Seeding the Clouds

When we woke up to a veritable snow storm on our last day in Beijing, having enjoyed pleasant 70-degree weather just the day before, I was baffled. I later learned that the clouds had been "seeded" earlier in the week, which supposedly induces rainfall. I didn't know what that meant. In fact, I hadn't even heard of this practice until it backfired on the first of this month, spoiling our last day of vacation, and causing an international stir by creating one of the earliest Beijing snowfalls on record. But it turns out that cloud seeding is nothing new, and when it comes to the controversial practice (to say the least!) of messing with the weather patterns, China is leading the way.

In one 2006 report, the Chinese government spends about $50 million (USD) a year in their attempts to control the weather. (Current estimates are as high as $90 million!) It is estimated that China sends cloud-seeding aircraft on roughly 700 missions per year, loaded with a comparable number of rockets and artillery shells that are filled with chemicals such as silver iodide and mixed with dry ice. These rockets are then shot into the atmosphere in hopes that the chemical particulates released will aid in the formation of water vapor, which will then fall to the Earth as rain.

Although China has had a moderate amount of success with this practice, bringing much needed rain to drought-stricken areas and helping to extinguish raging forest fires in remote regions of the country, the path that they are heading down is a slippery slope indeed. Rumor has it that they made attempts to ensure sunny, favorable weather for the Summer Olympics, which were held in Beijing just last summer, by using this practice to coax rainfall out of any potentially moisture-rich clouds headed toward Beijing, inducing the rain to fall prematurely so as not to ruin their moments in the spotlight. I couldn't find any proof of whether this worked, though, or if it's even true. The skies were sunny, sure, but Beijing has been suffering from a nearly decade-long drought, so the scientists' claims may be more arrogant than they are accurate.

So arrogant, in fact, that they've done it again; created an unseasonal snowstorm that has, according to an article published today, already killed 40. In China's defense, they're not the only ones trying to outsmart Mother Nature; weather modification experiments have been going on in Europe, Asia, and even the U.S. for more than 50 years. Proponents of this practice argue that the main chemical components of the rockets-- silver iodide (which is found in iodized table salt) and carbon dioxide (found in the atmosphere)-- are harmless. Everything has a toxicity level, though-- even water! And who's to say what the long-term effects may be from prolonged exposure to these chemical rains?

The Chinese, however, are unapologetic in their cloud-seeding efforts. It seems to me that they plan to advance their civilization as rapidly as possible, and will only deal with the consequences when they (inevitably) arise. I'm all for scientific breakthroughs and development, but there's a fine line between weather modification and playing God; if it's not done responsibly, they'll have to answer to Mother Nature in the end, and she's quite a force to be reckoned with.

Obese Packaging

I came to the startling realization the other day that the shape of our bodies and the shape of our packaging has undergone an alarmingly parallel transformation over the past 50 years or so ...

Using soda as an example, let's first consider the 8-ounce bottle of Coke. This is one serving size of carbonated goodness, served up ice-cold in a glass bottle that -- once empty -- was returned to the bottler, who would carefully wash, sanitize, and refill the container. People took good care of these bottles (the fact that there was a small monetary incentive to do so certainly didn't hurt!) and, on average, bottlers were able to reuse the glass packages 25-30 times before the paint would start to fade and they were forced to take the bottles out of circulation. People also took better care of themselves back then; they kept portion sizes in check and put forth a little extra effort to keep themselves in circulation (so to speak).

By comparison, the 20-ounce bottle of Dr. Pepper on the left crams two and a half servings into it's shapeless plastic packaging, and -- despite the serving size on the label -- we generally pour all of that sweet, sugary liquid down our gullets in a single sitting, transferring the contents of the bulging container into our bulging bellies. Then we carelessly discard the single-use containers, thinking little of the cost, energy, and oil it takes to create a new container for yet another super-sized serving of soda. If we're lucky, the plastic bottles will be recycled, but this doesn't often happen.

Think about it -- the small, svelte, and shapely bottle of Coke could swap clothes with Barbie ... the big, bulging bottle of Dr. Pepper would be resigned to covering up in a flowing, shapeless mumu. Guess the phrase "you are what you eat" should extend to beverages, too!

