It's Earth Day and I'm So Mad!

Having thrown an apple core into some pondside flora instead of the trash can, I felt good for completing my Earth Day celebration early this year. But even as I saw an interested buck poking his head through the brush at the periphery of my country estate, I couldn’t help but feeling like I could do more. Naturally, I left the buzzing cicadas and Sand Hill cranes and got on the Internet.

As the people of Earth ostensibly prepare to celebrate and honor our home planet (it is not yet the 22nd at the time of writing), a lot of them are really angry. It seems we can all agree that we are generally not “anti-Earth,” which is a great start. That’s essentially where humanity’s agreement on how to manage the planet ends.

I try to give real controversy a wide berth, at least in the context of writing a blog for Foods For Living. But reflecting on Earth Day, with the help of the Internet, I was struck by something: a day of commitment to stewardship of the planet is the centerpiece in a very loud argument our culture is having with itself. What’s more, the zebra mussels of misinformation and propaganda are clogging the flow of information to a disconcerting degree.  

In fact, calling the environmental conversation a “conversation” at all is significantly underselling its ferocity. While “war” is too strong a word, I could forgive someone for using it. Just look at pictures from the field: titanic machines, detonated mountainsides, protesters behind police barricades, chemical deployments, and a ceaseless propaganda machine on all sides. In the middle of this maelstrom is the “average person,” earnestly recycling, planting an Earth Day tree, and wondering how the greenhouse effect became a red and blue issue.

A Very Brief History of Humanity’s Relationship to the Planet:

For (far more than) 99% of human history, the Earth was our absolute and implacable master. Its capriciousness buried cities, dictated where we may live, and concealed the vast majority of its wonders completely. Then, in the late 1700s, the scale shifted so violently that it escaped humanity’s conception. 

By Earth Day 2014, roughly half the people of Earth favored treating the planet like a giant eggshell, and the other half seemed to think the old girl was built like a tank. Still another half was barely eking out a living from the land, and accordingly cared little for this sort of First World dialogue. A final half seemed intent on wrecking the thing, as if that might prove something about its workmanship. (I know that’s four halves. If fuzzy math isn’t your thing, you may want to pick a different topic, because foggy figuring is prominent when talking about the Earth.) In the interest of keeping it light while nodding to this all this chatter, I selected some compost nuggets regarding Earth, humans, and the combination, to share.

THE GREAT PACIFIC GARBAGE PATCH

THE MYTH: There is a giant (“Texas-sized” or double that, depending on your source) island of accumulated trash in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. This popular myth has been “well-documented.”

FACT: There is a gigantic amount of accumulated trash in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, albeit trash that has not formed any sort of solid mass.

Obviously, dumping trash into the ocean is a terrible idea. Also, it’s easy to imagine a Texas-sized area of waste. (I would make a Texas joke here—such as “see: Texas”—but part of my family is from Texas.) Unfortunately, most of the trash in the Pacific gyre has been pulverized into small bits, where it is introduced into the food chain via plankton. The Great Pacific Garbage Patch, or GPGP, (or “jeepy jeepy”), is less on the unsightly end of environmental disaster and more on the long-term-poisoning-of-the-planet-end. “But not a literal island!” cry those who would call me alarmist. No, not a literal island. If you can get past his smirking, self-congratulatory delivery, this video by (convicted fraudster) Brian Dunning explains the issue succinctly. (A video purporting an actual island has triple the views on YouTube.)

Don’t worry. According to a 2008 article by The Journal of Science, at least 4% is the ocean is still pristine. Because Antarctica is too cold and too far away to be a good dump.

EVERYONE COMPLAINS ABOUT THE WEATHER, BUT ONLY THE ULTRA-RICH ARE DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT:

This is somewhat old news, but it has missed a lot of my friends’ (Doppler) radar, so I’m mentioning it here: Bill Gates owns a patent for a hurricane-stopping device. As you can imagine, this is incredibly complex, and probably won’t work, and would require billions of dollars. As much as I love and respect Gates’s work as a philanthropist, one should note that Gates has not proposed funding this venture himself, as many reported. Although the idea of a mad super-genius creating a fleet of weather-controlling ships is awesome. Here’s a comprehensive article from Scientific American. http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/can-tropical-cyclones-be-stopped/

