Evelyn R. Swett Photography
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Minding My Milkweed, Mugwort & Monkshood

9/30/2020

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Picture
Common Milkweed Pods, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Common
Milkweed is really
not so common. The pods,
like a bird's beak, or perhaps an
alligator's head, add texture
​to the early Fall
garden.
Picture
Bug Exploring Common Milkweed Seeds, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Who
knew that all
kinds of bugs, in addition
to the well-known Monarch Butterfly,
appreciate the seeds. Is this one searching for
food, finding material for a nest, or
just playing in the lacy
​fibers?
Picture
Swamp Milkweed Seeds, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Just
up the hill,
more pods open,
their silky seeds seductively
swaying, inviting me &
​my camera
to 
play.
Picture
Swamp Milkweed Setting Out, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
These
Swamp Milkweed,
planted for the first time this
year, reminded me of the Monkshood I
planted for the first time earlier
 this summer. Their deep
​purple flowers, shaped like the cowl of an
actual monk's hood, captivated
me, as they, too, danced in
​the late afternoon
​light.

Picture
Dancing Monkshood, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
You
can imagine
my surprise when
I learned that every part of
the Monkshood plant, also known as
Wolfsbane, is highly toxic - - & I had planted
it by our terrace, right next to where
we sit! Of course I quickly
moved it to a more
​remote spot.
Picture
Mugwort Blooms, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It seems
I mistook Monkshood
for Mugwort, a totally different plant,
but one with an equally odd name beginning ​with
"M." Mugwort, which I had thought was a
weed, is actually a well-known
medicinal!
Picture
Mugwort Leaves, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
These
plants got me
thinking. I make so many
assumptions about plants & people.
Milkweed is quirky, but valuable for insects
and fiber artists; Mugwort might be considered a weed,
but it's capable of calming nerves; And Monkshood,
named for people who serve & protect 
is poisonous. 
Picture
Putting the Rain Garden 'To Bed,' Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett
What is
a gal to do? Every
year, it seems, putting the
garden 'to bed' inspires reflection.
This season, for example, I experienced the
impact boundaries have on the flow of energy as well
as the value of plant placement
to ensure safety.
Picture
Energy & Edges, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
What's
next? I have a 
hunch I'll be digging
into the power of assumptions
not just in the garden but also in the rest
of my life. There are just so many
beautiful plants & people
​to behold.
Picture
Monkshood Flowers, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
What will you explore about yourself this winter?
I know I am not always what I seem.
​What about you?

Picture
Monkshood Detail, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
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Take a Bite of That Apple!

9/25/2020

2 Comments

 
Picture
Ugly Apples, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
A worm
or some other
bug took a few bites 
out of these apples. Question
for the day: Do I hide or celebrate
these 'ugly fruit'? I'm increasingly done
with perfection of any kind, so here's what
emerged. I say, "welcome sweet
creatures. There's plenty
to go around."
Picture
Arching Apple, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It made
me think: Who
really said that a bite of an
apple leads to banishment? What
an absurd story. Apples provide essential
nourishment for the body, mind,
heart & soul.
Picture
Arching Apple Tree, September 2016 Photo by ERSwett
And our
particular tree,
a gift from my in-laws
in 2014, bends but does not
break with time. What does it take
to be so flexible? What does
it understand & what
can it teach me?
Picture
Apple Tree in Spring, 2018 Photo by ERSwett
While
I 'compost' 
the
issues -- race, political
discord, economic disparity and,
yes, that nagging issue, Climate Change,
i
t feeds on living mulches, provides
perches for birds & in spring
is a beautiful focal
point in the
garden.
Picture
Abundant Apple Tree, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It seems
ironic that this
year, with drought and
psychic tension in the universe,
it is more abundant than ever before.
This portrait reveals a collection of apples
from a much older tree that predates us by a few 
decades (on the left), and a few of our
yummy Honeycrisp in a bowl
made by my husband
thirty years ago
(right).
Picture
Apple Still Life, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
I love
how the soft
light plays on these
discarded cores and peels,
their transformation from apple to
delicious desserts & beautiful compost
a lesson in mindfulness.
Picture
Peelings, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
While
turning the
apples into desserts, I
remembered when our apple
tree first produced five years ago. My
sister and I harvested the entire crop of eight
precious fruit to bring on a cross country road trip from 
New Hampshire to Idaho. We rationed those
home grown Honeyscrip, allowing
ourselves one a day -- each
bite, a precious
gift.
Picture
Apple Tree, September 2015 Photo by ERSwett
We
experienced
joy and a powerful
sense of abundance even
though there was scarcity -- Only
one apple a day. As we drove across North
Dakota & into Montana, we ate the
final apples, savoring their
​crispy juiciness.
Picture
Abundance, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
This
year, there's
drought. The leaves
are sickly. My gratitude is intense,
but subdued. Will this more fragile tree
break from the weight of it all?
Did I care enough?
Picture
The Magic of a Honeycrisp Apple, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
My
relationship
with this tree is ancient,
and I know it's too late for regrets.
Between wheelbarrows full of mulch I stop
and eat an apple. "Don't worry," it
seems to say. "I am strong
and so are you."
Picture
The 'Orchard,' September 25, 2020 Photo by ERSwett

