“The Great Displacement” — with a title that references the Great Migration of the 1920s to the 1970s, when more than six million Black people migrated from the South to cities in the North — tells a story of widespread human relocation unfolding in real time. Journalist Jake Bittle, a staff writer at Grist, takes readers on a tour of climate change-ravaged landscapes across the United States, with stops in Big Pine Key, Florida; Kinston, North Carolina; Santa Rosa, California; Pointe-au-Chien, Louisiana; Houston, Texas; Pinal County, Arizona; and Norfolk, Virginia. In each location, Bittle seeks out residents of communities already devastated by climate change — from an orchardist whose collection of rare tropical fruits was wiped out by Hurricane Irma, to cattle ranchers and cotton farmers whose operations in the desert are drying up in tandem with drought-stricken water supplies.

Everywhere Bittle goes, people are moving. He favors the word “displacement” over “migration,” writing that the latter “implies an intentional, one directional action” while displacement “conveys the reality: these movements will be unpredictable, chaotic, and life-changing.” Deftly intertwined within the narratives teased from hundreds of interviews are the complex realities of the unknowns of climate change — what every human across the globe is facing, though, as Bittle reports, not in equal measure. The impacts of displacement — dispossession, homelessness, loss of social support networks and the erosion of culture— will be felt disproportionately, with Indigenous people, communities of color and low-income areas on the frontlines. Navigating a dizzying maze of insurance payouts (and lack thereof), federal disaster relief (ditto), the booms and busts of the private housing market, and climate adaptation measures adopted based on tax revenue potential, Bittle paints a disturbing portrait of how, in the wake of a neighborhood razed by fire or eclipsed by the rising sea, some people get left behind while others are buoyed to relative safety. “Climate change is applying stress to the social and economic order, widening cracks that have been there the whole time,” writes Bittle.

While there is no way to prophesy where climate disaster will strike down to the zip code or neighborhood, the stories shared in this book and Bittle’s thorough reporting provide evidence that reliable predictions can often be made based on any number of factors, from flood and fire zones to depleted aquifers and aging or inadequate infrastructure. The end chapter entertains what the future may bring: Similar to the Great Migration, people are likely to move north, or inland, and the exodus will be even more far reaching, “uprooting millions of people in every region of the country.”

A question that Bittle returns to time and again isn’t why to move but how. There are the practical pieces, sure, like how to finance a move to a “less risky” area, but then there are questions around how to navigate the loss of not only a physical home but also a sense of place. How does one grieve giving up the dream of teaching their child to ride a bike on the same quiet tree-lined street where they also learned? Or leaving behind the house their grandfather built, brick by brick? Or letting go of the bayous that sustained their family for generations, for millennia?

Holli Cederholm

The post Book Review: “The Great Displacement” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.

The Greenhorns’ ”The New Farmer’s Almanac” has been an invaluable source of inspiration for farmers and anyone interested in the world of growing things, and its sixth volume, released in March 2023, continues to encourage and stimulate the minds of its audience. Packed with a wealth of knowledge, practical advice and personal stories, this edition is a comprehensive guide that serves as an essential companion for anyone stepping into the world of agriculture.

Like the many traditional farmers’ almanacs out there, this one is also chaptered by month. It, too, includes a celestial calendar for the year. One of the standout features of this edition is its diverse content submitted by writers from across the country. It covers a wide range of topics that are relevant to modern farming practices: regenerative growing, social justice issues, tales of water usage, and specific plant information. Each section is thoughtfully curated, providing readers with a comprehensive understanding of the complexities and challenges faced by farmers today.

“The New Farmer’s Almanac” also offers the reader a wide look at what is happening in agriculture and related fields without limiting the scope to rural spaces. Pictures and words documenting “A Monument to Sharing” can inspire similar projects in folks’ own cities. The monument consists of 32 orange trees in planters located near the Ann Street Entrance of Los Angeles State Historic Park. Each planter has a quote from a neighbor who lives nearby and people are invited to gently pick ripe fruit. In another section an interview with Farmer Shawn of Life Do Grow Farm in North Philadelphia gives insight into the life path of a city farmer. In the writing “A Space to Heal” by Michele Scott we hear about the author’s deep connection to a garden while she was incarcerated.