LET A GUY WHO MAKES ELECTRIC CARS TELL YOU THE REAL TRUTH ABOUT ELECTRIC CARS

I’m a natural skeptic about information from manufacturers, but Richard Canny, CEO of electric car company THINK, makes some salient points in his defense of the (much more efficient) electric car. Try not to think of how fast your cell phone battery depletes as you’re reading about his Electric Vehicle utopia. http://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/think-goes-myth-busting-for-earth-day--top-10-myths-about-electric-vehiclesbusted-91716524.html

THERE ARE MANY POINTLESS EDITORIALS LIKE IT, BUT THIS ONE IS MINE

This is a link to an article that isn’t special, or interesting. But it is an exceedingly common specimen around Earth Day. I’m showcasing this article as an object lesson in disingenuous persuasive writing about the environment.

This “editorial,” by computer science professor Dr. Barry Fagin, is the one example from which you may infer the many like it. It is one variety of the Earth Day Column From An Expert. The column is a meandering indictment of a few soft, unrelated targets. It contains only the vague entreaty, “Let’s abandon Earth Day myths.” The specific myths this doctor in computer science cites are few. He cautions us against mythologizing Native Peoples as perfect stewards of the land. He pokes some fun at an inaugural Earth Day advertisement by pointing out that an actor in said commercial is actually Italian-American, not Native American. (I bet he hated Scarface.) He cites a fabricated speech, quoted by Al Gore, and falsely attributed to Chief Seattle as an example of… I’m not sure what.

Oh, and he concedes that “humankind definitely impacts the planet, but the scope and nature of the policies pushed by the save-the-planet crowd are way out of proportion to what we know and what is likely to happen.” This is both the central issue of Earth Day and glibly dismissed without anything as inconvenient as “examples,” “evidence,” or specifics regarding what a sensible and moderate course of action might look like to the good doctor.

On a totally unrelated note, Dr. Fagin is a member of the Independence Institute, a Colorado-based Libertarian think tank. The think tank has donated at least $500,000 to another think tank, the Heartland Institute. You may recognize the Heartland Institute from their tireless media campaign against the recognition of global warming, or perhaps their collaboration with Philip Morris in the 1990s, wherein they helped distribute some Big Tobacco literature questioning the health risks of secondhand smoke. 

To be clear: I’m not taking sides in this insane dialogue. But I didn’t get this article from some blogger who lives with his parents. The Gazette is a proud Pulitzer Prize winner, and Dr. Fagin is highly respected in his field. (A field which has nothing to do with the subject of his conspicuously anti-scientific article.) I’m just hoping to demonstrate that “following the money,” a technique I learned on HBO’s hit crime drama, The Wire, is very telling when considering the perspective of an expert. Not that any college freshman shouldn’t be able to see through the guile of such hucksters. Fagin does prove one thing: by needlessly making Earth Day an argument, then using some common logical fallacies (straw man, non sequitur), you can indeed fill a column with text. 

SOMETHING SO REASONABLE IT DEFIES A SNARKY HEADING

Since I took a couple shots at Brian Dunning, professional skeptic, earlier, I'd like to help redeem him by linking my all-time favorite layman's summary regarding global warming. 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agfoRVfr6no

Phew. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling positively saturated with controversy. I'm also humbled by people like Bill Gates who may actually be able to control the weather (to some small extent) in our lifetime. But this Earth Day, I'm going to turn my back to the explosive conflict about how to care for our planet and celebrate ED2014 the best way I know how: I'm going to go outside. Maybe I'll even throw a second apple into the weeds.

Tomahawk Throwing for Health

Tomahawk throwing is taking the health and fitness world by storm, as I’m sure you've noticed. As spring wiggles its way out of winter’s grip, health-conscious folk across the Midwest are hauling their arsenals out of the shed. College students are sharpening their tactical hawks, stay-at-home moms are polishing their fast hawks, and professors are sanding the handles of their replica trade hawks. Indoor ranges are getting quiet as people take to parks and back yards to collectively celebrate the sailing of steel through the spring air. Some will join local throwing leagues, some will flip burgers on the grill between throws.

Some will throw alone, simply enjoying the clarity and peace of that reassuring tempo: the slow kiss of metal on wood. These few know that a well-thrown hawk is a manifestation of the will; it seems to sprout from the target, and presage the successes of the day to come. The axe meeting the target is the echo of achievement, in reverse. It is a warm, willful sound, wholly of the earth, both immediate and eternal.