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Healing in the Garden

8/27/2020

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Picture
Monarchs on Joe Pye Weed, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It's true!
If you plant it,
they will
come.

Picture
Raised beds, 2010. Photo by ERSwett
At first,
back in 2010,
I loved straight lines &
beds high enough to deter
our ​new puppy. All I wanted was to
grow lots of food as efficiently
​as possible.

Picture
2013 view looking south with rain barrel experiments in view. Photo by ERSwett
By 2013,
the compost had
moved out; 
Three layers
were too hot & dry; And a new
north-south alignment 
just felt better.
Picture
2015 view into the garden with grapes finally taking off. Photo by ERSwett
Over
time, the ideas in Toby
Hemenway's book
 Gaia's Garden, 
transformed my thinking, inviting experimentation
with fewer paths, more curves & the
integration of pollinator-
friendly plants.
Picture
2016 experiments with mounding and soft edges. Photo by ERSwett
My family
thinks it's crazy to
redesign the garden every
few years as each one seems pretty
cool, like this rounded mounded central axis
filled with a mix of annual vegetables and perennials.
But for me, these changes reveal how this garden was becoming
more than just a space to grow vegetables. It was
a safe place for me to connect with and
explore the power of the
earth herself, this
thing called
Gaia.
Picture
2018 abundance. It turns out, though, that I prefer bush beans. Photo by ERSwett
By 2018,
cucumbers emerged
from beneath pole beans, borage
invited pollinators, and there was hardly a
need to water, as the composted and well-shaded
soil sustained itself throughout the summer. I had finally
created my own 'Gaia's Garden' paradise.
So it seems strange that I would
take it apart & essentially
start over.
Picture
Garden redesign in progress, September 2018 Photo by ERSwett
But
that's just
what I did, creating
a circular space aligned with
the quadrants of a compass and based 

on historic herb garden designs.
I didn't know what this
new space would
be like...
Picture
Completed garden redesign, end of September 2018 Photo by ERSwett
...until
I planted the
echinacea and finally
understood that gardening is not
about how many peas I harvest. For me, it's
about how I can heal myself so that
together my garden and I
can help heal the
earth.
Picture
Abundance 2020 Photo by ERSwett

Summer Reading

In addition to re-reading Gaia's Garden, these others books have also captivated and inspired me this summer. It feels as if the earth is in all of our hands right now. Digging deeper is the only way to go.
​

Drew, Sarah Gaia Codex
Hemenway, Toby Gaia's Garden
Jewell, Jennifer The Earth in Her Hands
Kincaid, Jamaica My Garden (Book): 
Penniman, Leah Farming While Black
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Energy & Edging

8/16/2020

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Picture
Our 'new' front yard garden, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Welcome.
When I walk into
our 'new' front yard, it's
like magic. The granite pavers
guide me past the front
door and around
​to the back,
Picture
Our 'new' side garden, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
where ​pungent
SummerSweet and cheerful
purple Coneflower (echinacea) beckon.
"Come," they say. "You are
​safe here."
Picture
Echinacea (Coneflower) Photo by ERSwett
And I am.
Bees frolick and
I feel a warm embrace
not just from the plants, but
from all the people who guided
me to this time and this place. It seems
hard to believe that in the midst
of a global crisis, I have
​found such joy in
​the garden.
Picture
Calvin lounging in the sun, early May 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Just
three months
ago, Calvin and I sat
in our front 'yard.' Still early
in the COVID crisis, we were eager
to be outside. For me, though, this space
between our house & the road
was not a calming
​place.
Picture
The front yard, early June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
In fact,
it was unsettling.
Perhaps it was the abrupt
contrast 
between the lawn & the
trees or maybe it was 
the way the lawn
just headed off 
into our neighbor's
property, 
carrying my
energy 
with it --
away.
Picture
A work in progress, June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
But with my
son ready to help,
we gave new form to this
part of our yard. By mid June
there was a layer of
healthy soil &
​mulch.
Picture
Gro-Low Sumac, Detail August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
By mid July,
I had planted the
hillside with a cool mix of
native plants, including Gro-low
Sumac and Joe Pye Weed. In the process,
I co-opted some more of the lawn,
which really is just a nasty
water hog that 
has 
​no nutritional
value.
Picture
Joe Pye Weed (Eutrochium purpureum) August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
The more
I walked among this
increasing variety of plants,
the more grounded I felt in every ​way,
not just because a formally neglected place was
getting attention, but because it was
coming to life - the winged
creatures were
showing
​up.

