I was talking last night with Chris Young from Integrum; the discussion turned to spirituality and Zen practice. Young has been doing Zen for a while and is a Buddhist. I became interested in Zen in college primarily because of Zen koans, which are short questions or dialogues whose apparently irrational answers are designed to make one conscious of one's own mind and the way our habits of perception influence, and indeed distort, our ability to experience truth. I mentioned to Chris that I was kind of thinking about experimenting with some other aspects of Zen even though I don't agree with much of what I thought Buddhism to assert.
I didn't have time to go into the real particulars of my viewpoint in our convo, and I think this is an interesting topic, so I'll give a brief rundown here.
Particular among the disagreements is that, whereas I thought Buddhism had as a tenet the assertion that time is cyclical and unending, I hold that time is static. That is to say, that change does not exist and that everything – 'past' and 'future' included – exists all at once. Since time is generally understood as a way to measure change, my assertion is essentially that time does not exist.
Furthermore, since I hold that all events and instants exist concurrently – right now – this also means that reality is deterministic. This may sound weird coming from me, a big physics buff and fan of quantum mechanics (which is a physics worldview stating that all things behave probabilistically). But in fact, just because each instant carries with it a specific set of probabilities (known to physics kids as “wave functions”), that doesn't mean that the outcomes of those probabilities are indeterminate. See, if instant “A” is the setup with probability wave function Q, and instant “B” is the observed outcome where the wave function of Q collapses and we see which of the probable results is realized, both instants “A” and “B” can exist at the same time without negating the probability function in “A.” Even from a traditional quantum-mechanical perspective, as long as we don't look at “B” before we look at “A,” nothing weird happens to Q. But what I'm saying is that there is no “before.” “A” and “B” simply are. This is a reality of predetermined probabilistic outcomes.
You can think of it like an animated movie. When we watch the movie “Aladdin” on a VCR, we perceive that we're seeing a sequence of events, a flow of images and words that is in constant motion, heading toward a conclusion. But the reality of “Aladdin” is that there is a big pile of animation cels sitting in a box over at Disney that includes every instant, from “start” to “finish,” that we perceive as we watch the movie. If we could go over to Disney's vault, we could open that box and pull out cels from any arbitrary point in the movie, without having to look at them in a sequence as we do when it's played on tape. That's because all of the cels, all the instants, exist already. We could even pick up the whole box and see them all at the very same time.
Clearly, there is some mechanism by which we perceive that change occurs, but whatever that is, it's like the VCR in my example above. It's some kind of intermediary between the objective reality (a big box of instants that are already configured and exist concurrently) and our perception (that there is a flow or series of changes which we experience in a sequence, suggesting time).
Boing! Sounds crazy, right? But in fact, it's strongly suggested by Einstein's ideas of relativity and especially by the Minkowski spacetime “loaf.” This is what first turned me on the fact that time is static. See, one can simplistically think about spacetime as a “loaf,” like a bread loaf. Each instant in “time,” each realized configuration of particles, is a slice of this loaf. Now, relativity says that an observer moving really fast relative to another observer can go look at a faraway slice and then 'return' to their original location. For the fast-moving observer, only X amount of time will have passed, but for the slow-moving observer, much more time – like maybe x^2 or thousands of years more, if the other guy was travelling at close to the speed of light – will have elapsed. Effectively, the fast-moving observer has travelled into the “future.” This shows that one's position in the spacetime loaf is arbitrary and that configurations existing in the “future” for some observers exist in the “present” for others. The clear implication is that time is static – the whole loaf exists at once, and any point within it can be accessed according to the speed of the observer. So, if we could somehow see the loaf from the outside (we're inside it now), we would see that it is whole and exists in its entirety right now. All the slices are already there, we just can't see them all at once when we're inside it.
[Note : under our current understanding of physics, the fast-travelling observer example applies only to movement into the 'future.' Nobody has been able to figure out how to access the “past,” even though math symmetry principles suggest that movement should be symmetrically possible in either direction. This problem is called the “arrow of time,” and is the major physics and philosophy issue that dogs the hypothesis that reality is completely static. Another problem is that it appears nothing can exceed the speed of light. If time does not exist, neither does speed.]
The English physicist Julian Barbour, whose book “The End of Time” is the most popular serious treatment of this subject from a scientific perspective, had the useful idea of conceptualizing each cel or 'instant' of reality as a “configuration space” – a mathematical concept that can be thought of as representing the positions of each particle in the universe at that 'instant.' This makes it a lot easier for me to think about – all these cels or instants are just lists of particle co-ordinates that exist concurrently on a big stack of cosmic flash cards.