All right, so throwing tomahawks isn't a new fitness craze. It has yet to develop the martial-fitness hipness of Tae Bo or cardio kickboxing. The above is an indulgence, a montage of an Americana made richer through embracing my favorite spring discipline. For years, I’ve been reaping the boundless physical and mental benefits of throwing tomahawks (and other sharp things). In a typically magnanimous move, I’m going explain how and why you should do something truly unconventional for the sake of fun and health.

Here are 6 benefits of tomahawk throwing, in brief:

• It’s good for your muscles. Skepticism is natural, but tomahawk throwing is a great workout. It’s obviously not intended to be comprehensive. But as an entertaining supplement, you can’t beat it. Throwing properly utilizes the whole body, so stretching first is essential. Throwing involves much of your core. It asks a lot of your triceps. Tomahawks on the ground can be retrieved with lunges. If you force yourself through the initial awkwardness of off-hand throwing, and lunge-retrieve with both legs, you’ll feel it the next day, and perhaps the next.
• It is “real” exercise if done vigorously. Imagine pitching a baseball or serving a tennis ball for a couple of hours. While your heart rate (probably) won’t approach that of running or calisthenics, a good rhythm of throwing and tomahawk retrieval is demanding. The uninitiated begin casually and quickly transition to sweating and layer removal.
• It is meditative and calming. Any marksman can tell you about the timeless bubble that hangs around the moment of release. Having an objective, no matter how transitory, is a great way to turn down head chatter and practice focus. Objective-based training/exercise improves attention, lowers stress, and builds confidence. Please just imagine I’m citing studies for those claims. Come on, you know it’s true.
• It forges positive personal traits. Whether you stick with the thrower’s simplest goal—get the tomahawk to stick in the target—or challenge yourself immensely—throw 8 different weapons from 30 feet away—there’s always a new frontier of personal challenge to be had with throwing. Feeling yourself ramp up a tangible skill (especially such an unusual one) is satisfying. Becoming a pendulum between the unattempted and the achieved sharpens the will and hardens one against adversity.
• It’s fun, social, and inclusive. It’s like horseshoes, "Baggo," lawn darts, and many other vestiges of summer Americana, except it makes you feel like a Viking or a Cree warrior or Daniel Day Lewis, instead of someone named Doug with a mortgage and a Subaru. People of most athletic abilities can participate, and throwing is just novel enough to promote an atmosphere of “Aw, heck, I’ll give it a shot.”
• It’s “primal,” which is hip right now. Your devoted “paleo” friends will be very impressed when you use actual paleolithic technology to unwind.

If you would like to get started, simply find a tree you don't value, or construct a target. Some simple and charming instruction on making a target can be found in this video.

There is an wide array of options for throwing. These can be purchased on the internet, or in sporting goods stores.

Here are a few options from my own collection:

The traditional/trade hawk.

This is the Ed Sullivan of tomahawks. This weapon was commonly traded with and among Native Americans during the seventeenth century. While Native American tribes used stone or even antler heads, European settlers quickly began producing metal-headed versions for trade with indigenous people. Its two-part construction makes the inevitable handle replacement quick and easy. Great for the traditionalist or mountain man, but comes with a steeper learning curve than modern equivalents. 

                                                        








The tactical tomahawk. 
Similar in weight to the traditional model, with notable modern innovations. A spike opposite the blade will affords the thrower another approach for especially resilient targets. A forged steel head is harder and more durable than the iron head of the traditional model. A fiberglass-reinforced nylon handle will stand up to years of throwing. The model pictured is the SOG Tactical Tomahawk.




The Fast Hawk (pictured with tactical hawk).
"Fast Hawk" is a brand name designation from SOG, the manufacturer, for what is essentially a miniature version of the above tactical model. The smaller size is  provides the creative thrower with a wide palette of new options. It's a great option for those lacking upper body strength. It's also so, so precious and cute.

The "Fast Hawk" next to its larger brother.

The Double-headed tactical tomahawk.
Besides having that ineffable quality of being "more Viking-like," double-headed tomahawks double your chance of a solid stick by multiplying the effective striking surface twofold. If the math is giving you a headache, look at the picture—two blades! The added steel does translate to added weight, so plan accordingly. This particular style is useful for extended excursions away from civilization: if you chip or ruin one blade, you've got another at hand.