Picture
Scented Geranium, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
But
even with
this beauty, there
was something missing.
The more time I spent in this
place, the more I realized that it had
​something to do with the
flow of energy.
Picture
The original brick edging, July 2020 Photo by ERSwett
From prior
experiments, I realized
that it was all about 
​edging and
the clear definition of boundaries. T
he
bricks that had been in the front of the original
bed for decades were not strong enough
to contain the power of what
​
this part of our land
was ​becoming. 
Picture
Granite pavers - getting started, late July 2020 Photo by ERSwett
So,
it was with
great enthusiasm that
during the last week in July, I
carried one hundred pavers from a pallet
at Gardener's Supply in Lebanon, NH
into and out of the car, slowly
laying them into the soil,
and in the process,
transforming
this place.
Picture
The edging in place, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Our
initial design
did not include edging
material nor did it include this
connection between the front and back
yards. But this mix of stone and
diverse plantings created
an increasingly
​dynamic
space.
Picture
The view on a cloudy day, edging and all, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Power
emerges when
when there are natural
connections among people, plants
& place. Earlier today, 
I could almost hear
the 
conversation between the two varieties of
SummerSweet, one in the front and
​the other 
along the north
​side of the house. 
Picture
Summersweet, Ruby Spice, Photo by ERSwett
Picture
Summersweet, Hummingbird Photo by ERSwett
It was
as if Karen
who introduced me
to "Ruby Spice" in 2016
was actually talking with Kelsey,
who, working off what we already had,
integrated "Hummingbird" into the
front design in 2018. Together,
in 2020 they provide a
mid-summer
​banquet.
Picture
First Monarch of the year in the Hummingbird Summersweet, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
I love
​how these various

groundcovers, shrubs and trees
embody the positive spirits of the many
plants people throughout the Upper Valley who
nurtured them so that someone like
me could come along and
use them to create
a garden.
Picture
Various rocks, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And
now that
garden comforts​
and inspires because of
how a few 
small stones in various
shapes and sizes can contain a mix of plants
while also enabling 
life-giving
energy to flow.
Picture
Our front garden, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett

Local Resources

At one time or another, Kelsey & Karen worked at Henderson's Garden Center in White River Junction, VT. The Garden Center is run by Sylvia Provost, who always has amazing ideas and plants for any project.

Permaculture Solutions, LLC Karen Ganey shares her creative gifts through consultations, design and installation. 

Gardener's Supply, Lebanon, NH A friendly place to find native trees, shrubs, perennials and vegetable starts.

E.C.Brown's Nursery, Thetford, VT A welcoming place to find native trees, shrubs and perennials. 

Ongoing inspiration from friends at the
Hanover Garden Club and colleagues on the Sustaining Landscapes Committee in Hanover. 
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Freeing the Blueberries

6/11/2020

2 Comments

 
Picture
Blueberry shrubs in Lyn's garden. Photo by ERSwett
It's easy
to ignore the 
blueberry bushes.
I can't see them from the
house or from the gardens close
to the house. A few years ago they were
productive, but they've never
been ​abundant, so I
end up kind of
​ignoring
them.
Picture
Trying to free the blueberry shrubs from the grass in Lyn's garden. Photo by ERSwett
Until
yesterday,
when they called
for attention. As I am
apt to do, I dove in, slashing
the grasses 
with my Japanese Hori
Hori 
gardening knife, madly
giving those 
poor
plants some
​air. 
Picture
Diving deep Photo by ERSwett
On the
first bush, I just
cut back the grass; On the
next one, though, I focused on one
section, pulling up grass by the roots. It was
harder work, especially since we're having a drought
and the soil is compacted and dry. But as I 
said, I was in one of those "I have
take care of this NOW"
kind of moods.
Picture
Perspectives on a blueberry shrub. Photo by ERSwett
When
I stopped for
some water, though,
my 'yay me look what I've
been doing' moment became 'oh
no, there's so much more.' How often do
I focus on one part of a thing and
feel great about it, until I
​notice how much
more there is
to do?
Picture
Making slow progress with the blueberries. Photo by ERSwett
That's
how I feel
right now with all
that is happening in our
country and around the world.
It is easy to ignore things I can not see,
whether because they are actually
out of sight or because I
have such a narrow
point of
view.
Picture
More work. Photo by ERSwett
There ​is
no quick fix
for these struggling
shrubs. They need so much
more than air and space. But after
the superficial grass removal & my one
'deep dive' with that one bush,
my hands ached and I
needed to
​rest.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 1 Photo by ERSwett
But
when the
rain stopped this
afternoon I went to visit
those same bushes, this time
with my camera. In that cool late
afternoon light that cast such appealing
shadows, I stopped disparaging these forgotten
shrubs and instead paid attention to their actual shape,
colors and texture. 
Buried in 
those demanding &
overpowering grasses, though, these
blueberry bushes revealed