So there it is. Time does not exist. Can you dig it?
End note : Young enlightened me that Buddhism does not really hold that time is cyclical. That concept is what they call 'expedient means' to help students grasp the true nature of reality – nirvana – which, says Young, is timeless, unlike the rock band of the same name. (39,013)
Many sites are landscaped with rock and pavement. This creates what is known as the "heat island problem" -- that is, the rocks and paved elements absorb and hold solar heat, raising the temperature of the site, permitting little vegetation or evaporation. Another common landscape approach, xeriscaping, attempts to simulate a natural desert environment by using no deep-rooted plants, but only things like cactus and succulents. The problem with this approach is that it leads to erosion and a soil that is heavily leached and will not retain water; this is not conducive to growing food.
In contrast, permaculture-style landscaping that features a variety of rooted plants and water-managing features raises the water table and, though it requires more water input, may actually conserve water in the long run by cooling the site and creating more in-site moisture recycling (whereas xeriscaping creates a hotter, more arid environment by retaining little water). Plants cool a site, while rocks heat it up. So what's a person with rock on their site to do?
Don't remove the rock -- it's expensive and laborious to do so, and recall that 'using what's on hand' is a guiding permaculture principle. So, instead of removing the rock, redistribute it. Rock's heat-retaining characteristic is directly proportional to its surface area. Therefore, we want to arrange the rock in a way that minimizes the surface area and yet is useful.
The best way to do this is to use the rock on hand to create narrow, deep pathways around your planting areas such that the planting area will be sunken relative to to paths. This will help conserve your precious water -- the water will drain over and through the rock paths and be collected in the sunken beds. Sunken-bed agriculture has long been favored in desert Africa and other arid climates as a key water-management strategy. Repeat : sunken beds and raised paths are the best approach for growing food, especially in hot and arid climates. Raised beds will fry the roots of your crops when the sun beats on them.
Sidebar : the horror of Bermuda grass
Bermuda grass is a 'marginal' or 'fringe' plant -- it exists when land has begun to fail due to erosion and desiccation. It's an especially hardy species that is highly invasive, and is very difficult to control in an edibles-growing setup.
The 'conventional' approach to removing Bermuda grass is to use an herbicide, but smart people know that herbicides are poison and don't use them near their food crops. Instead, use the 'brute force' method : obtain a sod-cutter, "bobcat," or strong shovel (for the Calvinist) and remove the offending grass before planting. Attempt to scrape it off the top of your site. Due to its omnipresence and hardiness, it will continually stage comebacks, but this step will give you a head-start on it. If you're serious about keeping this hardy grass out of your planting beds, don't include removed Bermuda in your regular compost, as some of its seeds may survive the 140-degree temperature and come back to haunt your garden.
One tactic that has proved successful for keeping Bermuda grass at bay is the introduction of red clover, another 'marginal' species that is likewise invasive but has two advantages over Bermuda grass : 1) it attracts bees, which are vital for pollination of your crops, and 2) it smells better than Bermuda grass.
The 'Pre-Landscaped' problem
Many sites will already be landscaped with trees, shrubs, etc, before you arrive. This can be seen as an obstacle to your planting design, but the smart urban agronomist will incorporate existing green features into their plan. Rather than remove existing trees, remember that bees like trees and you need bees. Therefore, introduce gourds, grapes, and other hardy vines to grow up on and around the pre-existing features (including rocks of all sizes). This will create a photosynthesizing, water-producing heat barrier that requires little watering (because these thrive in dry conditions) is excellent at counteracting the effects of the urban "heat island."
Achieving microbial balance
Healthy plants are abetted by numerous symbiotic worms, insects, microbes and fungi living in the soil. Each type of helper organism lives in a certain "trophic level" -- that is, stratum -- of the soil. Microorganisms often move through fungal networks around plant roots to enhance crops' nutrient uptake. Helpful organisms come in several classes : - Bacteria - Fungi - Nematodes - Protozoa - Arthropods - Annileds - Birds and animals are also in symbiosis wit your crop, but we'll treat them elsewhere in this series.
Soil trophic levels are an important consideration in urban agriculture. It's important to work with the organisms in each level, rather than against them, to maximize yield and minimize the amount of work you have to do. The first rule of working with these trophic-level-dwellers is : 'don't upend, displace, and massacre them with a rototiller.'
To dig or not to dig?
Tilling displaces the organisms in each tropic level, disturbing them and causing them to die quickly. A few inches means a lot to microbes and tiny animals. The "no-till revolution" currently under way in urban agriculture allows the trophic levels to remain healthy and undisturbed by specifying that rather than digging and tilling. it's better to layer mulch and compost on top of existing levels to allow the natural action of symbiotic-critter level adjustment as these new mulch and compost layers are watered in and self-percolate.