The double bit or "Michigan" axe
We Michiganians are fortunate to have such a beautiful tool bearing our name. Make no mistake—this is an axe for felling trees and chopping wood, foreshortened for the purpose of throwing. With a 3.5 pound head, it requires care, strength, and dexterity to throw. The thunderous wallop of a successful throw with this axe provides unparalleled satisfaction. Not for the timid or careless. Caution: plan to replace your target after an afternoon with this powerhouse, unless your target is a tree. In that case, keep your ears perked for creaking timber. 

The huge throwing knife.
There's a point in a knife's life when it is no longer merely a knife. This is a time when it bears so little resemblance to its kitchen drawer brethren that it transcends its origins, and joins the elite ranks of real throwing implements. The pictured knife is such a specimen. The Cold Steel brand Sure Balance Thrower is a knife with a weight and size approaching a tomahawk. Its massive size and solid metal construction gives it incredible penetrating power. Caveats: this weapon is much more likely to ricochet significantly than a tomahawk. The tip remains quite sharp, and should be treated with care and respect. 


 

Throwing is a great reason to get outside, tone your muscles, improve your mind, have fun, and learn a skill that will almost certainly never come in handy. With a small initial cost and a gentle learning curve, throwing welcomes the brave and bored alike with open arms. 

Powder to the People: Diatomaceous Earth

While other food (health/culture/safety/fitness) blogs guide you through the showroom, I like to take you into the garage. Sure, people love photos of marble counter tops and canning tips and photos of children with cookies. Those things have a place, and that place is far, far from here. Today I want to talk about using tiny sharp bones as a sort of mechanical poison.

You can refer to diatomaceous earth as “D.E.,” if you’d like to sound especially hip and well-versed in the siliceous sedimentary rock scene. I’d argue that correctly pronouncing the product in all its polysyllabic Greek glory is a more certain path to impressing your friends, but the choice is yours. I’m sure we can agree that impressing your friends (and sales people at health food stores) is of capital import.

So we’ve established some options on how to ask for diatomaceous earth. Perhaps we should proceed to why you may want to ask for it. Or even, "what is it?"

“Diatomaceous” is an adjective meaning “from diatoms.” In simple terms, diatoms are algae with a crunch. These tiny phytoplankton number some 100,000 estimated species, but they all crunch the same. Their cell walls, known as frustules, are made of porous silica. The diatoms’ fossilized remains form a fine white powder en masse, and thus you have “diatomaceous earth.”

While D.E. has a great many uses industrially and domestically, it crosses the radar of the average person as a pest control agent. When an arthropod goes all Scarface on a big powdery pile of D.E., its exoskeleton begins losing its lipid coating, and dehydration ensues. Dehydration spells death for most living things, and common pests are no exception. Sprinkling diatomaceous earth along pest hots spots in your home is a safe way to eradicate the insect menace without endangering your pets or children—provided the D.E. is “food grade.” (Food grade diatomaceous earth is available at Foods For Living, of course.)

Obviously, the term “food grade” implies ingestibility, but what does it mean in the case of D.E.? Simply that it is free of pesticides and additives.

It should be noted that many people eat diatomaceous earth as a dietary supplement. Like most supplements, a quick Google search will unearth many hyperbolic claims about D.E.’s wondrous benefits. That isn’t to say that ingesting D.E. doesn’t have benefits. When any product begins to gain traction in the health industry, one can be sure that a league of opportunists and wild claims will be close behind. If you’re interested in using D.E. as a supplement, it’s beneficial to understand the nature of silica, how D.E. kills pests, and the different forms of D.E., along with their associated risks and benefits. A full exploration of the claims, studies, and evidence surrounding D.E. ingestion exceeds the scope of this post, but information on the subject is plentiful. Understanding even a little science behind the action of a product like D.E. can help you filter out the benefits from the hype.

Speaking of filters, there’s a lot to like about diatomaceous earth besides its potential for insect genocide. D.E. is used as a filtration agent for everything from swimming pools to wine to drinking water. It is used to clean up toxic spills. It’s in some cat litter. It’s an anticaking agent used in bulk feed storage. It is added as a “marker” to food in livestock nutrition experiments to measure how much of a given nutrient has actually been digested. Less experiment-concerned farmers add it to feed so as to keep horse and cow excrement free of flies. It was a stabilization ingredient in “Nobel’s Blasting Powder,” better known as “dynamite.”

