Saving the planet
We eat as organic as we can. There is some dispute on the definition of ‘as we can’. Peter likes supermarket organic because it’s cheaper; I like the little guys because I think the big guys are bogus. I assume the big guys adhere to the letter of the law, but the planet-saving spirit does not enter into their profit calculations. Some of the little guys are getting pretty big and glossy, but they can still tell you where their stuff comes from and if you want to, you can go visit it on site. Some of them you don’t even have to wait for official open days.* I want to believe this still means something: that it’s not all hocus-pocus designed to dupe the gullible and mysterious-auto-immune afflicted.
In practise this means Peter goes to the supermarket and I go on line.** We have a regular organic veg box delivery, but it’s one of these they send you what’s coming off their fields, not what you want, and I do not possess the bottomless craving for potatoes that burdens the British.*** Furthermore I like my broccoli frequently and in liberal proportions. So there’s always shopping to be done.† I have several suppliers I use but I’m still searching for the grail of the perfect holy organic food source.
One of the glossiest of the candidates has only recently started delivering in this area. Their advertising has been delivering locally for some time. I ordered from them a little while ago and okay, fine, but they’re not perfect so I drifted away on my fretful quest and have lately drifted back again. Meanwhile they’ve had a major web site redesign which while a good thing has some fairly major glitches hiding in the corners waiting to spring–repeatedly–out upon the unwary. Which is to say that creating your shopping list reminds me far too compellingly of livejournal’s comment managing, which long term readers will recall was not a favourite with me.
So I was already not in a good mood when I came to the check-out. They want you to become a regular customer so to facilitate this happy state of affairs there’s a column on your check-out list labelled ‘frequency’ and they’ve helpfully pre-filled in all the little individual boxes ‘weekly’. Anything you don’t want weekly you have to change . . . and, again like lj, there’s an up-to-several-seconds wait†† between clicks . . . and every one makes your screen give a convulsive jerk, and throws you to the top of the list again.
I had struggled to the end of my list, laying about me with the flat of my virtual sword. There was one item described as SOLD OUT so I . . . why, why? . . . went back to remove it–‘remove’ is another column of option boxes–just to be tidy I suppose, clicked, the item dutifully removed itself . . .
. . . and the entire rest of the list reverted to weekly.†††
I gobbled for a minute or two and then I phoned them. And because I’m a nice person really‡ I did not immediately rip the head off the polite young woman I spoke to. We went through my list again, over the phone, item by item, and she put it all in on the home computer where presumably it would get into less trouble. She said she had no idea what had happened, she was very sorry, and she would write a message for the site designers.‡‡ I rang off, feeling somewhat calmer. Their web site may be possessed by demons but they have agreeable staff.
Half an hour or so later I took a pass by my email inbox. With the absence of the email I was looking for there was the order confirmation from my struggle to purchase a single delivery of a number of items of organic food. The name of the polite young woman appeared at the bottom of the list.
And the list itself had again reverted to weekly.‡‡‡
* * *
* Hellhounds and I often walk past a particular farm which sells eggs roadside and opens to the public two or three times a year. I’ve never gone to an open day; I’ve mucked out way too many stalls to find farming romantic. They’ve diversified into ducks this year–or they’ve only just started using the field beside the footpath for poultry so I’ve only just noticed them. I’ve been watching the water in the tiny kids’ plastic wading pool in the duck pen get dirtier and dirtier–and the white ducks develop brown streaks. They all still seemed lively and alert, and they always commented, in the muttery duck way, on our passing by, or I might have started wondering if I should report them to somebody. But ducks need clean water. Ducks need ponds. Ducks are confoundedly messy^; if you’re going to take them on you need more space than you think you do, and this is also a small pen.
This past week the ducks have been moved to a new stretch of clean grass. The farm’s first open day was this past weekend. Sure, I sweep the floor when I’ve got a friend coming^^ but I only develop brown streaks when I’ve been out in the garden^^^ and then I have clean water to wash them off.
^^ I sweep the floor anyway. I am always sweeping the floor. I have hair factories disguised as hellhounds.
^^^ And the hellhounds are shiny and gorgeous at all times, but that’s a hellhound for you and has precious little to do with me. Hellhounds would be shiny and gorgeous if they lived in a neglected duck pen.
** Peter is also the one who actually gets his butt in gear and goes to the local farmers’ markets. In my defence the big Sunday one is while I’m ringing bells.
*** And lately, since the ghosts of all the falls off all the horses in my life have come back to haunt me in rheumatic form, I no longer have even a bottomless tolerance for potatoes.
† Another of those universal truths: There Is Always Shopping to Be Done. Nice cashmere catalogue through the door today, their summer sale catalogue. . . .
†† Which since I’ve performed these various functions on various computers with various link ups I don’t think can all be down to connection speed
††† See! I knew it! Tidy is a VICE! Tidy is a SIN! Tidy is a MISTAKE!