poise & resilience.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 2 Photo by ERSwett
 But I felt
sad & really bad
that I had not actually
provided them the nutrients
& care they needed to thrive and I am
sure they were annoyed when I whispered
"please be patient. The entire garden is calling. I'll
be back." How could they not be annoyed? They know
that in recent years 
I have only paid attention to them when
blueberries are in season (when there's something in
it for me); They also know that I have 
been
disappointed ​with their production
even though I have 
obviously
been ignoring their
​needs.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 3 Photo by ERSwett
 As I
created
these images
& whispered those
promises, I could feel their
skepticism & anger. "Yes," they're
probably thinking, "you do have a lot to
manage. But you planted us in the first place.
It really is your job to figure out how to not just
admire us, but to also do what it takes
so that we & all these other plants
can thrive in this garden
of your design &
​making.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 4 Photo by ERSwett
2 Comments

Meaning in the Garden

6/7/2020

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Picture
Ready to Work, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
There's
work to do 
at home and all
around, so we've been
working - digging & mulching,
pruning & planting. It
​feels good to
​work hard.
Picture
Yard sale Bird Surrounded Photo by ERSwett
And
even though
these phlox are out
of control and need attention,
I'm OK with their extravagant abundance
because five years ago, there was
nothing in that particular place
but a neglected corner
of the terrace.
Picture
Purples on the hillside, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Those
lupin blew over
from a neighbor's field,
but the comfrey by its side and
those chives behind were intentionally
planted to increase soil fertility on what was once
a rocky dry hillside. These woodland phlox, so different
from those flowers surrounding the bird,
thrive in a space that was once
a pile of sticks.
Picture
Woodland phlox in the shade of river birches. Photo by ERSwett
These
phlox and
this myrtle (or
Vinca Minor) have
finally merged on the
hillside by our driveway.
5 years in the making,
this space is, at
last, feeling
whole.
Picture
Merging groundcovers in the front. Photo by ERSwett
I am
grateful
to my garden
for reminding me
that neglected places
can be transformed. There
just needs to be a plan, focused
attention, and patience to
let what will emerge,
​emerge.
Picture
Bearded Iris planted in 2018 - - finally coming into their own. Photo by ERSwett
Purples
are beginning
to share the stage with
other colors, like these white
flowers on a lone Hawthorn tree that
is abuzz. It was for these pollinators that we
created this garden in the first place, so hearing them
in action gives me hope and purpose as I
go outside to get back
​to work.
Picture
Pollinators in action on the Hawthorn tree. Photo by ERSwett
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Thank You, Spring

5/16/2020

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Picture
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...

Picture
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.
Picture
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.

Picture
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. 
Picture
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.
Picture
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.
Picture
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.
Picture
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.
Picture
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.
Picture
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.
Picture
Forget-Me-Not & Sweet Woodruff Photo by ERSwett
0 Comments

Leaves & The List

11/14/2019

0 Comments

 
Picture
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.

Picture
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.
Picture
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...

Picture
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.
Picture
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.

Picture
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.
Picture
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. 
Picture
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.
0 Comments

Big Little Things: Summer 2019

7/8/2019

1 Comment

 
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.
Picture
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. 
Picture
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.
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
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.  ​
Picture
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.
Picture
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.
Picture
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.

Picture
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.
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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.
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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?
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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

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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.
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Tree-Solar Trade-Offs

8/17/2018

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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?
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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.
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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.
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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.  
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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. 
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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. 
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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?
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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)
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    Evelyn R. Swett
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    compost re-imagined
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