This almanac is meant to be read over time and can be picked up, put down and shared. With a modern layout and lots of visual elements throughout, the reader can enjoy just flipping through and taking in the black and white photos, drawings from artists, and even a cartoon about weeds.

There are many personal stories of farmers and land tenders that evoke joy and tears. What sets this almanac apart is its emphasis on community building and collaboration. The almanac not only provides valuable information, but it also acts as a platform for recognizing and building connections with like-minded individuals, encouraging working together towards a more sustainable future.

Denise DeSpirito, Of the Spirit Herbals, Rockland, Maine

The post Book Review: “The New Farmer’s Almanac” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.

“The Devil’s Element” is a timely introduction to the nuance and complexity of the issue of phosphorus and its impacts — and should be a wake-up call for eco-conscious readers. With a biting wit and human-focused storytelling, author Dan Egan masterfully illustrates how the connection between phosphorus and human society is one of constant balance between innovation and destruction, from the first recorded uses of phosphorus to the present day.

Phosphorus has revolutionized the efficiency and scale of modern agriculture, but its present mismanagement is poisoning our waters without cheap or easy solutions. Egan deftly weaves the history of phosphorus through human history, from ancient people discovering the usefulness of bone and manure in agriculture, to the Incas of Peru using guano, to the bone robbers of the Battle of Waterloo, to conflicts in the Western Sahara.

As he moves through the past, present and potential future of the complex interaction between phosphorus, human society and the surrounding environment, Egan’s central goal is to make the information comprehensible and readable. “The Devil’s Element” is detailed, but economical; the threads of the story that Egan manages to tie together reach far out into time and space while remaining undeniably digestible. He is a master of pithy one-liners and hilariously horrifying descriptions, like the “guacamole-thick” toxic algae choking waterways spanning the United States.

He has a knack for finding and choosing bizarre anecdotes and sources, including a professor at Johns Hopkins who conducts ancient chemical experiments (and strongly advised Egan against doing certain ones himself) and a Florida man who almost died from phosphorus exposure while trying to escape the police. These anecdotes are wryly funny, but Egan brings a stark humanity to “The Devil’s Element,” too, through his one-on-one interactions with people immediately faced with the negative impacts of phosphorus pollution, from a woman trying to save her precious Lake Eerie to a Florida beach vacationer weighing the risk of dipping her toes into toxic blue-green algae.

Egan’s sections about the role that farmers play in the phosphorus crisis, particularly in the Midwest, is nuanced but bleak. His interviews with reluctant farmers in that area show they are often not spreading phosphorus-rich fertilizer to grow food, but corn for ethanol. Egan makes it clear that most farmers who are contributing to the crisis don’t know how to stop using phosphorus in a way that damages the local environment, which can be a frustrating removal of agency, but also illustrates the need for top-down approaches to solve the crisis.

Though Egan is clear-eyed about the challenge presented by the phosphorous paradox, the solutions he presents can feel muddled. There are a few loose ends, but Egan aptly attempts to close the loop on the phosphorus story by talking about innovations in treating manure, recycling urine and processing waste. He recognizes that most of these solutions are in their infancy, but the discussion leaves the reader with a sense of hope that maybe if we put our minds to it, we can stop poisoning the planet and feed humanity, all at the same time.

Sam Schipani, Bangor, Maine

The post Book Review: “The Devil’s Element” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.

The gathering of agricultural data, from soil types to market rates, has a long history. The earliest states sought to impact the welfare of agriculturalists and consequently the welfare of their appropriative taxation schemes. Basic cadastral mapping has developed into surveys, sampling and data collection of all kinds. In historical terms these efforts have been state-directed, centralized projects up until now. With affordable diagnostic tools, global access to the internet, and a networked community of farmer-scientists, data gathering is potentially decentralized and far more detailed than ever before. Combined with an updated ethic of the “commons,” which prioritizes local governance, and active stewardship, we are on the cusp of what author Dorn Cox calls, “The Great Regeneration.”

