Michael Green

Journalist, producer and oral historian

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The outdoor shower

In Blog on September 30, 2010

AFTER a day’s dirty work in the garden, or painting ceiling boards, it’s always nice to have a shower to wash the humidity away. It is, however, especially enjoyable to shower at Mel and Ant’s place. They have an outdoor shower (see the photos below).

The water comes from a spring on their property, and Ant has rigged up a greywater system from the shower that feeds a banana circle.

The greywater runs down to a circular trench and mound (or swale), around which the bananas are planted. Bananas need lots of nutrients. In the middle of the circle you can put compost scraps and cut vegetation. Ant explained to me that to productively manage the circle, you should have banana plants in threes – a grandma, a ma and a baby. Only the grandma of produces bananas. Eventually she’ll be cut and composted in the circle and replaced by the ma, and so on: the circle of life (banana edition).

The shower looks like this:

The shower

The view from the shower looks like this (gosh):

The view from the shower

Recycled interiors

In Greener Homes on September 26, 2010

Pre-loved interiors change the story of stuff.

THE way you fit out and decorate your home is a matter of style, but also of substance – each purchase contributes to the size of your footprint.

October is the Salvos Stores’ Buy Nothing New Month. The campaign encourages people to buy only their necessities new, and for the rest, to scavenge, swap, or seek out second-hand goods.

Author Clive Hamilton says the campaign is about “spending our time and money more thoughtfully”.

Throughout the month, some Salvos Stores will be showing The Story of Stuff, a short animation on the life cycle impact of goods, from the extraction of raw materials to disposal.

“We usually think of our greenhouse gas emissions being associated with direct energy use, like heating our houses and driving our cars,” Mr Hamilton says. “But a lot of greenhouse gases are embodied in the goods we buy, because so much energy is used in making them.”

He says white goods and furnishings often have relatively high embodied energy. Overall, the indirect emissions of households (through the products and food we buy) are larger than the direct emissions (caused by our energy use).

We tend to spend what we earn, either now or later. “This is why high-income households always buy more stuff, generate more greenhouse gas emissions and produce more waste,” he says.

But that consumption is a matter of choice. “Changing what we consume can reduce our emissions in the same way as driving less or turning the thermostat down,” he says.

Artist and interior designer Christo Gillard argues that buying pre-loved not only reduces materials consumption and saves money, but also adds pizazz.

“Recycled things are fantastic because they hold a lot of character that other stuff doesn’t have. They’ve got instant personality,” he says. “As far as interiors and houses are concerned, recycling isn’t a new thing. Antique stores are emporiums of recycled products.”

There are many ways to avoid buying new. You can ‘up-cycle’: fix, re-furbish or re-upholster existing things to give them new life.

“Textiles generally don’t outlast the framework of furnishings,” Mr Gillard says. “You can re-glue and re-upholster an amazing, rickety old chair. Spend a day’s work and it’ll last another 50 years.” When re-upholstering, choose the fabrics for durability and enquire about eco-friendly adhesives and foams.

The same goes for lampshades, because there are few craftspeople making high-quality ones. “If you’re lucky enough to find one in an opshop and re-cover it, you’ll have something intensely unique.”

You can also seek out pre-used materials. Mr Gillard has drawn drapes from old cinemas and lit upon French louvers in council collection piles. He especially recommends reclaimed carpets, floorboards and tiles.

“Recycled tiles are marvellous. One time I found a load of tiles for $150 and gave them to a client. I saw someone else who found similar tiles new and paid $8000 for them,” he says.

You can save on everything, from taps and fittings to kitchenware, and even hifi equipment such as record players. “The internet is a bottomless place to find stuff,” Mr Gillard says.

“Visit places like Camberwell market, trash-and-treasure stores and opshops. Garage sales are the greatest things in the world. There’s so much available from houses, shops and buildings that are being demolished. It’s all about how you mix and match it.”

Looking up

In Blog on September 25, 2010

WHEN I wake in the morning I lift my head just a little and look out the huge window of the A-frame loft, and into the rainforest. I lie there a while before I get up.

I’m wwoofing again, this time in Upper Main Arm, near Mullumbimby in northern NSW. I’m staying with Mel and Ant, and their toddler Maddy. They have veggies and chickens and a hundred fruit trees – exotic trees to me, like mango, papaya, tamarillo, guava and white sapote.

These last two weeks, there’s been something going on with ceilings. Maybe it’s because I’m travelling north and I’ve always associated north with up.

At Homeland, near Bellingen, I helped a few members of the community as they installed a new ceiling in their common house. They use the house for events and activities. For a while they ran weekly open-mic nights, but the roof sprung a leak many months ago and the building has been out of commission ever since.

A few young families moved onto Homeland recently, bringing fresh energy to rejuvenate the property’s facilities, and the long-time members’ spirits. That’s why we were fixing the ceiling.

Members can own their houses, but no one can own the land. About 30 people live there now. They tread foot-tracks from their homes to the common laundry and shower block and clotheslines, and meet each other along the way. Kids explore – there’s no traffic to watch out for. A morning can vanish on Homeland, among all the conversations and cups of tea.

Here, a few hours further north at Upper Main Arm, it’s been raining a lot. And while the raindrops tap on the tin roof of the outdoor living area, we’ve been building a ceiling below, so Mel and Ant can install insulation.

Whenever it stops raining, I fight Morning Glory. It’s a weed vine with a pretty purple flower and a conquistadorial spirit. 