The "traditional" method of bed preparation, "double-digging," is wherein soil is dug up from one end of the bed and moved to another end. This is disastrous for microbe and fungal colonies and, even worse, is very hard work.
The new method : "Lasagna gardening"
I wish that "Lasagna gardening" was a way to grow lasagnas, but alas, it's only a slang term for building up soil in a layered fashion and avoiding disturbance of the native soil's trophic levels. Here's how to do it :
1) Spray / soak the site liberally with compost tea or "effective microorganisms" to bacterially control pre-existing environmental toxiins 2)Put a layer of black-and-white (only) newspaper over the selected bed site. This is nontoxic and will discourage pre-existing weeds from erupting in your planting beds. (note : stay at least 3 inches away from trees ) 3) Layer equal thicknesses of mulch and compost on top of each other. Ideally, you want an ultimate planting depth that is equal to your root size; this is roughly the same as the height of the above-ground plant greens (hence the old saying "as above, as below"). This may seem daunting and silly, but after the first couple of seasons, the new material will be integrated with the original soil and the landscape will even out. 4) add new layers of mulch and compost after each harvest to continue enriching the site soil.
Kelp meal is a phosphorous-containing soil amendment that many have found to be beneficial to this process. However, those who live in landlocked areas may object to adding sea-based additives to their soil.
Coming soon : Part III
This information principally drawn from the lecture series "Designing a Vegetable Garden" as presented by Heather Welch in late 2008 courtesy of the Phoenix Permaculture Guild. (85,599)
Water management is key for success, especially in desert environments. One of the determining factors in water management is the overall slope of your site space. Observe where water flows and pools when it rains. The areas where water pools are ideal planting locations for root crops (carrots, beets, etc).
You can influence the flow of water by constructing "swales" along the elevation contour lines. "Swales" are geographical features that are constructed by digging along contour lines and mounding the removed soil on the lower-elevation side of the ditch, creating a depression and berm that guides water runoff. This method can be effective for minimizing water loss and guiding flow to where you need it - your planting beds with water-hungry crops.
Rainwater and 'greywater' harvesting are good ways to maximize the self-reliance of your urban agriculture project. Rainwater harvesting requires a well-designed gutter / catchment system and collection barrel. When deciding how to apply your harvested rainwater, be aware that if your house has asphalt / tar / composition shingles, the roof runoff will contain toxic residues from the shingles. Therefore, you don't want water that runs of an asphalt roof to be used on your vegetables; it's probably OK to use on trees and anything you don't eat (though there's some argument about whether you should use it on trees that bear edibles -- see note on toxin concentrations in fruit). Water that runs off tile, tin, concrete, ceramic, wood shingle, or other non-volatile roofing materials is kosher for all plant uses.
'Greywater' is relatively uncontaminated water that's been used once in your home - for example, to wash clothing or the dishes. By using biodegradeable, nontoxic detergents, the urban agronomist can collect that water -- which is quite a lot - and re-use it directly on trees or and non-edible plants. You'll need to plan how best to get the greywater from its source (e.g., the clotheswasher) to the destination (e.g, your orange tree). For example, a hose can be run directly from the clothes washer to the orchard or collection barrel; catchments and barrels can be used to store greywater before use. Note that since greywater can harbor bacteria, it should not be stored for more than 24 hours before use (unless cured by UV rays). For collecting greywater from the kitchen and bathroom sinks, the simplest way is to simply collect the water in bowls and decant it into a bucket to take outside; you can also do minor plumbing alterations to make it easier. There are numerous books and commercially-available systems on the market with more detail about how to install greywater systems in the home; be sure to consult local laws governing greywater before starting on the project.
Some municipalities offer irrigation as a city service. This provides very cheap and plentiful water, sufficient to grow even the thirstiest crops. The downside to this convenience is that irrigation always brings with it numerous seeds (such as Bermuda grass) and insects. Take care to be on the lookout for invasive species when using municipal irrigation. Avoid placing plants directly in front of the irrigation channel to avoid damage from water movement.
When using forced city water -- that is, tap water -- there are several concerns to bear in mind. The most crucial is that tap water is chlorinated and fluoridated; left untreated, it'll kill vital garden bacteria and fungal microrhizome 'residents.' If you have no bacteria, you'll have no worms, and no worms spells doom for vegetable gardens. Without symbiotic fungi, your plant roots won't be able to take in vital nutrients from the soil. Therefore, if you use tap water, install a filter system that's designed to eliminate chlorine and fluoride contamination. If a commercial filtration system is beyond reach, these harmful elements will also evaporate if you leave the water in an open barrel or bucket for 24 hours or more. It's been hypothesized that toxins in water are concentrated in plant tissue to a factor of ten, so prenez garde!
