

Climate March: Menu planning to reduce food waste

One of my goals for the year, related to Climate Action. A monthly post, around a theme, of household actions to reduce climate change. Small ideas, it is true, but, “step by step, the longest march can be won.”

“No Food Left Behind” is the name of a local initiative which teaches people how to both store fresh food more effectively and compost the (hopefully limited) remains. They give out lovely countertop compost buckets. I have one for my classroom. At home, we use an ancient yogurt container. Both topics are important, but pre-planning is also essential, especially if you are trying to eat mostly local foods.  Reducing food waste and eating closer to home are two easy, effective, inexpensive, and positive ways to mitigate—and adapt to-- climate change.

I’ve always been a menu planner. My mother taught me, although she was more of a pantry cook, working from what she had on hand every night and doing semi-weekly shopping expeditions. I pulled the meat from the freezer when I came home from school before I tackled the dishes and she cooked when she came home from work around 6:30. I sat on the counter and watched. When I left for college, I was in charge of meals in the household. Every week, we decided what we were going to eat, I made the shopping list, and we headed to the local produce and meat market. I learned, several years later, that my roommate and I were known as the “Three Chicken Legs Girls” because we always bought three legs, never breasts or thighs. Two for a dinner and one for the Thursday night soup, which gathered all of the left over rice and veg from the week.  We ate well  within our 30 dollars a week for two budget. Years later, when I shifted over to local foods, especially veggies, I returned to that more formal planning system.

Step One: What’s out there?

Start with the question.  What veggies do we have to work with right now? This week, the list reads: winter squash, onions, and potatoes in the larder, a few tomatoes n the shelf, frozen peas and corn,   canned beans, roasted  tomatoes, and sauce, garden  collards, carrots, celery, and cabbages. Salad mix later in the week.  I could dig one of the parsnips in the back yard if I wanted it. I think there is a beet or two back there as well, if the rabbit hasn’t found it. List all of the options! Check the fridge for accuracy.

Step Two: Recipes

Although I don’t use a formal recipe for every meal, I do have a file where recipes are divided into six week segments, depending upon ingredients. It’s all on notecards.   Because I’ve been working on the file for several years, it is pretty accurate.  If you are shifting to local veggies, it is important to find tasty meals that do not require red peppers in January, unless you have them frozen from August.   There are cookbooks that have used this concept for years. Check out Deborah Madison to begin.  This is really fun; good  cookbooks make excellent reading at bedtime.

Step Three: Menu planning

Lay out the week, Monday to Sunday. Note the evenings you have to be somewhere before or after dinner, so that you are not making something long and complicated on those nights. Consider making a huge pot of soup for the week’s lunches.  Put the veggies that will go bad, like greens or something that was left from the week before, early in the week.  Consider the oven—can you bake bread, a squash, and dinner quiche all at the same time? Do you need a round of beans in the crockpot?  Move your dinners around to consider all of these issues.   We are more likely to have greens and mushrooms on Monday night and save the winter squash for Thursday. Write up the final plan and hang it on the fridge as a reminder.

Step Four: Weekly Shopping

We do a Big Shop once a month, filling in all of the bulk items, dairy, and cleaning supplies. The food co-op offers a monthly discount to encourage bulk purchases and we take advantage of it. We have a list that guides us, which I update occasionally. Because of this, our weekly shopping can take place on the way home from a walk, tucked into one backpack.  Vegetables are more complex. We raise our own, store what we can for the winter, buy direct from Sunbow Farm, go to the Farmer’s Market, and then fill in what few gaps there are at the co-op.  There’s no reason for all of this complexity aside from freshness and supporting local farms; you can purchase all of your veggies from Fred Meyer’s.  

This week’s plan:

Thursday: Pasta with tomato sauce, salad.  Also, bake bread and the winter squash

Friday: Cream of Squash soup, salad

Saturday: left-over soup, toast

Sunday: Mushroom risotto, cabbage and apple salad

Monday: Chinese Buffet (New Year’s Eve!)

Tuesday: Black-eyed peas and collard greens (New  Year’s Day)

Wednesday: greens and tofu and rice