In his highly optimistic book of that name, Cox highlights some of the elements and organizations leveraging this nuanced collection of data in a unified goal of regenerative agriculture. As the research director at Wolfe’s Neck Center for Sustainable Agriculture and the Environment in Freeport, Maine, Cox has a unique perspective on this movement. Having convened a global consortium of organizations, corporations, researchers and land stewards, Wolfe’s Neck Center has become a hub of hubs in a sense with its initiative, Open Technology Ecosystem for Agricultural Management (OpenTEAM).

It is not easy to propose a new paradigm, and Cox reaches for several different metaphors to communicate just what the future may look like. For example, in a kitchen, knowledge can be shared by way of a recipe, but the tools in the kitchen (like a mixer) codify and steer that knowledge, often embedding mechanical and scientific particulars. Similarly, the knowledge shared in a village coffee shop is nuanced, reciprocative and bound by the users of that knowledge. Cox brings the reader along eventually to the value of software in its unique capacity as a tool to “rapidly compound our shared knowledge and begin to comprehend and manage complexity.” This takes us quite far afield from the kitchen mixer let alone the field cultivator, but the ambitious motivation is matched by the overwhelming challenges we face like climate change, environmental contamination and population rise.

“The Great Regeneration” has its main contribution to sustainable agriculture in its encouragement that our ecosystems — as well as the tools we use to understand our ecosystems — require “adaptive management,” an idea which reaches beyond the passive user of technology. We must be participants willing to collaborate with a mindset of abundance, sharing our knowledge. Finding the balance between the vulnerability of openness and the intransigence of the gatekeeper is explored in examples of commons with good governance. A “Knowledge Commons” replete with active participation, embedded sovereignty, and technology with which to wield its power will be key in repairing damaged ecosystems. Will it truly represent a break from history’s high modernist visions like the Green Revolution? This is a hopeful book, but as someone who has a hard time syncing my Bluetooth with my earbuds … I was not totally convinced. Nevertheless, the point is well taken that farmers’ participation is critical if we are to avoid another centralizing, top-down chapter in the story of Western anthropocentric farming systems.

John Bliss, Scarborough, Maine

The post Book Review: “The Great Regeneration” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.

Jensen writes an entertaining cookbook, equal parts stories and science. The introduction references her first experience in a bakery on the coast of Maine; though in a different coastal town, I, too, began my first career in food service at a small Maine bakery. She describes the camaraderie, the community and the safety of a chosen family, all feelings I could relate to. Jensen’s experience in Maine built the foundation for years of bread baking spanning New England and the East Coast, and that education shines through in the wisdom of this book.

Her passion for both the process and the results of baking are apparent as she guides readers through the biology of wheat, the different ways it’s classified and how flour is made. Not to deter those who may require less of the nuts and bolts of bread making, Jensen then jumps into the various methods for making sourdough and soon, my favorite, the recipes — there are over 80. They use flours milled from common grains, like whole wheat flour and bread flour, as well as those that may be less familiar, like spelt, rye and einkorn. Home bakers can try out methods for various loaves, pita, fougasse and paratha. Feeling fancy? Check out the recipes for buttermilk orange bread, candied ginger rye or cardamom bun bread. Additionally, Jensen provides plenty of recipes that use sourdough discard, the portion of a sourdough starter that is removed when you refresh your starter. Try out her recipes for rye brownies, cheddar and black pepper biscuits, or the sourdough chocolate chip cookies for a surefire winner.

With beautiful photographs by Johnny and Charlotte Autry, which offer step-by-step visual guidance, and a foreword by notable food writer and chef Claire Saffitz, “Flour Power” will inspire all levels of bakers to take on new challenges and experiment in the kitchen. I may have returned to a more normal routine in my life, but the sourdough phenomenon appears to be here to stay.

Caitlyn Barker

The post Book Review: “Flour Power” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.

“Drawdown,” edited by Paul Hawken, makes an audacious claim for its subtitle: “The Most Comprehensive Plan Ever Proposed to Reverse Global Warming.” But, it lives up to its claim of offering a broad picture of what the Earth, and we humans, need to do if we want to reverse global climate catastrophe.

What is “drawdown”? It means responding to this existential threat to our planet by not only zeroing out more carbon emissions but also by sequestering carbon in our atmosphere to reduce its warming effects.