If you haven’t gotten the drift yet, I’m going to spell it out: you come into contact with D.E. every day, whether you like it or not. Think you escaped somehow? It’s in many face scrubs and toothpastes, as well. Nice try.

So this stuff is great, and we use it for everything. Is there a downside? Well, try not to breathe in the “crystalline” form. The common “amorphous” form is essentially harmless, but there is usually some degree of the crystalline form present in D.E. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration regulates the crystalline content of D.E. in consumer products (currently 1%). The safety hazard posed by breathing commercial D.E. dust is truly negligible, but you may want to think twice before pursuing a career in mining the stuff. While you may get to travel to places as England, the Sahara, Czech Republic, and Santa Barbara County, prolonged exposure in mining conditions can result in silicosis. (“Silicosis” is the official name, but all the cool kids are calling it “potter’s rot” or “grinder’s asthma” these days.)  

Heating D.E. to high temperatures changes much more of it into the crystalline form, which poses a greater health hazard. This requires industrial processing, so don’t worry about leaving your earth on the windowsill. But this distinction is why you should make sure you always get food grade D.E., which will not be crystalline, for home use.

You're not the only one excited about spring. There are armies of equally elated bugs who are elated. Get some D.E. and sprinkle away. Worried about sustainability? New diatoms are born every day, and it only takes about 65 million years for their fossils to be viable for killing bed bugs. (Just kidding. While D.E. is not exactly a “renewable resource” in the most literal sense, there are deposits of the stuff that are miles thick in some places. We’re not going to run out any time soon.)

If you have further questions/concerns/want to buy some, your local Foods For Living associate will be happy to help. Refer to the pronunciation aid if need be, deliver your request with conviction, and prepare for impressed double takes in your direction.

The International Food Name Conspiracy: The April 1st Post

I’m looking to inject this blog with more nationalism and xenophobia in order to court controversy and consequently increase web traffic. I would consider a “diplomatic incident” the pinnacle of achievement in this regard. So, without further adieu delay, here are some examples of other countries’ attempts at misleading American citizens into seeming stupid/eating something gross. (My conception of geopolitical machinations approximates rival frat houses having a prank war. If you happen to work in international politics and have a better understanding, or know anything about it, please send me an email.)

German chocolate cake: In an act of sabotage lacking the subtlety of our craftier foes, the Kaiser planted a deep cover operative on our soil in the 1850s. His name was Sam German. (Such a pseudonym confirms that espionage was not the Kaiser’s strong suit.) Using his own baking chocolate recipe, German created a unique chocolate cake with more layers than a spy thriller. His employer, Baker’s Chocolate Company, named a new baking chocolate in his honor: Baker’s German’s Sweet Chocolate. Germany’s gambit was successful: 162 years later, and most people ascribe this delicious confection—an American creation— to our erstwhile ally. Well played, Germany, well played.

Refried Beans: In an effort to deprive us of a (clearly beneficial) second frying, the conniving chefs of Mexico called their bean concoction frijoles refritos, knowing, I’m certain, that we would mistranslate the name. Where I come from (AMERICA), when you attach “re” to something, that means you’re fixin’ to do it again. Apparently, they do things a little different down south: in Mexican Spanish, “re” means “well,” or “very.” Thus, “well-fried beans.” The rub here is that these beans are often baked, not fried. Well played, Mexico, old chap. Or should I say “replayed?”  

Sweetbreads: Picture a fluffy cinnamon-infused dough, glazed with cream cheese icing and sprinkled with candied almonds. Now take that picture and set it on fire. “Sweetbreads” have less to do with sweets or bread, and more to do with thymus glands and calf pancreas. England is our oldest enemy (temporary alliance notwithstanding), and it’s fitting that England is a frequent culprit when it comes to naming foods in a purposefully misleading manner. This one goes deep: some 12th-century rascal decided the word for “flesh” or “meat” should be brǣd, and so shall the unsuspecting expect scones and receive gullets for all time. England: 1. Guy hoping for biscotti and getting pancreas: 0.    