‡ Now about that bridge I keep trying to sell you. . . .
‡‡ Hers probably did not say quite what mine would have done.
‡‡‡ So I decided just a little stroll through the cashmere sale site wouldn’t hurt. Of course it did hurt, and when I got to the check-out they wanted me to log in. I appeared to have been there before, because when prompted for my email address as a user name it accepted this as familiar. I had no idea what my password was, so I asked them to send it to me. They did so.^ And it was clearly my password. I guarantee no one else buying cashmere has that particular private joke. So I went back to the site and plugged it in . . . and they denied my existence. But they wouldn’t let me sign up as a new customer because I was stealing another customer’s user name. I had a strange reluctance to start over with another email address, so eventually I gave up. It was at this point in a charming day^^ that I discovered the email list brightly informing me they’re going to be sending me a litre of ecological washing up liquid every week.
^ Note that the organic food list had not come through at this point.
^^ Note that it is the 2nd of June and 56 degrees. Oh, and raining.
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At this point, I would probably cry and decide the internet hated me. You’re a brave woman. (And stubborn.)
So what *were* you going to get from the cashmere site? ;)
The internet DOES hate me. I lead a tragic life. :)
A cropped (short: don’t know if this is Brit fashionspeak) blue cardigan! Waaaaah! –Maybe I’ll PHONE them tomorrow.
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Just remember… you are NOT the only one hated by the internet.
Believe me.
I second jmeadows. Brave and stubborn.
Waaaaaaaaaaah indeed.
Oh well. I convinced another person to read your books today. :)
The power of working at a library, eh?
Hugs.
–Julia
YAAAY.
Long may you work at that library. :)
Ooooy, it sounds cute! They should let you have it for half off for their site giving you so much trouble, especially after such a bad internet day! ;)
My thought exactly! :)
We have a farmer’s market at my doorstep (literally) every Saturday that lasts all morning and into early afternoon and an all-organic market every Friday half-way between home and work. I must admit I shop more for aroma and flavour than organic, but the eggs are definitely free range and very fresh indeed. So fresh that you have a hard time if you hard boil them, because you can’t peal them easily. The shells adhere to the egg white too well.
As to computer glitches. I just decided to do some reordering of files on my computer and moved my Music files. In the process all the extra info I have loaded into them, including a large number of album covers has disappeared. The size of the problem is considerable, given that I have well over three thousand albums on my external hard drive. I am now muttering and sputtering. Also banging head on desk. As my mother says: These things are sent to try us – And they DO!
Oh dear! Surely they have to be there somewhere! ****Shudder.**** I hate these stories.
The big farmers’ market lasts all morning too but you need to get there EARLY for the good stuff.
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Farmer’s markets are always so bustling and happy. I do love them. The produce is so brightly colored and fresh and, best of all, NOT in a plastic bag.
Yes!
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And if they DID put it in a plastic bag, they’d have enough SENSE to NOT put broccoli and snap peas in the same bag, with instructions to cook them the same amount. No no no.
If I picked the right variety of broccoli starts at the farmer’s market, I may be able to send you the name of a variety which can keep you in broccoli for the whole growing season. In the past, six plants have satisfied my broccoli needs all summer long (and into the fall) with plenty for the freezer. They are the ultimate in low maintenance crops. Plant with a bit of manure and pick.
I’m trying two varieties this year as I’m hoping to raise (and store) as much of my own veg and fruit as possible. Broccoli seems to tolerate being crowded and this particular variety (if only I could remember the name) produces side shoots the size of a normal head.
If it’s 56 and raining, it sound like better weather for broccoli than roses anyway.
One of my rugosas is showing nice rose colored buds and the Henry Kelsey climbers are on their way to spectacular … covered with buds. Spring is so short here, the peak flowering “seasons” tumble from one to another without pause. The lilacs are still blooming, as are the very last of the daffs. Lupins are opening nicely, along with iris, columbine, and ragged robin. I expect mountain laurel to bloom any day now. The wisteria has super looking buds (this is a new plant for me). And the first of the daylilies have begun flowering. With a bumper crop of asparagus, this looks like one of my best garden years ever. Sorry to gloat, but more than six feet of snow this past winter made “green and growing” seem like a fantasy.
The internets are seductive – they seem like they’ll make things easier, and then… and THEN…. I’ve had similar experiences with the local org. delivery place by me, except I failed to catch it and got an order twice in two weeks… I was eating a LOT of kale that month…
I always have the debate between organic v. local – is an organic bell pepper from Mexico a better choice than a local, non-organic one? It’s a tough call if you’re thinking environmentally, but easier if you’re thinking of what goes in your body. I’m lucky in that I’ve lived the past few years in a region ridiculously rich with local farms, and I’ll be moving practically next door to a tiny co-op that, despite being in rural coastal Maine, seems to have a pipeline to incredible local organic produce.