Sun and shade
As important as water management is the practice of solar planning. It's essential to plan your plantings with a mind to the patterns of the sun on your site and the needs / tolerances of your crops. Plants can be sunburned just like animals can.
Pay special attention to summer sun patterns. In arid climates especially, avoid planting vegetables in places where they'll receive direct solar radiation (cactus and desert succulents are OK in direct summer sun). This is one of the reasons why it's desirable to create a multi-tiered "canopy" with trees or trellised sun-tolerant vines providing shade for edibles below. Creating such a canopy system improves not only the soil and plant health, but also site air quality.
You'll note that the sun pattern in your space will vary considerably between summer (the sun will be directly overhead) and winter (sun will come in at more of an angle).
The best spots for planting on your site are those that are in partial shade in the winter sun pattern. Determine your sun patterns by carefully observing the shade patterns as they shift throughout a day. You can approximate the patterns of whatever season it isn't by drawing a bird's-eye-view map of the site, putting objects on it to represent shading structures (for example, a tissue box for the house and saltshakers for trees) and moving a bright flashlight over the model, imitating the sun's sweep, to see how the shade patterns move.
The ideal type of shade is "filtered shade" -- that is, shade that doesn't completely obscure the sun. For this, trees with smaller leaves such as mesquite, palo verde, and palo brea are ideal. These types of trees are also "nitrogen-fixing" plants -- that is, they take elemental nitrogen from the atmosphere and convert it into nitrogen compounds in soil that can be used by other nearby plants. Note : if you have a dead tree on the site, don't root it out - introduce a trellising vine like grapes to grow up it and provide shade. Using what you've got on hand -- like pre-existing structures -- is a key permaculture principle.
Understanding microclimates
Microclimates are local variations within a regional climate. For example, the Phoenix area has an overall climate that is hot and arid. However, variations in elevation and airflow patterns make the North East section of the valley significantly cooler and more verdant than the southwest section. The urban center is hotter than the surrounding areas due to to high concentration of heat-retaining structures and pavement. Likewise, there are microclimates within individual sites. It's a good idea to walk around the site in he middle of the night, making notes as differences in temperature, humidity, and wind movement are perceived. These microclimates will influence the planting layout.
Soil : analysis and composition :
Soil is composed of sand, silt, clay, organic matter, air, and water. It's what plants grow in, and is ultimately the source of all food. It's important to think about and analyze the soil on any planting site.
Typical Arizona soil is heavy with caliche -- a mixture of clay with mica and montmorillonite particles. The clay and mica particles lay flat against each other, making for poor permeability and drainage. It's hard to break up and very challenging to grow in. The type of soil that's ideal for planting is called "loam" -- an equal balance of all particle types and sizes with plenty of organic matter. This soil type is very "friable" -- that is, easy to plant in -- and is nutritious for nearly all plant types. Any soil type can be made to take on the characteristics of loam with the addition of time and natural soil amendments -- compost and mulch. Never use gypsum to break up clay deposits, as it will make soil terribly alkaline.
The site soil should be tested for pH before the project is started. A pH between 6.8 and 7.5 is considered to be neutral and good for most plants; desert soils tend to be alkaline (~8.5 pH); some soils are acidic with a lower pH. The correct way to manage soil pH that's too high or too low is to add plenty of compost, which will help neutralize the overall pH. Any nursery can test the site soil for pH.
If you believe that your site may be heavily contaminated with industrial toxins, motor oil, pesticides, or other hideous stuff, many major universities (such as U of A) will test your soil for poisons (for a significant fee). If you find that your soil is contaminated, but still want to plant, you can attempt to "bioremediate" it using liberal amounts of compost tea and / or so-called "Effective Microorganisms."
Note : never use raw manure or fecal material directly on your soil, no matter what you hear-- it will introduce pathogens and can potentially cause 'nitrogen burn' in crops. Compost all manure before applying to your soil.
How to determine your soil's composition : This is easy. Just fill a lidded jar halfway with the soil to be tested (it's recommended to test multiple parts of your site), fill rest of jar with water, shake it up well, and leave it to settle for 48 hours. The sample will then separate into layers and reveal its composition. The bottom layer is sand, the middle layer is silt, the next and lightest-colored layer is clay, and floating on top is organic matter. The composition of your soil samples will tell you what amendments should be added to optimize the soil's friability.