The book provides summaries of 100 strategies, most or all of which need to be implemented if we are to turn around our dangerously changing climate. There are some we would expect: solar/wind energy, electric vehicles, composting, forest preservation, reusing paper and plastic. But there are many other lesser-practiced methods: Wave and tidal power, increased family planning, “smart” thermostats, expanding bamboo use, bullet trains, and alternative cement products are other necessary approaches that help make this a truly “comprehensive plan.”

Most of the methods mentioned include a calculated number of gigatons of carbon dioxide (CO2) that can be sequestered by 2050, an estimated cost, and the amount of savings through implementation. For example, expanded rooftop solar is expected to reduce 24.6 gigatons of CO2 at a cost of $453 billion with a savings of $3.45 trillion. The authors calculated refrigeration as the most effective way to reduce carbon dioxide, figuring almost 90 gigatons of CO2 can be sequestered by changing how we cool things and preventing refrigerant chemicals from escaping into the environment.

“Drawdown” separates 80 of its approaches into seven categories on topics such as energy, food, land use and materials. It also has 20 “Coming Attractions,” good ideas, such as seaweed as a miracle food for humans and animals, that weren’t being widely applied in 2017, when the book was published, but are ready for prime time now.

A plant-rich diet — with less meat — ranked No. 4 at 66 gigatons of reduced CO2, but reducing food waste — eating crooked carrots instead of throwing them “away” — ranked even higher at 70.5 gigatons. Our food system is a huge carbon polluter, but it can also be a path to carbon reduction and sequestration.

How do we turn around a climate teetering on the edge of collapse? Can we tackle this problem directly without causing panic or leaving it to powerful corporations or politicians who may put profit and political expediency above science and a healthy environment? How much must we depend on expensive technological fixes that may fail or not be implemented effectively? Will we require paradigm shifts in public attitudes that haven’t yet taken place? “Drawdown” barely addresses these thorny dilemmas.

However, “Drawdown” offers a big picture of what we as a global society need to do to bring back a more balanced and livable environment. This means changes in lifestyle for most of us. The book emphasizes not just what we can do as individuals but also what organized groups, like MOFGA, and movements, like organic agriculture, must do, too.

Larry Dansinger, Bangor, Maine

The post Book Review: “Drawdown” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.

“What Kind of Ancestor Do You Want to Be?” is a thought-provoking book that encourages readers to consider their impact on future generations and the environment.

This collection presents the idea that we are all ancestors-in-waiting and that the choices we make today will shape the world that our descendants inherit. It draws on insights from Indigenous communities and ecology to suggest that we should approach our role as ancestors with humility, reverence and respect for the natural world.

One of the strengths of the book is the variety of personal stories, interviews, philosophical insights and scientific data that is woven together within its pages from the many collaborators who are pondering this same question. Besides the actual poems included within, there is a poetic tone that carries throughout the book making it pleasant to read even when dealing with some of the heavier aspects of our current time.

In Enrique Salmón’s contributed essay, the author of “Iwígara: American Indian Ethnobotanical Traditions and Science,” which was reviewed in the spring 2022 issue of The MOF&G, states he wants to be the kind of ancestor that is known to the Earth as a friend. Salmón offers a practice he gives to his students for knowing a place and connecting to it: visit it weekly at sunrise or sunset, use all one’s senses to take it in, notice its changes, one’s feelings and so on. Of course, land and place are important to what kind of ancestor people want to be and how people connect with their ancestors. Winona LaDuke tells us to care for the place we know so those that follow can live there too. Lindsey Lunsford’s poignant essay repeats her desire to leave a place to sit in the world — land — to the children of tomorrow as her grandparents left to her. Even within this though she writes of the horrors that have happened to Black people, her people, that have left so many displaced and without land or such a place to pass on.

Corn is mentioned in more than one essay as an ancestor. Kaylena Bray writes with veneration about the relationship between farmers and corn, and about saving their seeds as a way to remain sovereign. Rowen White, founder and creative director of Sierra Seeds from the Mohawk community of Akwesasne, begins her piece in her cornfield and goes on to weave stories of seeds and her prayer that her ancestral legacy will be “that of a seed song sung from the mouths of her grandchildren that know no hunger.”