Oranges: Geolurēad doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. But before circa 1512, that’s the monstrosity you would have uttered in the English-speaking world when referring to the color nexus between yellow and red. Presumably embarrassed, the English language quickly sought something else to call the color. It found a solution in a tangerine-pomelo hybrid that the French were already calling orenge. The name was a mutation of the Arabic naranj, whose descendants can be seen in such words as the Spanish naranja. So the fruit name came before the color name. That this is a vast international conspiracy designed to humiliate the United States is proved by this simple fact: “oranges" grown in exclusively tropical weather are green, not orange. Green! Cold weather causes the chlorophyll to retreat, not unlike the sensation one has when jumping into a freezing pond.

Baby carrots: The name, “baby carrots,” is not misleading unto itself; baby carrots are, indeed, the infantile offspring of adult carrots, brought each spring to the carrot patch by an intrepid stork. What’s deceiving is the myth that baby carrots are simply large carrots, cut to less-intimidating specifications. The product resulting from that process is called a “baby-cut carrot.” “Baby carrots” are immature carrots, bred specifically for their diminutive size and sweeter taste. “Baby-cut carrots” seek to ride the tiny orange coattails of their legitimate cousins. I wish I could pin this on a foreign government. Alas, this is the work of good ole American marketing.

Canadian Bacon: The mendacity of Canadians generally is well-known, but never is their innate deviousness more apparent than when ordering Canadian bacon in Canada. What you and I, and every other red-blooded patriot, call “Canadian bacon” is either A) ham, or B) “back bacon.” While ham needs no explanation, back bacon, if you didn’t know, is a slice of pig which includes both belly and loin. This is a leaner bacon than the fatty belly bacon America calls its own. In a blatant display of Canadian culinary insanity, Canadians’ actual signature bacon—peameal bacon—is a cut of pork loin rolled in… peameal? No. Cornmeal. Typical.

Colonial goose: Not, in fact, goose, but rather lamb—coated in breadcrumbs and bacon. I suppose this is the sort of bait-and-switch we might expect from Australia, considering its somewhat… ahem… unsavory colonial origins.

Bear Claw:  This may sound like something one would wear around the neck to intimidate a village one is pillaging. Sadly not the case. An invader with a bear claw around his neck would likely be laughed back into his longboat, as the bear claw of modern times is an almond-flavored pastry. The shape, I suppose, resembles the the mighty paw of a dangerous apex predator, in the right light. But I still feel swindled. If you're struggling to find the scapegoat here, kindly recall that bear claws are a subspecies of Danish. 

Gunpowder Tea: This tea’s misleading name led to a very anticlimactic Fourth of July for this patriot. Do not be misled: this tea from the Guangdong and neighboring provinces of China will not explode, no matter what. It is so named for the small pellets into which the tea leaves are rolled, resembling coarse black powder. Or is it? The Mandarin phrase for “freshly brewed” is gāng pào de (剛泡的). Say this quickly in English and the origin of the tea’s name becomes less certain. Another conspiracy.

Tune in next April 1st, when I shall unmask further clandestine treachery in the world of food!

Acres and Pains: Farming Against Blight in Lansing

Unsavory characters.

You probably love black and white photographs of urban decay. You, like me, probably like to stroll down shadowy streets and across forgotten lots in the rain, just trying to figure out what it all means. Do this in Lansing, however, and your ruminations risk being derailed by increasingly surreal scenery: deserted expanses peppered with... rain catchments? Sketchy neighborhoods, full of loitering... chickens? Large, empty white houses... harnessing the power of the sun to grow beans!? 

Having done a few years of residency south of Kalamazoo street, I can attest that urban blight does lose its charm eventually. It takes a toll on the senses, and has a life-eroding quality for anyone living in proximity to it. When part of a city begins to decay, it's is a cyclical problem: rough neighborhoods get rougher, nonresidents avoid them altogether, and they become a haven for criminal activity. 

The Ingham County Land Bank is one of many organizations striving to reverse that tragic momentum every day. Under the auspices of keeping a chronicle on cutting edge and local food culture, I sat down with the Ingham County Land Bank's Garden Program Coordinator and composter child for urban renewal, John Krohn, to learn more about his efforts.(And to see if there's any way I can one day realize my dream of building a labyrinth on city land.)  

G: What's the Land Bank?