If clay is present in excess, coarse compost or mulch can be added to help make the soil more permeable over time. Clay does have redeeming characteristics -- for example, it's rich in plant nutrients, as is silt. If your soil is sandy, that's not necessarily a bad thing -- sand is vital for good drainage. Just add plenty of finished compost to amplify the nutrient value. If your soil is weak in organic material, add mulch and compost (the more, the better).
Getting started
A good plan for starting your urban agronomy adventure is to pick the best-shaded, well-watered spot on the site and create a 4 by 8 foot bed (planting your favorite native food crops using the companion-planting strategy -- more on that later). This functional size is manageable for the neophyte and is modular, so that your planting beds can be easily added together or rearranged. Once you have success in the 4x8 bed, create more. A key permaculture principle to apply here is "start small, get big."
Basic tools
The basic tools you'll want to embark on your planting experiment are : - Gloves - Shovel - Rake - Hoe - Wheelbarrow - Rebar stakes are useful for many things including water and air management - Compost and compost sifter - Velcro for plant ties
The bulk of this information was drawn from the lecture series "Designing a Vegetable Garden" as presented by Heather Welch, November 2008. Part 2 to follow (83,717)
I was looking over the stats for this site, and apparently it gives me a list of things people searched for to get here. I see here that a surprising number of people turn to us for information about why their compost is heating up, and what that has to do with thermodynamics.
That's really weird, but I happen to know the answer (is that weird too? I don't know). I'm supposed to be studying hundreds of pages of pathology notes at the moment, but I think I can procrastinate just a little bit longer to answer this incredibly important question.
Every chemical reaction can either require energy or give off energy. For instance, making carbon dioxide and water into sugar and oxygen requires energy (when plants do this, they use sunlight and it's called "photosynthesis"). Most other organisms besides plants turn the oxygen and sugar created by plants back into carbon dioxide and water, which actually gives off energy.
Each process is long and convoluted, but the laws of thermodynamics state, among other things, that the conversion of energy from one form to another is never 100%. While none of the energy is ever destroyed, some of the energy gets misdirected into heat. This is why a perpetual motion machine--a machine that moves constantly without stopping or requiring any outside energy for all eternity--is impossible. Some of the energy of the machine will be shunted constantly into undesirable heat, which the thermodynamic laws' authors call "entropy."
So how does this relate back to compost? All living things which eat sugar are going to convert that sugar into energy used to power other chemical reactions. That energy is packed into a little molecule-sized battery known as ATP. That ATP plugs into other molecular machines (enzymes), dumps its energy into them, and then ejects. Some of the energy that goes into forming ATP and in the process of dumping ATP's stored energy into those machines turns into particles which fly out in all directions (infa-red photons AKA "heat"). Some warmth is necessary to keep atoms moving around so life can keep on going, but much of the heat created by the organisms is unnecessary, and simply due to the impossibility of a 100% exchange of energy from one form to another.
The bacteria and/or fungii are unlocking the energy stored in the sugar and other molecules of the compost and using it to build other molecules. Some of the energy is needlessly bled off, creating heat. They don't really want to be doing this, but they can't help it, because it's actually impossible due to avoid, which is what the second law of thermodynamics states.
If you have a problem with your compost heating up, you're kind of SOL. These little bugs have don't like it either, but if millions of years of evolution can't solve the problem, you definitely can't.
Update: Hank has pointed out that the heat created by bacteria in compost actually ends up killing them! This is apparently a necessary part of the composting process. Shows what little I know about gardening.
As a side note, I can actually think of one living thing that creates heat for the sake of creating heat. Infants are born with small patches of special fat cells on their neck and other places. These fat patches are different from other fat cells, and when looking at them you can actually see that they are brown (fat is usually yellow or beige, this is Brown Fat). Like most cells, Brown Fat cells have mitochondria, which are little chemical converting doohickeys that float around in the cell and convert whatever usable crap floats into them. The mitochondria in Brown Fat cells, however, are defective by design. They basically take the complex chemical conversion system and "short it out." Chemical "A" turns to B, B and B is thrown away when normally it would be used to make chemical C. The lack of chemical C tells the mitochondria to turn more A into B, which creates a lot of extraneous heat. In the same way you can short out a battery by connecting the positive and negative poles together, these fat cells short out this chemical system and create heat (also like shorting a battery). It's thought that these fat cells help keep the newborn's brain warm when it is most vulnerable, which is the first few days after birth. By the end of those few days, all the fat in the brown fat cells is burned and they die.
Well I hope this explains all that for you strange Googlers. (48,243)
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