Silent Spring: A Summary

Like any good tree hugger, I decided over the summer that I needed to read Silent Spring, Rachel Carson's "explosive bestseller" about the devastating effects of the chemical pesticide programs used during the 1950s and 1960s. I hear it referenced so often that I assume it's mandatory reading for entomologists, biologists, ecologists, and environmentalists alike. So I picked up a musty, crumbling paperback copy in a used book store one day and dove right in. I motored through the first couple of brief chapters pretty quickly, intrigued by Carson's answer to her own rhetorical question:

"How could intelligent beings seek to control a few unwanted species by a method that contaminated the entire environment and brought the threat of disease and even death to their own kind? Yet this is precisely what we have done. We have done it, moreover, for reasons that collapse the moment we examine them." (p. 20)

After that, however, things began to get very technical, very quickly. The book is structured as a commentary on a number of case studies done during the height of the indiscriminate chemical spraying era, from the late 1940s up to the early 1960s (when the book was published). Even though the jargon is kept to a minimum and most of the data is presented in layman's terms, it is a tedious and laborious read and I couldn't mentally process more than ten pages at a time. I aimed to get through one chapter per sitting, but with so much data crammed onto each water stained page, not even the chapters' blatantly incendiary titles (such as "Elixirs of Death", "Needless Havoc", and "No Birds Sing") could help me to maintain my focus.

As I slogged through the meaty middle chapters, I began to get an eerie feeling; it was both a sense of foreboding and deja vu. In case study after innumerable case study, while the locations, pests, and sometimes even the chemicals changed, the inevitably disastrous result was almost always the same.

When DDD was sprayed at Clear Lake in California to kill the gnats, the swan grebes died. When the hop growers of Washington and Idaho sprayed heptachlor to kill the strawberry root weevil, their crops died and the land remained unusable for years. When the U.S. Department of Agriculture sprayed dieldrin over Iroquois County, Illinois, to "eradicate" the Japanese beetle, the song birds of the region were wiped out within a matter of days. When DDT was sprayed in East Lansing to kill the gypsy moth and prevent Dutch Elm disease, the robins died. The list goes on and on, but the message is clear: saturating the country with chemical pesticides is bad... very bad. Got it.

Scientists came to discover that these poisons were stored in higher and higher concentrations as it worked its way up through the animals in the food chain. The initial spraying might not have killed a bug, for example, but it probably sickened an earthworm or a fish that ate several bugs, and in turn almost instantly killed a bird that ate several earthworms or fish. The birds that didn't die instantly were either rendered infertile or endured a long, drawn-out illness before the twitching and agonizingly painful convulsions set in that, after much suffering, ultimately killed them. And-- perhaps worst of all-- the programs didn't even work long-term.

What these short-sighted chemists and government officials failed to realize was that it's nearly impossible to eradicate a single species of pesky insect; those that survived not only reproduced at a much faster rate than their natural predators, but they became resistant to the pesticides more quickly as well, rendering subsequent sprayings ineffective. Without a healthy bird population to keep these insect populations in check, the pests' numbers can exceed pre-spraying levels in a matter of years (and sometimes months!) As Carson explains:

By their very nature chemical controls are self-defeating, for they have been devised and applied without taking into account the complex biological systems against which they have been blindly hurled ... (p. 218)

She continues:

"The really effective control of insects is that applied by nature, not by man. Populations are kept in check by something the ecologists call the resistance of the environment: The amount of food available, conditions of weather and climate, the presence of competing or predatory species, are all critically important ... [The second neglected fact it] the truly explosive power of a species to reproduce once the resistance of the environment has been weakened ... (p. 218)

Thankfully, the sprayings eventually stopped, but not before our soil and groundwater was heavily contaminated. I know many of these same pesticides are still in use today, albeit in much smaller concentrations. Still, the best way to fight a force of nature is still with nature itself. For in her final paragraph, Carson issues a harsh admonishment, warning that:

"The 'control of nature' is a phrase conceived in arrogance, born of the Neanderthal age of biology and philosophy, when it was supposed that nature exists for the convenience of man ... It is our alarming misfortune that so primitive a science has armed itself with the most modern and terrible weapons, and that in turning them against the insects it has also turned them against the [E]arth."

Shortening the Supply Chain

Do you know where your dinner came from? Today, I do. I made a delicious pasta dish using homemade ravioli from the Madison farmers' market. It's fresh, I recognize every ingredient on the label, and-- best of all-- it's relatively local. The pesto sauce was made from the basil on my back deck, and the cherry tomato garnish was also harvested from a plant out back. I would have taken a picture of the meal itself (which was served with a side of locally grown greens) but it was in my belly before the thought ever occurred to me.