YOu’re not in the Blue Hill area, are you? Organics exploded about the time I moved to England. Ah well.
I will still teeter toward local some of the time, if it’s the sort of thing that a good soak in veggie-wash will probably cure.
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I’m about to move to Belfast, so just a stone’s throw across Penobscot bay…. The Coop there is supreme. Blue Hill is next on our to-live list, in about 5 or so years when my partner finally decides he wants to work at Brooklin boatyard.
I’m glad the Brooklin boatyard is still thriving. :)
A driving range and a cornfield about five minutes from my house have been purchased by some folks who now have a big sign on the driving range’s little office building that says “Organic Vegetables.” I’ve seen quite a few people in these fields, on and off, doing things with tillers and by hand. I imagine both of those fields were sprayed last year, but I’m OK with that if the stuff isn’t used this year. It will be interesting to see what they have on offer. I can’t eat corn and tomatoes, so I hope they aren’t going to overload on those. Eggplant, peppers, broccoli, cauliflower, salad stuff . . . one can hope.
In the meantime I will check my asparagus farm Wednesday on my way home from the hairdresser. I doubt if they are organic farmers, but with asparagus , fresh and local trumps Mexican (or Californian) and organic.
This is completely off-subject, but you were talking about pictures of puppies in the fuzzy-slug stage a while ago, and a friend sent me a great link to someone’s blog. The someone had bred her bitch to my friend’s stud dog, and 13 puppies were born on the 31st. She posted wonderful pictures of newborns on her blog. (The rest of her pictures are very good too.) I don’t know the bitch owner at all; she is Quebecoise, so her blog is in French. She is obviously an accomplished photographer. Here is the link:
http://passiondanois.wordpress.com/accouchement-tahyna-mai-2008/
You can advertise as ‘organic’ in the States without licensing? You can’t over here. It’s something like seven years toeing the line before you can claim organic, I think. So the big guys find ways around and the little guys can’t afford it–the big advantage to local is being able to ask questions, but mostly around here it’s all agro chemicals unfortunately. I do tend to buy organic first, but I’ll buy local anything before I’ll buy imported anything nonorganic.
The puppies are too much. I came all over funny and left a comment. :) I hope she reads English.
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She probably does, read English, even if she’s not fluent in speaking–Canadians are supposed to be bilingual, although my own Quebecois relatives didn’t seem to be very geared to English.
You’re not supposed to advertise organic without certification, and I think land has to be a minimum of three years without herbicide/pesticide/synthetic fertilizer before you can be considered organic: until then it’s transitional, if organic practices are used. I haven’t talked to these folks at all so don’t know what the story is. But this is definitely worth checking out. The stuff at my co-ops often looks pretty grim, and this is not because it’s organic, it’s because it’s OLD.
Yes. What price philosophy over pleasure?
One of the good things about living in total ag country…. farmer’s markets are very plentiful. =)
I actually have a comment from a different blog further down, but as I can only come here every week or so anymore (being a crazy busy college kid), the comments are already closed.
I would love to take a look at some of the music you’re writing…. not necessarily to hear it, but one of my main courses of study is comparing language and it’s uses to music (I’m a double major in music and linguistics, and i think this is going to be my collective thesis). I would love to see how someone who is used to manipulating words (in a beautiful manner, I might add) manipulates chordal structures and devices to get her point across in music.
If this is crazy, or Against the Rules, I understand. Just wondering. =)
Yipe. No, just terrifying. I’ve only finished ONE twenty-second piece and the learning curve is so steep gravity is tipping me off the slope. I only started this composing joke a few months ago with exercises involving using four notes and a given time signature. You’re going to have to wait till I grow up a little more. :)
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Those online organic sellers are going to get a serious wake-up call someday when someone else comes along with a better website. For goodness sakes… our local organic folks have a better website than that, and they only service this area. Maybe I should get them in touch with those other twits…
Just reading your travails made my teeth hurt.
(My pecadillo is yarn. I now have *way* more than I could usefully use in a year – oh, and music books. I also have more books full of songs/music/ stuff than I could possibly learn in 4 years- oh, and craft supplies… and… and… I need to simplify, I think :)
LOL! I’m there. I think one of the reasons I resist re-learning to knit is that I don’t need to get acquistive about anything ELSE, and yarn is obviously addictive. There’s at least one other serious yarnie reading this blog. :) But I sure have the too much sheet music.
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I tried to reply to your ‘define next’ question under ‘Composing’, but I think comments have shut down for that one. So. By ‘next’ I mean, after you have finished setting Peter’s poem to music… that is what you’re working on currently, correct?
More or less. I’m setting TWO of Peter’s poems and I still haven’t finished the sonatina-ette. Taking on too much? Moi? :)
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Heh. Nevah.
You only live once. Make the most of it(:
(Unless you believe in re-incarnation, but even in that case you don’t get transfer credits ;)