 Solomon's Seal, 2020 Photo by ERSwett A simple please & thank you. A call for spring and gratitude when it finally arrives. That's how my week has been. A simple call...  The shade garden on a cloudy day. Solomon's Seal, Bleeding Heart, Forget-Me-Not & Sweet Woodruff Photo by ERSwett Please. And a response. Thank you. There's not a lot more a gal can say.  Leaves or Fronds? What does one call these elegant green shapes? Photo by ERSwett Still feeling overwhelmed by the reality of our 'new normal,' but finding solace outside, with camera, texture & color.  Bloodroot, Sweet Woodruff, Forget-Me-Nots and Hostas emerging Photo by ERSwett And as happens, when I frame leaves or flowers, stories emerge. Today blankets of Sweet Woodruff reveal the truth about perennials, how they sleep, creep, then leap.  Cool bird watches, ready for the violet creeping phlox to bloom. Photo by ERSwett Yesterday, the story was about people - - crowds at the annual Yard Sale where I purchased this dignified bird, my friend Larry, who gave me these violets, and Elmer, from whom we purchased these River Birch trees over a decade ago.  Larry's Violets & Elmer's River Birch Photo by ERSwett And then there's dandelions, showing up in random places, a pesky weed for some, but a cheerful harbinger of health for others. It's all about the narrative we choose.  Proud Dandelion, 2020 Photo by ERSwett The dandelion at the foot of a tree, shaded by daffodils feels different from the dandelion blowing in the wind on a grassy hillside at the landfill.  Landfill Landscape May 2020 Photo by ERSwett And the hawk soaring above that same landfill inspires a different kind of reverence than do robins digging in my yard.  Hawk at the Lebanon Landfill, May 2020 Photo by ERSwett I love how even when alone in the garden or on a hillside in an industrial part of town, I am with others, part of a narrative that transcends the weather on a single day or my state of mind in a given moment.  Daffodils & Largeflower Bellwort Photo by ERSwett Please. May I find hope in a time of trouble. Thank you for the gifts that emerge. Forget me not. The world is sweet, even though it can be hard to focus & things feel blurry when people & plants try to share space. It's possible, though. So much is possible.  Forget-Me-Not & Sweet Woodruff Photo by ERSwett
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 It seems absurd, really, that a gal has to take care of things at home even when there are so many cool things happening, at, say, her first solo show.  But autumn does come to an end, and snow does appear and the temperatures do start to fall, so one does have to take care of things.  It's funny, though, how the list evolves over time. Just as one thing is finally crossed off, another activity or two or three gets added on, like mulch on the garden and those perennials that keep coming back...  I love, though, how I save my favorite activity for last - - shredding leaves to use in the compost in the spring when things are wet and need a boost of dry carbon. It's a thing for me.  Calvin joins in the fun, begging me to throw him sticks while I methodically mow the leaves in the still, dry garage. Spread them out, consolidate, spread again. Back and forth I help break them down so they can more efficiently integrate with all that nitrogen in the melting, early spring compost.  It hit me, though, as the pile got smaller, that this is another one of those routines I do all the time that is, on the one hand, just another item on the endless list, but on the other hand, is an integral part of a bigger climate action narrative, a story in which I find joy in routines that feel good unto themselves but are also part of a larger creative vision.  Like how I can share photographs of a previous year's leaves on the wall of a gallery and by doing so inspire others to think differently about leaves, carbon and our material world.  Mixed Carbon, 2019 30" x 30" Photograph on Paper (5th on the left) Photo by ERSwett For me,
climate action and creativity converge to inspire joy and new ways of being - - all the time. Happy Summer! This was my view a few days ago while hanging the laundry. It takes my breath away every time I go onto our terrace.  The Laundry View. Photograph by ERSwett 2019 I was in a great mood because I had set the day aside to work on a major embroidery project I'm exploring this summer.  Today's Project. Photograph by ERSwett 2019 But life kept getting in the way. You know how it can be - managing the compost, changing toilet-paper rolls, drinking water to stay hydrated on a hot day, cleaning up after the dog made a mistake... and, of course, doing the laundry.
