The Movement that Mass Media, in Alliance with the Corporate World, Spoon Fed Consumers

Some of you readers may become extremely irritated with my new post today.  And while I feel this green, organic subject is important, I also feel as though a sliver, a tiny sliver, needs to be cracked.  I did intend to research this topic throughly, but alas, a Google search did not yield many results (much like my vegetables at this point).
The green, organic movement has picked up speed in Chicago.  The movement is becoming a whirlwind, exciting the most skeptical individuals, seducing them to minimize their carbon foot print by offering them completely green, organic fruits, vegetables, cars, paper, clothing, yarn, and, well, nearly everything else that you could think.  Probably even rubber!  Or styrofoam! Before I knew it, a surplus of Chicagoans were totting around their little reusable tote bags with a smug look on their face when they saw me walk out of the supermarket with four plastic bags, and sometimes, it's hard to believe, double plastic for the safe sturdiness that my gallon of milk won't fall on the ground because, simply, milk is cold to carry for eight blocks!


I mean, at least I walk everywhere and use transportation, right?


Try telling the above comment to some of those green bikers in Chicago.  They'll just stare at you with a slacked jaw, shaking their heads, ranting about how the transit system in Chicago is still using up too much oil. But, hey there biker, where do you think that crude asphalt comes from which allows you to bike smoothly in the city?  I mean, at least you're not paying $2.25 per ride to use up some oil.


At least, then, buying some organic yarns or clothes shouldn't be too expensive, right?  I mean, I do want to help out the Earth and Nature, hell, also hard working individuals in my own country and not some innocent child half way across the world who'll lose a finger or two in those sewing machines.  Go ahead, try walking into an organic clothing store in Chicago and show me a decent price.  Chances are, the lowest will be around $245.


So, why would I want to pay over two hundred dollars for a pair of organic cotton jeans?  Because of the green guilt that has slowly seeped into my brain like some sort of mutant ooze.  It just doesn't die.  If one were to go looking for the host, one would have to travel on a far and complex journey, which, for the record, would probably be full of grosser, meaner monsters than those ever found in Tolkin's Middle Earth, or Where the Wild Things Are.  Finally stumbling upon the host, one would look up in horror just to find that it's been the Media all along.


Stephen T. Asma writes: "Pointing out these parallels is not meant to diminish the environmental cause. We should indeed do the things in our power, and within reason, to sustain the planet. But we have a tendency to become neurotic and overly anxious, especially when we are regularly told, via green marketing ploys, that each one of us is responsible for the survival of the planet. That's a heavy guilt trip."


Right on, Mr. Asma!  You write the way it should be written: with green marketing ploys written all over this green guilt that's been shoved down my throat all day.  This guilt doesn't just happen with commercials, but with people, too!  I've known one too many Chicagoans who have smugly boasted about this "great little shop that's all organic," or "my new hat is awesome because it's all organic cotton and it was only $70, I mean, what a steal!"  What a steal, indeed, my fellow friend.  What a steal.


The main problem I have with green guilt is this: when I walk into "organic" shops, whether they be huge like Whole Foods, or tiny and intimate like Green Grocer, the over priced items leap out at me first.  Then, when the shock subsides, the recognition that fruit is being shipped from across the world in the middle of winter slowly illuminates me and suddenly, a revelation: how are they being so green and organic by shipping food half way across the world in winter?


Then again, perhaps I am a part of the problem as well for intermingling the words organic and green.  Surely a organic certified food product, which must be 95% organic, does not necessarily mean that it is green, which would be defined as "earth friendly" and using less "carbon foot prints."  Because, well, organic fruit that is flown in to a wintry Whole Foods from Brazil must have used quite a lot of fuel.


Readers, all of you are consumers, will be consumers, and have been consumers.  I just urge us all to be smart shoppers with a critical eye everywhere.  Let's do our research first (like I should have for this post) before leaping in to some guilt that the mass media in alliance with the corporate world has spoon fed us.  Surely we can save the Earth and Nature, but in ways that we feel comfortable with and that are within our means as consumers.  Let's preach about saving the environment and going green within first, because, after all, we have to watch out for ourselves first before we can change anything.  

Euphorbia Milii Budding Two Buds

Today I sat on the deck reading Jude the Obscure, engulfed in that wayward confusingly changing time period from Victorian to Modern and listening to birds sweetly singing on telephone wires, more alive than I could ever be sitting in 90 degrees.


So I thought I'd take pictures of Crown of Thorns.

Crown of Thorns is one of the only plants that blooms year-round if you gave them the proper care.  The flowers, while beautiful, eventually whither up and fall. Legend has it that the crown from this plant were used in the crucifixion of Jesus. 

The "Restoration" of Chicago's Nature

This post, which may, or may not turn out to be a rant, was inspired by Growing in Chicago


The city of Chicago has a great habit of "restoring" wetlands when the land wasn't wet, when wild lands, and what few trees, in pre-industrial days were the natural skyscrapers.  Take this "restoration" for example.  Blogger Beth Botts recounts a harrowing tale of how the Army Corps of Engineers tried to "restore" Washington Park to its natural "wetland."     