J: The Ingham County Land Bank is a division of the Ingham County Treasurer’s office. The Ingham County Treasurer is the person who is responsible for collecting property taxes, and when someone is behind on their property taxes— I think it’s 3 years—their property gets foreclosed on, and repossessed. That can include any property in Ingham County, but most properties are in Lansing, because that’s the area that’s been hit hardest by foreclosure. It’s been beaten to death so many times I hesitate to even bring it up, but the whole housing collapse/crash/bubble a few years ago, that really jeopardized and disenfranchised a lot of people. Because all of a sudden people couldn’t afford to pay their mortgages anymore. Their house wasn’t worth anything. They’re paying a huge mortgage and property taxes on a house they can’t sell. You can see we have a map here. Some our hardest hit neighborhoods, such as Baker-Donora, which is a notoriously rough neighborhood, you can see how many properties we own here.

G: So these green patches are Land Bank property?

J: Yes. And red ones are ones that were ours and we’ve sold. And actually a whole new batch of green parcels will be coming into the system because foreclosure time is in April, I think. The treasurer’s office forecloses on properties and then they basically give them to the Land Bank. Sometimes the City of Lansing is the one that forecloses on people for city taxes, and they can also, in many cases, give them to the land bank. The end goal for us is to get it all back into private ownership, so that it’s back on the tax rolls. More tax base for the city, and stabler neighborhoods, you know, is another big goal of ours. When you start having so many houses go down, when there are very few houses left, you start having this Detroit thing going on. Nobody wants to move in, it’s a cycle that just escalates. We try to stop that from happening by assessing what neighborhoods are vulnerable and targeting them for rehabilitation or building of new houses. We’ve gotten some federal grant money, as part of neighborhood stability programs. There’s been a few of them; they give us grant money to build new houses. Nice modest houses for low income people in these vulnerable neighborhoods.

When the vacant land comes to us, there are a few different ways it can be disposed of. It can be sold at auction as is, with or without a structure, and sometimes that happens. It could be held onto because we have specific plans for something. Sometimes we see a cluster of specific parcels that we have control of, an area like Old Town, where there are density goals. They’d like to have more people living up there, so there are more people in walking distance of the shops and stuff like that. So if we have a few parcels close together, that are on a corner for instance, we might say we’re not going to sell these off at auction. We’re not going to build a single family house on this. We’re going to wait until one or two more parcels open up and put an apartment building here. The housing side of it isn’t my purview, but I know a little bit about it.

Despite the signs, this building was locked.

So properties can be sold at auction, or they can be banked like I described. Some of them are immediately redeveloped using federal money. The vast majority of standing structures we get are demolished. So we’re left with a lot of vacant parcels. Some get rebuilt on, others remain vacant. Some of the houses are nice, and have historic features and still solid bones, so we rehabilitate some houses and put them back on the market. We partner with many private real estate agents, we have a bunch we work with, to market those houses to people. In some cases they are income-based, specifically targeting lower income people. The ones that aren’t go really quickly, because they’re really nice houses for really good prices. So when a property doesn’t get rehabbed, sold at auction, or doesn’t have a new house built on it, it’s just vacant land sitting in the city, that’s where I come in. I’m the Garden Program Coordinator.

One day this will all be yours.

My program assesses these lots for viability to be farmed, or gardened. Really, it’s not just farming and gardening. Options include anything related to agriculture or food systems. One fellow is a soil science researcher at MSU, and he wants a plot just to research natural methods of soil remediation. He's researching certain plants that uptake heavy metals or other contaminants. It’s called phytoremediation. So he’s using his parcel as a research project, but it all relates to healing the land and making it more usable again. The stuff that he does is closely related to food systems stuff, through soils sciences.

G: Does someone have to have a food-related or food systems-related goal in mind to get a contract with the land bank?

J: Beautification is also under our purview. 

G: These are contracts, correct? Not leases.

J: Exactly. They’re not leases. The contracts say that in exchange for stewardship of the land, which includes having to mow the lawn, and shovel the sidewalk in the winter, you can do what you will with it, as long as it’s for an approved use.

G: How much does it cost?

J: It’s dirt cheap. $25 to sign up, and you don’t have to pay property taxes on it. You can farm for profit if you want to.

G: So it’s literally just labor and $25. But there are limitations. Since you guys approve things case-specifically, you’re not going to let somebody build a Ferris wheel.

J: A Ferris wheel might be OK.

G: Bad example.

J: People can’t build permanent structures on the land.

G: Do you have other examples, or outstanding cases?

John's reveals his plot (of land).