I think I was able to finish about half a leaf between each interruption. By the time I went out to hang the laundry, I was feeling really frustrated by how slow my progress was. I'd been feeling bad about other things too. Like the fact I hadn't written a blog post for more than a month and that I hadn't finished the next playbook in my series.  Re-imagining old clothes But while standing on the terrace and hearing the baby birds and seeing a monarch butterfly head toward the volunteer milkweed in the orchard we planted, I remembered that not long ago, none of this was here: no terrace, solar panels, shrubs or perennials, and no monarchs or baby birds learning to sing.  A Blank Canvas - Our Yard, 2004 I also remembered how exciting it was to see these peonies and iris bloom together after we had transplanted them that first year with the terrace garden - that was 8 years ago.  We're Here! Peonies & Iris, 2012 Some days I have to remind myself that over time, lots of little actions accumulate and become something larger than themselves. A single stone becomes a terrace. A single flower becomes a garden. A single stitch in a small leaf becomes a re-imagined dress.  Coming to Life. Photograph by ERSwett 2019 Sometimes I just have to consciously remember how things really work, which is why when I dumped the compost and took yet another photograph, I remembered the power of showing up and of big little things. 10 pounds of compost a week adds up to 500 pounds a year -- a ton over four years. That's a lot of food diverted from the landfill. It's also a lot of photographs celebrating its beauty.  Grocery List Photograph by ERSwett (At AVA this summer) So this week I'm celebrating Big Little Things. Like the fact that after creating thousands of Compost Compositions, I finally have two in a juried show this summer and I'll have a few dozen in a solo show this fall - - All at AVA Gallery in Lebanon, NH. Friends told me that if I kept showing up for my work and for myself, cool things would happen. They were right. They are.  Corn Husks & Red Onion Photograph By ERSwett (In solo show this fall) Who knew the simple climate action of composting would lead me to become a photographer? Who knew that photographing that compost could lead to learning about embroidery and the craft of remaking old clothes? Who knew that the act of remaking old things would inspire new ways of thinking and new ways of being?  Hemming the dress. Photograph by ERSwett How are you celebrating the Big Little Things in your day or your week? Remember: When you show up for yourself and those you love, cool things can happen. Messages for the Future @ AVA Gallery AVA's 2019 Summer Juried Exhibition July 12 - August 21  Monday Morning's Activities (not listed above):
Writing & mailing post cards to daughter and mother-in-law; Emptying the dehumidifier in my basement studio; Packing up some college supplies for a friend, who happens to be passing through, to take down to DC so that we won't have so much to manage in August when our son goes to college there; Managing a broken nail that I got while packing those supplies; Receiving a packet of pachysandra from a neighbor with whom I had just spoken during my morning walk - - She mentioned she had more pachysandra than she needed; I mentioned I could use some. I thought the plan was for me to go over and harvest it. What a gift! And it all happened between 9am and 1pm. Who knew trees could be so tricky? When looking for shade in a parking lot, I head for the trees. When seeking a place to hang a hammock, I look for trees. When wandering in the woods, I revel in the play of light through the leaves and branches. Trees, and the forests they inhabit, truly are the lungs of the earth. They absorb our poisons and release the oxygen we need to breath. Why then, given this reverence, would I advocate cutting them down in order to install solar panels?  To be clear, I love trees. I also love moving toward a 100% renewable future. If cutting trees allows me to reduce my personal and our collective dependence on toxic fuels, then it's something I am willing to consider, just as I am willing to consider altering mountain or ocean views in order to promote wind power (that's a different conversation). The fact is, I knew nothing about carbon sequestration when we cut dozens of trees to clear a view and to make room for more sun in 2004. It never occurred to me to do a cost-benefit analysis because I didn't know there was a choice. I loved trees from a distance, but hadn't really paid close attention to them.
Our goals were to create a soccer field for the kids, a vegetable garden, and a beautiful near and distant view. It's been almost 15 years and a lot has changed. We've planted a River Birch 'glen,' a bird-friendly hillside and a rain garden. We've installed solar panels and have a great lawn for all manner of sports. Each year, however, I become more and more curious about the trade-offs we made in order to create our own private Eden.
So here's what I've learned. On the most basic level, it's easy to plant new trees that serve multiple purposes but that won't block the sun. Fruit and nut trees, for example, absorb carbon and produce food. Flowering trees of all kinds provide nectar for pollinators and berries for birds. By cutting down all those evergreens all those years ago, we made room for a significantly more diverse landscape the provides food for us and a host of flying creatures.  When I did some research, I learned the following about the tree-solar trade-off. It takes 1.106 lbs of Co2 to produce 1 kwh of electricity so if you install a 5,000 kwh system, that would avoid 5,530 lbs of Co2 emissions each year.  No two trees are the same: A 30 year old white oak absorbs 60 lbs of carbon a year; A white pine absorbs 193 lbs of carbon a year; A fast growing red oak can absorb 240 lbs of carbon a year. In Hanover and much of New England, we have a lot of white pines. 5,530 lbs/193 lbs = 28.65 trees. If you cut less than 28 trees to maximize your solar options, don’t feel guilty in terms of carbon absorption and avoidance - - If you are cutting white pines.  I'm a photographer who loves trees and light. I'm also a gardener who loves backyard biodiversity and a world free from fossil fuel dependence. In my quest for a sustainable future for my family, I am constantly making trade-offs. We needed shade for our terrace and planted a tree whose maximum height is 30 feet, just below our rooftop panels. I had wanted an elegant oak, but needed to compromise as oaks get too large and would shade our rooftop panels. Who knew we would now have more than 15 varieties of trees on our property where before we just had white pines and a few oaks?  In July, we considered electric lawn care and the many alternatives to gas-powered machines, including reducing the actual size of your lawn. This month, we continue the lawn care theme, but address it from the point of view of the trees and solar power. Both absorb the light. Both generate energy from that light. At the moment, however, we need to maximize the rate at which we transition to renewables. If that transition necessitates cutting some trees, I am willing to do so, especially if that creates more light for more diverse plantings and clean energy. Sources:
Tree Facts: Arbor Environmental Alliance Tree Math: New England Clean Energy (Tree Math 2, Sept. 2015) Sierra Club: Hey! Mr. Green Should I Cut? (November 2016) |
Evelyn R. Swett
honors community, everyday transformation and joy. 
compost re-imagined
Let's ReFrame!
is a bi-weekly viewsletter that hopefully inspires joy & transformation. It will include links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and, best of all, inspirational action prompts for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love. Oh, and I promise I won't share your information (that would be so uncool) and I don't actually do promotions, but that text is required. Archives
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**Let's ReFrame is a weekly viewsletter about this and that.
It includes links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and when relevant, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.
It includes links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and when relevant, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.