Picture courtesy of Wikipedia

Fredrick Law Olmsted, the parks' creator, first saw a flat field void of trees.  His initial plans included adding some trees surrounded by a meadow, even inviting sheep to graze, which, if the grass is natural prairie Switchgrass, ends up being more beneficial to not only the sheep, but also the grass.  Grazing sheep help spread the seeds of Switchgrass, and without this natural animal grazing, the prairie needs to undergo a controlled fire.  I'm sure that in the late 19th century, Chicagoans were frightened by even the thought of fire.


Paul Cornell, who was most likely a money hungry, corporate leech, strongly "encouraged" Olmsted to include some sporting areas, because somehow it's better to sport next to a meadow.  Oh, I'm sure Cornell had every intention of either making this park only accessable to the elite or by charging a fee, but we won't mention or talk of this.  (It's not even like any of this has any claim, I'm just assuming that anyone who wants to turn a park into a sporting area has to be in it for the money).  


Here's an old picture of Washington Park, once again, by way of Wikipedia.

Thus, this creation mythology of how Washington Park is a natural wetland is born.  I'm all for parks being restored, but how about bringing in some trained professionals and actually restoring the land to its original habitat?  I mean, Switchgrass isn't that ugly and boring to look at.  Panicum virgatum is being used as a renewable energy and all those great native animals feed on the plant.  It's not just Switchgrass either, but the other hundreds of different varieties of tall-grass prairie.  If we would only look at the natural grasses that once flourished on our land, we would see the beauty (and deer!).  

Less than 0.01% of tall-grass prairie remains in the Midwest, and hey, that's where the tall-grass prairies grow.  Along with demise of the tall-grass prairie were buffalo, rabbits, deer, and elk.  Insects and bees left, too.  Let's also not mention how many awesome, cute little birds must have been affected as well.  It's sad, and a shame that we, as humble, humane people who constantly boast about being "green," treat our land, our nature, our provider.  

No wonder some people say we're doomed.  Perhaps we're not though.  No, surely we're not.  If only we would all take heed from this warning, this seemingly insignificant warning, and pay attention to nature, even if only for a mere five minutes.  We can learn something about the past, the land, about ourselves.  

A Polka Plant that Once Was: Hypoestes phyllostachya

Unfortunately, plants come and go, as is the cycle of nature, right?  Sometimes, though, it's not the cold, harsh weather that decides to eliminate a plant, nor the overshadowing of a bigger plant that towers over a young seedling.  I will admit that I had, and still have problems cutting back on plants.


Some plants that look so pristine sitting in their nice little pot burst into monstrous, leggy beings.  They start to grow all lopsided, awkwardly growing too far up with little bushiness. 


Poor Polka Dot.  He once, I swear, was healthy.

I was enthralled by his bright varieties of crimson red splashed throughout the pale pink and blood red leaves.  He was a perfect addition to the sunny window ledge.  I even bought him a special pot.


Polka grew fast and strong the few short months he was with me.  

A monster of a plant who couldn't grow just right.  

Boston Fern Who Sat on the Fence for a While and Finally Made a Decision

I think, sometimes, that plants must have a challenging time becoming accustomed to a new setting, in a new house, with new rules and regulations.  Perhaps they even face humility looking so desolate in the face of new care takers with his four shabby leaves. Poor plants from Jewel.

All winter he was looking bad.  His home was over on the "other ledge." When he grew, he dropped his older leaves.  


So I let Jewels be.  I let him rest.  I let him compile his energy.  

What we can all become if we were just given the opportunity and time.  Of course, I haven't made any grave mistakes with him as of yet, but, who knows - maybe that will come in the future.

I Interrupt This Message for a Weather Update

Spring has arrived!


To a Chicagoan, these three words are top most important to our vocabulary, if not the most important three words that any Chicagoan will utter in wonder at the first warm day.  

Never mind that Mountain Dew, just concentrate on how beautiful that ground looks!  

To live in the Midwest means to grow a thick layer of skin and be perpetually hibernating.  We've just gone through one of the most wretched winters in four years.  For about a week, snow just kept falling, thousands of flakes after thousands more of flakes, and they piled into one giant sea of snow.  Again, those three and a half feet of snow froze over, trapping each Chicagoan to his or her home for a week.  It's all cabin fever.  It's torture!

Though faced with a wall of snow, he wanders on.  Image: chicagonow.com

One day, though, Chicago thaws out.  Snow finally melts and Chicago just becomes this gray, rainy mess for weeks on end.  It's like riding down the river in Heart of Darkness; perpetually surrounded by this never ending fog.  


This post was dedicated to the crazy Midwest weather because secretly, Chicagoans love bragging about the "haphazard" weather.

A Conning Conifer

Norfolk Pine, a tropical conifer (if that makes sense) helping us all out. This little guy doesn't look like much, but he helps me out all the time.

The Wrath of Dragon Tree

Dragon Tree has an almost parallel story to that of Schefflera: a neglected plant that had almost given up until he burst into the beautiful plant that he is today.

He was Schefflera's partner in crime.  Together they sat on that table with little light, revolting by letting their bodies grow limp.  

There he stands, like a true fascist leader: all tall and proud, but was weak.  

Continually, I look at Dragon Tree.  I'm enthralled at how a guy who went from looking so sad, looks so beautiful now.

Pothos

As I've learned (and then forget and re-learn), this is a pothos and not a philodendron.

Slanted Schefflera

Ah, Schefflera.

Introduction

Plants, plants, and plants. I think I'll be taking pictures of plants to track their progress in looks and so on.