The land is fecund, damn fecund. Plants grow like nobody’s business – both the wanted and the unwanted. Periodically, Ant takes his machete and hacks a tract of jungle away from the fence line of their house zone.

The landscape is lush like a movie soundtrack. Mel and Ant’s outdoor chairs are stained with damp and the new shed already looks two generations old.

There is so much water in these parts, compared to dry Victoria (well, Victoria was dry before I left). I’ve got a thing for big rivers, so I’ve been happy here. When I visited the US a few years ago my main ambition was to sit by the Mississippi and read Huck Finn.

From Woolgoolga to Byron Bay I got a ride from a biological farmer called Ian. He’d lost a marriage and a farm, and until recently, he’d been living out of his car in Sydney. He still had rheumy eyes, but now he had big plans. He told them to me as we drove past Grafton and along the Clarence River. The river was astonishingly wide and full, and so close to the highway. We passed over the bridge where the water made for the coast, but soon we came alongside another, the Richmond River. Unless it’s flooding, you sure don’t see that kind of water down south.

Mel and Ant's house

Resilient cities

In Greener Homes on September 19, 2010

Governments and councils are planning for fossil fuel–free cities.

OVER the last two decades, ‘sustainability’ lodged itself in our lexicon. Now, there’s a new concept to digest: ‘resilience’.

Peter Newman, professor of sustainability at Curtin University, says the two concepts come from “the same tribe”, but resilience shines a spotlight on how we “deal with the resource constraints that confront us”.

In his latest book, Resilient Cities: Responding to Peak Oil and Climate Change, he explores those constraints, and many of the innovative responses emerging from cities around the world.

Peak oil refers to the point in time when oil production is at its highest, and beyond which, begins to decline. Most predictions suggest that the global peak is coming soon, or has already passed.

Professor Newman says the recent oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico demonstrates the greater difficulties companies now face drilling for oil. “Nobody disagrees that oil is getting harder and harder to find, and we’ve got to do more and more risky things to get it.”

He argues that this fact, along with the need to reduce carbon emissions, means that our cities will need to halve their oil consumption by mid-century.

“Both climate change and peak oil force us to think about different kinds of cities that are able to cope with less fossil fuels,” he says. “We’ve built our civilisation around the cheapness and easy availability of fossil fuels. That era is ending.”

A CSIRO report, Fuel for Thought, released in 2008, estimated that petrol could cost as much as $8 per litre by 2018.

Elliot Fishman, from the Institute for Sensible Transport, modelled the impact of CSIRO’s estimate and found that people living on the city fringe are the most vulnerable.

“It would mean that someone in Cardinia, in Melbourne’s outer east, would spend about 15 per cent of their total income on petrol if they maintained their current travel patterns,” he says.

It’s a troubling finding, especially in light of the state government’s recent expansion of the urban growth boundary. “We’re still developing outer suburban land into cheap housing where people have no options other than the car,” Mr Fishman says. “Where you live has a major impact on your transport costs.”

But buyers and renters are now catching on. “Real estate agents say that more people are asking about public transport availability,” he says.

To reduce car dependence, he recommends householders opt to live close to work and public transport, if possible. You can also cut fuel consumption by working from home one or two days a week, and riding a bike or walking for short trips.

Governments are also beginning to take the issue seriously, especially at the local level. Maribyrnong and Darebin Councils both released peak oil adaptation plans last year. The Queensland Government has produced a series of reports into peak oil since 2005.

Professor Newman argues that once there’s a critical mass, our cities can be transformed rapidly.

He points at the Vauban neighbourhood in the German city of Freiburg, which exhibits many markers of resilience: efficient buildings, walk-ability, good public transport, local renewable energy and a strong sense of place.

“In Vauban, you can see the future and it’s better,” he says. “It is carbon-free, car-free, more local and far more environmentally friendly. It’s much more community oriented and a lot more fun for the kids growing up there.”

Garlic picking

In Blog on September 18, 2010

LAST Monday I picked garlic all day. For a couple of hours in the afternoon the smell was so pungent my eyes went cloudy.

I was staying on Homeland, an intentional community in Thora, about half an hour from Bellingen. Brian, one of the residents, has grown a big curly afro, a thick mo‘ and two healthy patches of organic garlic.

We began at eight o’clock. The task was simple: pull the bulbs out of the ground without breaking the stalks, and group them in two rough clumps – big and small.

As the hours went on I narrowed my preferred picking stances to two: sitting cross-legged and scooting forward, and standing and bending down. Both caused me considerable discomfort, but in different ways, so switching over was brief, blessed respite.

Every now and then I shifted my gaze from the bulbs at my feet to the lush field beyond, then to the orange grove and to the purple-blue hills in the distance. Suddenly the deep lungfuls of air I inhaled seemed to smell sweet again. By knock-off time at five-thirty my legs were shaking with fatigue, and I felt overjoyed to be sore and finished, not just sore. 

A few days later I got talking with an Englishman in a pub. He had a miserable face, the kind you’d cast as a depression-era tax collector: sallow cheeks, a long, pointy nose, and arched eyebrows. He was a heater salesman before he packed it in for a round the world trip. He had blown 40,000 pounds (AUD$67,000) in just over a year, mainly on booze. He’d comfortably drink 15 pints in a night, he said.

I told him I’d been garlic picking for a day and that it was damn hard work. And he said, “Nah, can’t be hard, you just reach up and take them off the tree.”

Garlic patch

The garlic patch, from a safe distance.

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