Holier than thou

Wow. I've just been bitched out by some greenie who thinks my urban gardening, vermicomposting, waiting-for-the-bus ways put me in the same category with people who super-commute from the burbs in their SUVs. Why? Because I dared -- DARED! -- to suggest that bicyclists should ride sober and follow the rules of the road.

Wow. And I thought I was judgemental!

UPDATE: Our greenie from Canada came back, and -- surprise! -- we had more in common than we thought. Welcome, Justin!

Little Shop of Horrors, on my roof

DG came home from our recent trip a little sooner than I did. One of those nights we spoke on the phone, and I asked him if he had checked our vegetables, which grow in a large box on the roof.

There was a long pause, and I knew immediately that he hadn't. "I probably should do that," he said, quickly adding that it had rained quite a bit the week we were gone.

"Be careful. It might have turned into a Little Shop of Horrors up there," I warned him.

Truer words were never spoken. Since we compost, seeds wind up in the fertilizer and sometimes grow. Usually we pull them out, but when I saw a couple of squash-like plants, I figured I'd leave them and see what they turned out to be.

In two weeks these plants grew from cute little things with a couple of leaves, into a monstrous patch, four feet high and wide, shading everything else in the planter with leaves the size of two hands together atop stalks covered in small spines. While unpleasantly prickly, they do have lots and lots of flowers, and what looks like it might be the beginning of some sort of squash-like fruit.

So, I dutifully cut back the leaves and left the flowers and fruits. Because if anything is going to give Teh N00b superpowers, this will definitely be it. I'll leave it to greater minds (you know who you are) to decide what kind of costumed crime-fighting can come out of this.

"Compostable Plastic," take two

Well, the "compostable plastic" has gone through another round in my worm bin, but it's still completely intact. So, we'll give it another cycle....

I think I'll eat some worms

A few weeks ago I went with Teh N00b and his Favorite Person in the Whole World (and associated parents) to the Garfield Conservatory. There they have a kids' area. There one finds a toddler-level table where kids can dig in the "dirt" to look for "worms" and "insects" and plant "vegetables."

Everything has to go in quotes because all the things involved are actually plastic. I suppose this is cleaner, and means they don't have to install a sink for washing up. Plus it means that real potatoes and carrots will not be harmed. Fair enough. But I think this is also about the parents and their fear of the "ick factor."

For example:
Now, I don't have a problem with worms. I keep them in the basement, after all. But I guess many other people think that worms are disgusting.

Me, I save my disgust for truly nasty things. Like cockroaches.

Or maybe they just want to protect real worms from the inevitable. Teh N00b is, I fear, way ahead of the curve there. Last summer while gardening I left a small bowl of worms I'd found (and intended to return to their bin) near him.

"Where did they go? What did you do with them?"

That's the day Teh N00b learned to shrug. For my part, I intend to go on believing that he just dumped them in the dirt. Because that's the sort of thing parents do.

Compostable Plastic, you say? Another Chiquita failure

Me and my worms are always up for a composting challenge. Luckily we have Chiquita to provide one.

Latin Americanists such as myself have reason to distrust claims made by Chiquita, formerly the United Fruit Company, purveyors of fine tropic fruits and Guatemalan military coups. More recently, Chiquita was fined by the U.S. Justice Department for making large protection pay-offs to Columbian rebel groups, including the FARC and ELN. Even leaving aside the question of whether banana production for the world market is inherently an environmental problem, this is not a company that has a track record of respecting human rights in general (which for my part, I see as integrally linked to environmental rights).

Anyway, two months ago Don Gusano purchased salad from Fresh Express (a Chiquita subsidiary) which came in a plastic-looking container than proudly declared itself to be "eco-friendly," made of corn, and compostable.

I could hear my worms saying in their tiny, high-pitched invertebrate voices, "Bring it on, bitch!"

So I did.

On March 15, 2008, I cut this plastic up into palm-sized pieces and put it in my worm bin.


On April 30 -- about 45 days later, which is average for my bin -- I harvested that layer. I noticed the normal level of decomposition -- egg shells were still in tact, everything else was broken down. The "compostable plastic", however, looked about the same as when I'd put it in (except dirtier).

Well, far be it for me to question the claims of Chiquita's scientists. I'll give it another round and report back. Meanwhile, you all can take bets on how many YEARS it takes for this stuff to rot -- and how many governments Chiquita manages to overthrow between now and then.

Worm blogs... apparently, they DO exist

Ok, I originally thought when I saw the comment on my post about doggie blogs that one of my friends was messing with me. But no, it's for real. Or at least, if it's someone I know messing with me, they planned it way, way in advance:

http://mealwormsunite.blogspot.com/

I should point out that meal worms and red wigglers are not the same. They are very, very different creatures. Earthworms vote Democratic, for starters.

Still, it is nice to see the invertebrate perspective. Hope to see you back, Mealy Guy. And no, we don't hate the worms just because I don't think a worm blog would be all that interesting. I mean, come on, how many people (who don't know me personally) are reading this crap?! Writing a blog is not a sure-fire way to earn my respect.

My worms have my respect. They eat my trash, amuse Teh N00b, and fertilize my garden. And if I really hated them, I wouldn't share my coffee.

And that, my mealy interlocutor, is the true test of friendship.

World Peace Through Doggie Blogs?!

People like this need a life. Pets do not need blogs, folks. They just don't.

Except, of course, my worms. My wonderful red wigglers, that I seriously considered taking to a local pet psychic just to see what would happen ("I don't know, they're not eating as well recently. Especially not Percival here. Are they depressed?").

Let's face it, a worm blog would be pretty boring. "Today: Munch, shit, munch, shit, munch, shit. Oh goodie, more coffee grounds. Reproduce. Repeat." I'm am very glad to say that I couldn't actually find anyone who tried to write a blog on behalf of their worms. If you find one, please don't tell me. I don't want to know.