Green

Pipeline in Alberta leaks 9.5M litres of industrial waste water #green

A pop-up recyclable library room

Hey, I’m not dead, I’m just crazy busy settling into Oregon plus I lost my laptop power cord which throws an additional wrench into things. (A new one is on its way, don’t worry.) Regular blogging will resume eventually. In the meantime, enjoy my favorite Walt Whitman Poem. Miracles by Walt Whitman Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water, Or stand under trees in the woods, Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon, Or animals feeding in the fields, Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright, Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring; These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place. To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, Every cubic inch of space is a miracle, Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same, Every foot of the interior swarms with the same. To me the sea is a continual miracle, The fishes that swim–the rocks–the motion of the waves–the ships with men in them, What stranger miracles are there? Tagged: poetry

There's a price for blindly following those in front of you. Take army ants for instance. These aggressive insects have a dangerous tendency to commit mass suicide just because they are following the leader.   This bizarre phenomenon — in which ants circle around and around until they all drop dead of exhaustion — is called an "ant mill." More colloquially, it's often referred to as an "ant death spiral." You can see it in action here:

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Although very few birds are currently about at Sabkhat Al Fasl there are plenty of terns. Some of them have bred at the site such as Little Terns, with 50+ adults and 10+ juveniles. Others have bred nearby with White-cheeked Terns using the Arabian Gulf offshore islands as their main breeding sites. They are late breeders and will only now be having very small chicks that will be unable to fly. In a month or so they flying juveniles will also be seen at Sabkhat but now is too early.Little TernLittle TernWhite-cheeked TernOther terns such as White-winged Terns are passing back though on migration? Or are very late spring migrants. Both Adults in full breeding plumage and non-breeding adults were present with five birds seen in total. Caspian Tern and Gull-billed Tern were also present in very small numbers, both of which breed in the local area, but where I am not too sure.White-winged Terns - adult summerWhite-winged Tern - adult summerWhite-winged Tern - adult summer

I’m coming back home. Ten months ago we packed up our things and left the city of Chicago behind. This past ten months has been a series of fits and starts, fits and starts. But we’ve finally landed. We are very much in suburbia, but we are still apartment dwelling. It will be a little while until we realize our dream of home ownership, and that’s okay. So I tried my hand at a new phase of blogging at Agrarian Revival, but I’m not quite there yet, so I’ll leave it be. Where I’m supposed to be is here, Apartment Farming. I fell into a common trap at Agrarian Revival – I tried to reinvent what I was doing and then I just stopped. It takes a lot of work to reinvent something. And I’ve spent so much time worrying about “content” and taking amazing photos that blogging became this really stressful concept in my mind, so I stopped doing it. If I wasn’t going to do it perfectly, then I wasn’t going to do it at all. As it turns out, I’m human. And I’ve been missing the point. I’ve got a good life – reliable job, nice apartment, enough money to make ends (mostly) meet, health insurance for the whole family and always, always enough food on the table. I’ve got an amazing husband and a wonderful son. But the stress has literally started to eat me alive. Again, I’ve been missing the point. I’ve set the bar so high for myself that there’s no way I can clear it. So I’m coming back to square with my life. I’m going to work my job and when I clock out I will be done. As soon as I step off the elevator, my head will be clear. I’m going to start doing the things I enjoy, even if they don’t turn out perfectly and I don’t photograph them so they look amazing for the blog. And I’m coming back to Apartment Farm – for me. I started this thing so long ago as a journal of sorts, to connect with others and share my little slice of the world. I’d like to start doing that again. But you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t have incredible pics on every post and mind-blowing, inventive never-before-seen projects for you to try. I’m going to go back to being me, and I humbly invite you along for the ride. Filed under: Musings

This furniture folds up like Origami

Coming soon: An Obama climate strategy #green

Official: Sunswift Eve is a solar car for everyone, maybe [w/video] #green