J: One woman entered into a contract because there’s this beautiful large oak tree. She thinks it's one of the oldest oak trees in Lansing, and it’s in a corner parcel that’s right next door to her house. She just wanted to see this oak tree preserved. So she just entered into a contract for that purpose. So she’s just doing beautification. Saving a tree, maybe planting a few, putting in some flowers, maybe putting in a park bench or something like that, so people can sit under the tree and enjoy its shade. It’s like a pocket park that’s maintained by one private individual, instead of by the city. We had another one just recently over in the Moore’s Park neighborhood where an old store had gone down. It had been owned by this Polish family for generations and part of the family still lives in the neighborhood. They just wanted to see it look nice and kind of be a memorial to a family business that was there for years and years. So they got a contract for that. Just to landscape, put in some rose bushes, maybe a bench, and just make it a nice looking area. It’s kind of a gateway into their neighborhood, too, because it’s right on the outskirts.

G: How long do these contracts last?

J: We typically make them for one year, and if a person shows that they have been a good steward, we can do three years. Our biggest parcel we call Webster Farms. It’s fourteen contiguous acres. It’s mostly woodlot and swamp. Subdivisions all around it, they couldn’t build anything there, because the water table was just too close to the surface and it’s too swampy. That’s how that got saved. But we did clear about 2 acres of it and start a farm that our significant refugee population here in Lansing farms. There are almost 100 Bhutanese, Nepali, and Burmese families farming that.

G: For their own sustenance, or for profit?

Urbandale Farm

J: Some of them sell through their own channels in their own community. This is between Pleasant Grove road and Hughes road. It’s inspirational, because they’re all farming using their native methods, so it doesn’t look like the way that we garden. And they’re growing crops that are foreign to us. So it’s pretty interesting. That’s a partnership between the Land Bank and the South Lansing Community Development Association. We’ve got other community gardens that are partnerships between us and the garden project of the greater Lansing food bank. For instance, this one in Orchard Court, this is almost completely gardened by refugee families. So our partnership with different community agencies is very beneficial.

With these community gardens we have gardens for personal use, people giving things away to family. We’ve got people trying to make a go of being a commercial market farmer. We’ve got people who just want to beautify their neighborhood. You can’t park cars on the plots, when it’s related to the garden program.

G: So no game day parking, then.

J: Yeah, you can’t get a bunch of lots and offer parking for Lugnuts games. But anything that falls within either agriculture or naturalizing spaces aesthetically, or anything relevant to food systems, is appropriate.

G: You said you have plenty of available land?

J: Yes. Even the tiniest one of these green rectangles is a full city lot. The driveways have all been torn out, the basements filled in. So even the tiniest one is still sizable.

John is the garden program coordinator, but his coworkers at the land bank are trying to find creative uses and interested businesses for many vacant buildings across Lansing. His office is a space of generous half-cubicles whose residents trawl for grants, negotiate deals, and court entrepreneurs, for the sake bringing life and activity back to Lansing's neglected spaces.

J: We’ve thrown around all sorts of ideas for what you could do on a land bank parcel. You could have a sculpture park, you could put in a labyrinth. ]

G: Now you’re cooking with gas. I know you said that just for me.

J: Yeah, you could do anything that’s going to be cool, that’s going to be a community asset.
For every steward that the Land Bank contracts, that’s snow removal and mowing that they don’t have to pay for. So it’s in their best interest to court interested parties. Taking on a land bank contract requires labor, but it also contributes directly to the city budget. The less we have to spend on maintaining these lots, the more we can spend on restoring houses and building low income housing. So it’s really helpful.

A local farm. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lansing-Urban-Farm-Project/114311701955132

Though John stresses that such measures are very early in the planning stages, he’d love to see a path to ownership for agricultural stewards. He’s also enthusiastic about establishing an urban agricultural zone. This would provide assurance to prospective contract farmers that there would be no subdivision going up next door. This could also pave the way for relaxing other restrictions, such as the number of chickens one may have in their yard. (The cap is currently five chickens.)

J: If people could farm with 100 chickens on city land, they could begin supplying interested local businesses, places like the Soup Spoon. When I get my East Side Chicken,  it could literally come from the east side. 

For more information, you can contact John Krohn directly at:
jkrohn@ingham.org
or refer to the Ingham County Land Bank's website:
http://www.inghamlandbank.org/