Overall, “What Kind of Ancestor Do You Want to Be?” is a timely and important book that encourages us, from many different views and voices, to think beyond our own lifetimes. Picking a line to summarize the book from Lyla June Johnston’s poem “Time Traveler,” “It’s not about you. It’s not about you. It’s about the song that is traveling through.” May we all consider the impact of our choices on future generations and thoughtfully consider the themes of this book. 

Denise DeSpirito, Of the Spirit Herbals, Rockland, Maine

The post Book Review: “What Kind of Ancestor Do You Want to Be?” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.

As a chocolate lover and morning coffee drinker, I worry about the impacts a changing climate will have on my favorite foods. Those same concerns are what inspired Michael Hoffmann, an entomologist studying biological control, writer Carrie Koplinka-Loehr, and Danielle L. Eiseman, who once worked as a chef, to collaborate on this book. They structure the book like a menu — from pre-dinner drinks to salads, mains, sides and desserts — to explain what is happening and what we can do about it.

First they set the table. Instead of linens and silver, they set out three big challenges the world faces: an increasing population; preservation of agricultural land; and nourishing the poorest people. They explain how the impacts on water, soil, plants and pests are altering our menu “as unprecedented climate changes make it more difficult to maintain or increase food production.”

Imagine a holiday backyard barbecue, or a tailgate party, without … beer! Water shortages and warming temperatures affect everything from growing hops to the brewing process itself. As for wine, grapes are sensitive to temperature and depend on a period of winter chill to set fruit. What will happen to our vineyards as winters grow warmer?

Like grape growers, I’ve had to figure out how to deal with increasingly hot summers and I’m sure I’m not the only gardener in the Northeast creating shade frames for tender greens. To highlight how the warming climate has changed what’s in our salad, the authors focus on two fundamental salad ingredients: avocados and olive oil. Who knew avocados are so picky?

Moving on to the main dish, we may have to rethink our love affair with meat. Not only is climate change affecting the animals we depend on for protein but raising livestock contributes to climate change. Overfishing, pollution and ocean acidification are taking a toll on seafood. Scientists and farmers are working to keep meat on the menu, according to the authors. New breeds of heat-tolerant chicken and cattle could be developed, ranchers could embrace regenerative agriculture and silvopasturing, and lesser-known fish could be introduced to the menu.

Even if you give up meat for beans and rice (or barley or quinoa) you’re not in the clear. Lack of water and increased temperatures will affect rice harvests, having a huge impact on global food security. A warmer climate means more pests and fungi attacking wheat, and potato growers may have to move north or to higher altitudes to cultivate their crops.

Fortunately, the final section of the book focuses on solutions. The authors advocate for “climate-smart agriculture,” which can look a lot like organic farming. Possible solutions include building soils (using cover crops and low-till), planting a diversity of crops, rotating crops to minimize pests, planting for pollinators, and adopting new technologies. Even low-tech ideas, such as locating small farms in urban areas, could help by reducing transportation distances. The final chapter outlines seven steps everyone can take to tackle climate change.

You can learn more about climate and food at their website ourchangingmenu.com.

Sue Smith-Heavenrich, Candor, New York                                                                                

The post Book Review: “Our Changing Menu” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.

“How to Sell a Poison: The Rise, Fall and Toxic Return of DDT” by writer and medicine historian Elena Conis is a meticulous chronicle of the complex forces that brought the insecticide DDT into prominent use, eventual disuse, and more recent resurgence. Though DDT is the focus of Conis’ research, ultimately, this is a story about the social, economic and political entanglements of science. Told as a gripping narrative of promise and disappointment, with tense courtrooms and research epiphanies, it is an excellent read. Though, at times I struggled to keep track of all of the people, organizations and research projects woven throughout and could have used a map or infographic to illustrate the many pieces of the larger DDT picture.