I wish I could eat meals such as this every day; it's fresh, it's flavorful, and (from a broad environmental standpoint, if not a personal one) it's frugal. However, it is becoming increasingly difficult to prepare healthy meals from unprocessed (or minimally processed) foods. If you shop at a grocery store, this task becomes next to impossible. The foods on the inner shelves-- the juice boxes, cake mixes, and snacks-- have been almost entirely created in a laboratory somewhere; the meats come from animals that were drugged, sickened, and tortured during their short and miserable lives; the eggs are six to nine months old by the time they reach us while the other dairy products have had the nutrients pasteurized right out of them; and even the produce has been genetically modified, saturated with a myriad of pesticides, or both! And to top it all off, the vast majority of these items have been trucked in from some distance away; the average fruit or vegetable travels about 1,500 miles to get to our plate.

I will admit that there are some things I like about the current food chain; I can get fresh produce (like citrus, avocados, and other tropical fruits) that we just can't grow here-- they would never survive Chicago's temperamental climate. But why ship tomatoes from Mexico when there is an abundance of them grown right here in the Midwest? It just doesn't make any sense to me. Also, some of the products manufactured by this country's food scientists (microwave dinners, instant oatmeal, packaged cookies, condensed soups and the like)-- even though they are nutritionally worthless-- can be convenient in a pinch. The problem is that most Americans eat this garbage on a daily basis; and some rely on these items for each and every meal!

The third factor is the cost; government subsidies and the overwhelming imbalance between supply and demand have driven prices down to the point where industrial farmers will never be able to turn a profit. To pay a fair price for meats (for example) that were responsibly and naturally raised is a sticker shock for some, while completely cost prohibitive for others. I saw on a news broadcast the other night that, despite recent price hikes on grocery essentials, Americans on average are only spending 5% of their income on food, compared with the 10% our grandparents doled out just 50 years ago! I'd be willing to bet that they ate a lot better, too.

While I would love to go off the grid entirely, to plant a huge garden, make everything from scratch, and only buy my food from local farmers, that simply isn't realistic for me at the moment. So I splurge on real food whenever and wherever I can, and when I do make a meal using entirely fresh ingredients, I savor the fruits of my labor.

Daisies!

Nothing special or profound to report here; I just wanted to share my small contribution to the greening of the urban jungle that is Chicago. I love, love, LOVE Gerbera daisies, and these sunny little beauties are one of my favorite features in my current apartment. A vibrant splash of color on an otherwise dull, gray, and impervious surface, they provide a nice contrast to my primarily green container garden, and happily soak up the sun's blazing rays that drench my deck with its western exposure.

Fall is coming, and these flowers won't last but another month (or two); this is just a feeble attempt to preserve a moment in time, to savor the beauty and save the image. When I look back on these pictures in a few months' time, during the dull and dreary doldrums of a Midwestern winter, maybe they will make me smile, and remind me that the sunny days of spring aren't as far off as they will undoubtedly seem.

Primo Parking

I was cruising around a parking lot at a mini mall in a swanky southwest suburb, looking for a place to park. There were no regular spots to be found so, out of desperation, I pulled into a spot up front . It was not a handicap spot (I would NEVER do that), but it still had a sign. When I drove by before, I assumed it was a designated spot for expectant mothers or something like that. Well, if anyone was watching, I could stick out my gut, hold the small of my back, and waddle into the store. I was only going to be a minute, and I had to get to work!

As it turns out, it wasn't pregnant lady parking at all; better yet, I had every right to park there! The spot was reserved for fuel-efficient vehicles, and my 2006 Sentra certainly fit the bill. It's no Prius, but it averages 33 miles a gallon, which more than makes up for its poor acceleration abilities. In fact, that sign made my whole day. Kudos to the environmentally conscious parking lot engineers of Kane and DuPage counties! The actual design of the lot is a mess, which makes no sense to me, but at least they got one thing right. Hopefully they're blazing a trail that future parking lot construction and design teams will want to follow. They've got my repeat business, and it's all because of that sign!

It's The Most Wonderful Time...

I'm not talking about the holidays, or even the start of a new school year (especially not that!) I'm referring to the plethora of fresh produce that is in season this time of year. Farmer's markets everywhere are overflowing with nature's bounty! Whatever adjectives you want to use to describe your fruit or vegetable of choice-- ripe, crisp, plump, juicy, sweet, etc.-- it all applies. And prices have never been cheaper-- these farmers have corn and tomatoes and zucchini coming out of their ears! All they want to do is get it out of their gardens and into our bellies; now who can argue with that?

With so many delicious and affordable options available right now, I'm tempted to buy extra and try my hand at canning, pickling, or even freeze-drying, so I can enjoy these farm fresh tastes all year long. I saw the first apples of the season last week, though, so I know that I'll need to act fast, because like all good things, this too shall pass. In the meantime, I'm eating any and every piece of produce I can get my hands on-- with food this healthy and fresh, why should anyone have to choose? Eat your hearts out, fellow veggie lovers!