Created during World War II, DDT gave an edge to the U.S. military in its ability to kill insects, from mosquitos to bedbugs. It was hailed as a safe and powerful wonder of modern science, and DDT entered the consumer marketplace post-war. DDT was sprayed and dusted onto crops, livestock and mattresses; impregnated into wallpaper, plywood, cleaning solutions and fake flowers; and misted throughout city streets. Some proponents even demonstrated DDT’s “safety” by eating it.

Despite its effectiveness as an insecticide (though with limitations over time due to eventual DDT resistance), changes in the health of people and the environment were happening. With momentum from Rachel Carson’s 1962 book “Silent Spring,” which brought to light the damaging effects of DDT, as well as tireless efforts by scientists and organizations, from the United Farm Workers to grassroots environmental organizations, by 1972 restrictions on DDT were being put in place. For two decades, DDT use declined — but not without opposition.

Some scientists had concerns about the consequences DDT bans would have on communities that suffered from high rates of malaria in less developed parts of the world; such bans were seen as a form of imperialism. Simultaneously, chemical and tobacco companies deployed powerful public relations firms to recast research that posed a threat to business, an effort which, like persistent toxic chemicals in the environment and our bodies, continues to pollute.

Even though DDT use had been on the decline, in 2006, in part due to the U.S. Agency for International Development and the World Health Organization stating that DDT was “one of the best tools we have against malaria,” global DDT use doubled from 2002 levels.

Conis demonstrates that science has been and continues to be a site where societal inequities, political differences and economic interests play out, reminding us that it is often the bodies and wellbeing of marginalized communities that carry the heaviest burdens. As I write this, areas of the Penobscot River have levels of DDT, PCBs (polychlorinated biphenyls) and dioxins so high that people should not eat more than two fish harvested from its waters per month. People everywhere, including in Maine, continue to live in the shadow of DDT.

Catherine Preston-Schreck, Bar Harbor, Maine

The post Book Review: “How to Sell a Poison” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.

This slim and well-referenced book offers a compelling description of what a truly sustainable community looks like. Author Sumanas Koulagi (full disclosure: I’m a personal acquaintance) examines an old concept called “swaraj” to define and then demonstrate how a community can practice self-sufficiency. This vison can apply to food production as easily as it does to manufacturing clothing or any other resource to meet a basic need.

The word “sustainable” is used often as an aspirational term for everything from agriculture to economic models to energy systems, but often — as can be the case with the term “organic” — the definition for each use of the word varies widely and is rarely mapped out. Mohandas Ghandhi, in his fight for the independence of the Indian people, defined self-rule for his followers simply by spinning thread from Indian cotton that he later wove into his own clothing. This act, called “khadi,” which he performed at independence rallies as well as in jail, short-circuited the modern industrial ideology that sent raw materials from India to Britain to be processed and then sold back to India and the rest of its empire. Calling for Indians to produce for Indians was central to the movement rejecting colonial rule.

After a rigorous definition of what Koulagi calls a Swaraj Development Vision (SDV) and an examination of the ideal of sustainability, he uses khadi as an example of how systems that begin as sustainable models can be corrupted as well as how they can be perfected. He points out that self-sufficiency and efficiency have always been incompatible. He believes individuals and communities should strive to balance creativity — which he labels a fundamental human right — with “drudgery” or work, which is an obligation of every individual within a community. Too much drudgery deprives the individual of their creative right, while unending creative endeavors shift that individual’s share of drudgery to others unfairly.

Labor in the SDV becomes the ideal means of exchange (primarily in the form of barter), including for taxation whenever possible. It’s also important that production, consumption and disposal should all take place within as short a distance as possible, visible to the entire community who share the impact.

The book continues with an assessment of modern khadi production in India, which has become more symbolic than a way of empowering individuals and communities, rife with inequities and corruption at many levels. Koulagi also describes examples where khadi production has lifted individuals and communities out of poverty simply by providing for themselves as Ghandhi had always envisioned. In this way the SDV can move from an ideal to a working model that, while not perfect, definitively allows communities to sustain themselves.

This is a hopeful book that pushes squarely against the global economic model, one small community at a time. In doing so Koulagi prescribes a simple non-violent vision of people working together to fulfill their own needs along with their neighbors.

Eric Rector, Monroe, Maine

The post Book Review: “Development as Swaraj” appeared first on Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners.