Bake Your Own Local Loaves

Baking your own daily bread is something you can do with a minimum of equipment, ingredients and knowledge. Doing so will improve your diet, and your life. It a wondrous tactile experience making it, and an odoriferous delight baking it. Kneading a warm blob of dough for 5 meditative minutes is the antidote for a busy world, and fresh loaves on the counter are better than dollars in the bank.

No wonder 'dough' and 'bread' have been slang for money. Bread's importance as a food staple over thousands of years makes a comparison with cash warranted. It is as important a part of our diet today as it ever was, and is referred to as 'the staff of life' for good reasons.

This staff sustained millions of poor through the Middle Ages, caused riots and uprisings, and has been mentioned repeatedly in writings across the ages. Having our daily bread means we are able to work on improving ourselves and the world around us. Without our 'bread' we are reduced to survival. Providing this basic food source for yourself and your family has the potential to be a powerfully satisfying activity.

Baking your own bread fits with the trend toward eating as locally as possible. If you are lucky enough to have a nearby source of wheat your baking becomes a sustainable activity that will eliminate problems associated with buying industrial bread transported from away.

Seven years ago I decided to try my hand at baking bread. I was not satisfied with dollar per loaf bread, and the more substantial loaves I liked were expensive. They also had ingredients I would never add myself, such as glucose-fructose, calcium propionate, diacetyl tartaric acid esters of mono and diglycerides, vegetable monoglycerides, sodium stearoyl-2-lactylate, and the list goes on, and on, and on.

Some of the additives used in industrial bakeries allow a faster baking time and the use of lower grade flours. Other additives make sure the bread does not go bad during shipping. It won't do that until you buy it and take it home. I bought my first 10kg (20lb) bag of flour, and started channelling my grandmother's legendary baking skills.

When I was a child, my grandparent's visits were anticipated for a variety of reasons. Prime among them was that a visit meant shortly after arrival, our kitchen would be covered from top to bottom with a bounty of baked goods. Grandma would whip into our kitchen and take over. She assembled equipment and managed ingredients with military precision. "She doesn't even need any recipes," I marveled as I looked on through a flurry of flour and activity.

I watched her pummel large heaps of dough. It looked like the folds of skin that swung gently from her strong arms, in time with her kneading. She may of been attacking the dough with vigor, but her demeanor was calm, and she hummed quietly to herself as she worked and created her magic. She was content and relaxed, and smiled a little smile. It was cold outside. The kitchen was warm.

Before long baking odors would be eliciting generous amounts of drool in little mouths. Our eyes would be as big as plates as we viewed the sugar-encrusted donuts, bread, dinner rolls, cinnamon rolls, cakes and pies scattered over every available surface. Twisted donut creations, the name and recipe of which grandma may have taken to the big bakery in the sky when she 'rose' to that lofty position, were family favourites. My personal preference was the bread, though. Puffy, golden crust, white, moist crumb (the inside bits). Before long a loaf would be sliced open, steamy, yeasty, and fresh. We would mix butter and honey in equal parts and spread that on the still warm slices.

I have since learned that the basics of bread making are easy to learn. Flatbreads, like chapati or tortillas, are simply flour and water. You may already make pancakes, another of my favourite bread products. Add a bit of yeast, oil, sugar, salt, and water to flour and you can make beautiful, basic loaves. A slightly different mix, a few tablespoons of olive oil and you have an amazing pizza crust. Pita bread, raisin bread, cinnamon rolls, biscuits, burger buns... Once the basics are learned anything is possible. With wholesome ingredients you can't go wrong.

I have not had a failure in seven years. I have had a few projects that needed to be re-branded, though. For example, a heavy bread that didn't rise as much as anticipated became 'bagel bread'. Tasted great. After a few times you can begin to play and add your own creative touches. It is easy to feel child-like with your hands deep in dough.

Kids love baking bread, and since it is very straight forward activity, they can participate fully. There is the promise of a yummy food at the end, plus the rewards of doing it yourself. This promise holds whether you are a kid, or a kid at heart.

Does baking your own bread save money? Short answer - yes. I have not done a detailed accounting because I firmly believe that time spent baking is not deducted from your lifetime total. It may even prolong your lifespan, and that is just for the baking part. If you are baking whole wheat bread there are added benefits in the eating. The fiber is like a roto-rooter for you digestive tract, and healthy inside means healthy outside.

The following lists everything I made with one of my recent bags of flour (10kg):

• 13 loaves bread
• 24 green onion cakes
• 38 tortillas
• 36 pancakes
• 36 spice cookies
• 2 pizza crusts
• 1 chocolate cake
• 12 chapatis
• 13 samosas

A quick and rough estimate of how much it would cost to purchase these products pre-made came to about $170.00 dollars.

Before the global economic crisis a bag of flour cost me about $5.00 dollars. During food riot time that same bag was $12.00. That was about a year ago, and for some reason the baking area of my grocery store often looked like there had been a riot just before I got there. I grabbed my flour and ran. Things appear to have settled down since then and now a bag of whole wheat flour is about $6.00 and I can walk to the till. But even at the most expensive, it still looks to me like a bargain. And you can't put a price on the enjoyment of manipulating ingredients to create a staple, wholesome, life-sustaining food such as your daily bread.




My basic whole wheat bread recipe (makes 3 loaves):

3 cups lukewarm water 750ml
1 tsp sugar 5 ml
2 tbsp dry yeast 25ml
1/2 cup vegetable oil 125ml
1/2 cup sugar 125ml
1 tbsp salt 15ml
9 cups whole wheat flour

1. In a mixing bowl pour in 1 cup lukewarm water; sprinkle with 1 tsp sugar and the yeast. Let proof for 10 minutes in a warm place.
2. Whisk in the remaining water, oil, sugar and salt. Stir in flour 1/2 cup at a time to make a stiff dough.
3. Knead for 4 or 5 minutes or until smooth, satiny, elastic and bounces back when pressed lightly with a finger. Consistency of an earlobe.
4. Wipe bowl lightly with oil, drop in dough and turn to coat. Cover with a cloth and allow to rise in warm location (oven with light on works well) till doubled, 1-1 1/2 hours.
5. Punch dough down, divide into three, and shape into loaves. Put loaves in lightly greased pans, cover, and return to oven for another hour.
6. Remove loaves, keep covered, and pre-heat oven to 400 F. (200 C). Put bread in for 15 minutes at 400, then 15 more minutes at 375. Remove and turn loaves out on to counter/cooling rack.
7. Pat self on back. Wait for loaves to cool a bit, then slice and enjoy.

All in all I spend about 20 minutes from start to first dough rising. Punching down, forming loaves, greasing pans and back in oven for second rising takes about another 20 minutes. By this point the bulk of work is done. After the second rising all that is left is the baking, the cooling, and the eating. Clean up is wiping the bread pans lightly with a damp, warm cloth, letting them dry and putting them away.

Good luck, and have fun. May you find enjoyment in the meditative pace that a day of baking provides. Learn with your kids. What a wonderful skill to pass on to them. Eat better, and reduce your impact at the same time. Learn to bake your own daily bread. Your ancestors did it. You can do it.

Extreme Frugal Living: The Ultimate Household Budget

Most people hate budgeting. It forces us to limit ourselves and we have been programmed to believe and act as if everything exists in infinite abundance, and we ought to have it now, if not sooner.  But look at where that has gotten us.

I propose a very simple, easy to implement budget.

The Ultimate Household Budget has two categories:

1. What you need to survive, and
2. Everything else.

Category 1 consists of the basics, things every human ought to have. Healthy food, safe, secure, affordable shelter, clothing adequate for the climate, clean drinking water, systems to deal with waste, and access to learning experiences.

Without these basics, many die every day. Every human ought to have them, and in a sane world every one would. If you have them, you are doing better than about one billion people on the planet.

Category 2 consists of extras. Wants. Desires. Luxury. Extra. Expendable. Can live without. Contrary to popular belief, we will not die without the things in this category.

This budget has one step: give up everything in category 2.

Don't worry. You can start slowly. You can take months or years, if you have that luxury. But category 2 spending has to go if you have a shortage of cash, or wish to help the ailing planet. Everything you take out of category 2 helps you get out of debt, and stay out of debt, if that is your goal.

And it lowers your ecological footprint dramatically.

But won't it be boring? How can I live without (fill in the blank)? Humans are amazingly adaptable creatures. "Have much, be confused," Lao Tzu said, and if he is correct, then having less is the way to go. Couldn't we all benefit from less confusion in our lives?

Is eliminating all category 2 spending unrealistic for you? Start by taking one thing off your list. Then remove a couple more items. When you realize you don't miss them, you will be motivated to cut more. Give the ultimate household budget and extreme frugal living a try. You will be amazed at what you can live happily without. Good luck.

Capitalism: I Tried It, I'm Just Not Good At It

When still in high school I entered the dark world of capitalism. It was my first foray into using money to make more money, rather than using my labour or ideas. I was a lazy teenager, and I had great expectations for this road to riches. Extreme wealth was inevitable. Why not? The capitalist system had been making individuals wealthy since the Middle ages.

For my initial business investment of $750.00 I reaped exactly nothing in profit. Never mind profit, I could not even get my initial investment back. After waiting several long, disappointing days, I swung a new deal. In the end I settled for a car that I hoped was worth at least the money I was owed.

The car was a well-used 1969 Mustang coupe with faded paint and a motor that sounded like a tractor. Dreams of a lucrative business venture quashed, I began to make lemonade out of my lemon. I drove the Mustang for thirteen years, then sold it for $750. I had salvaged something from my first attempt at commerce, and learned that the world of business was strictly survival of the fittest. Wealth would have to wait.



My saddest exploration of the underbelly of greed and wealth accumulation occurred when I brushed up against a millionaire in my home town. He was known to my family and was a respected man about town and at church. Mr. Money had a huge house complete with indoor swimming pool. Surely he would take me under his wing and share his secret to wealth. At the time I was employed in a job I did not like, and looked forward to quitting once the riches began to roll in.

This was Mr. Money's business plan:

I was to steal from my employer, then deliver the goods to his house for his home renovation project. Since I would get the materials for free, he would be able to purchase them from me at a great discount. It was, he explained, a win-win situation.

Except of course, for my employer, the actual owner of the goods in question. And my conscience.

I was puzzled. Why would a man, already swimming in money, propose such a devious, unethical, and illegal plan? Then it dawned on me. This is how capitalism worked. You get things as cheaply as possible, then sell them for as much as possible. This millionaire did not steal because he was rich, he was rich because he was willing to steal. He would do anything to minimize his output and maximize his bottom line, even if it meant theft.

I filled the trunk of my Mustang and drove off to complete my second business venture. I finished with a pocket full of cash, but was unable to enjoy it. My guilt overwhelming, I started serving my sentence immediately. So much for business venture number two. "If this is how people get ahead", I thought to myself, "then I am willing to fall behind."

Today I am mildly repulsed by the world of business. There are good business practitioners out there, but throw money into a pit anywhere and you are going to see a fight. Capitalism will bring out the worst in all involved. Show me big money and I will show you criminal activity. Lottery frauds are one small example. The recent global economic meltdown is another.

The capitalist system is just as bereft of workable solutions as the Soviet system once was. The best system will be a balanced blend of the two. In that regard income redistribution would be the best case scenario for both those that do not have enough, and for those who have too much. Robert Anton Wilson recommended a guaranteed annual income, saying:

A system that is less expensive than welfare and also less debasing to the poor, it seems to me, should not be objectionable to anybody but hardcore sadists.

Where's the exit? I'm out. I would rather give things away than sell them. Commerce makes me feel dirty. I can hear the little suited guy on my shoulder whispering sweet schemings in my ear. It does not feel right. I don't want to buy, and I don't want to sell. I am a failed capitalist.

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme: How Do We Know What To Desire?

I was watching an episode of Star Trek: Next Generation the other day. "Deja Q" involved an omniscient alien that had been kicked out of the Q Continuum, a guild for the all-powerful beings of his race. The Continuum was punishing Q for being naughty, and his punishment was to be confined to a physical body for a period of time. Q chose to take the form of a human being on the Enterprise. He had gone from an all-powerful and immortal entity to a puny human. He needed to be consoled.

An obliging crew member took Q to 10-Forward, a crew lounge. At the bar the crew member told Q that he could have anything he desired. Q, being new to his human form, pimples, desires and all, asked, "How do I know what to desire?" That got me to thinking about one of my favourite videos.

I think it was on America's Funniest Home Videos (aging self now). In it a small boy unwrapped a large present with great gusto. He ripped the decorative paper off revealing plain cardboard beneath, then stepped back and yelled, "A box! A box!" He jumped up and down joyously in response to this amazing gift. Like Q, he didn't know what to desire.

Witnesses to the child's open-minded reaction would chuckle, then gently (or not so gently), show the child that he is suppose to desire the object IN the box, not the box itself. Indeed, the box will quickly be shuffled out of the living room and into the recycling, its destiny fulfilled.

The video was only a few seconds long, so it did not show the boy's reaction afterward. But I could just picture him clutching some unimaginative, garishly coloured plastic toy while his time machine, castle turret, go cart, and tollbooth disguised as a cardboard box was carried off to the garbage. He is learning what to desire.

We are trained what to desire by our culture and its agents, including parents and friends. In addition to such forces, and perhaps dwarfing such forces, is the global advertising business. It spends about half a trillion dollars a year training you in what to desire. By comparison, total global government spending on education is about 2 trillion dollars.

That $500 000 000 000 advertising budget is spent to train us to desire what is most profitable. Such desires will not include clean air and water. Or love, generosity, cooperation, independence, self-reliance, or "do it yourself".

Then we have to add in money spent on public relations. The Public Relations Society of America reports:

U.S. spending on public relations increased 12 percent to $4.27 billion in 2007, as companies sought improved methods of promoting their products and services in a perpetual news cycle. This marked the industry’s fourth straight year of double-digit growth.

I am questioning what I desire, and why I desire it. I am questioning who gains from the fulfillment of my desires. I want to find value in the box, rather than the expensive, shiny, soon-to-be-ignored bauble inside. Let's climb into that cardboard box and use our imaginations to whisk us off to the world that we desire, rather than some slick, fake world that someone is trying to sell us.

My Mom Would Think You're Lazy

Anyone seriously considering downsizing, or living with less, is going to be up against formidable opposition. Courage, perseverance, and a tough leathery hide are required to venture into the Simple Zone. When troubled times call for us to go shopping in order to do our part, not doing so is risking being unpatriotic. Being seen as a penny-pinching tight-wad pales in comparison.

When I first decided that I wanted to delve deeper into simple living, some thought I was making a colossal mistake, or worse. I could have stayed in my teaching position until I was 65, rather than retire at age 40.

Thing is, over the course of my career I heard of many colleagues that passed away shortly before, or just after retiring. All that financial planning is rendered ineffective if you die before the first pension check hits your mailbox. I had to change my life before it happened to me.

I took a two year sabbatical first, wanting to ease into a life with less. After the freedom of these two years I couldn't go back. I quit.

"If you don't teach what will you do?" I was asked. My mind was reeling thinking of the infinite possibilities. Don't get me wrong, teaching was one of the most incredible and satisfying things I have ever done. But it has a way of consuming your time; it takes over your life, becomes your life. It is 'right livelihood' but at what cost?

Someone else asked, "What about retirement?" Since I try to live in the moment, considering this was not at the top of my list. Sixty-five felt like a long way away, and I wanted to retire to a simpler life immediately.

My favorite reaction, though, came from two individuals I didn't even know. I explained to these friends of friends, that I had quit teaching to live a slower-paced, environmentally responsible, low-income life.

The young couple were silent as they shook their heads in response to my words. Finally the woman looked at me, and proclaimed, "My mom would think you are lazy."

Ouch. Move over Big Brother, Big Mother is here.

Call me a slacker, call me a hippie, a radical even, but don't tell me your Mom thinks I'm lazy. That's just mean. I guess what she was saying was she thought that my work ethic sucked.

This is what 20th-century French philosopher André Gorz wrote about the work ethic:

The work ethic has become obsolete. It is no longer true that producing more means working more, or that producing more will lead to a better way of life. 

The connection between more and better has been broken; our needs for many products and services are already more than adequately met, and many of our as-yet-unsatisfied needs will be met not by producing more, but by producing differently, producing other things, or even producing less. 

This is especially true as regards our needs for air, water, space, silence, beauty, time and human contact. Neither is it true any longer that the more each individual works, the better off everyone will be.

- Critique of Economic Reason, 1989

Go tell your momma that.

We have to become smarter about work and consumption and quality of life. We have to lift our foot off the gas pedal as we speed toward the precipice. If that means affecting the 72% of the economy that consumer spending accounts for, then so be it.

It has to happen or we are going over the cliff. I do not intend to do a Thelma and Louise thing. I am getting out of the car before it takes the plunge, even if your mom thinks I'm lazy, and wants to see me disappear over the horizon.

Oh, and by the way? Your mom is wrong.

Old Skills For A New World: Canning, Baking, Gardening on The Upswing

Modern society moves at a bewildering pace. Hardly able to keep up we succumb to the enticements of technology, entertainment, and the fast life. We are busy having fun, but along the way we have forgotten how to take care of ourselves. Basic skills of self sufficiency are dying with our elders. Increasingly, people are looking to low tech 'heritage' methods of living.

Progress and prosperity have made us into the largest collection of humanity in history incapable of taking care of ourselves. Houses and cars have become wombs, government and big business the umbilical cord. What will we do as we are born into a new world of expensive energy and deteriorating environment?

Our fault is to feel safe and secure in our habits, as if the way things are now is the way they will always be. Recent global economic turmoil has shown us the precariousness of this illusion. Things can, and will change, and we best be ready.

Heritage skills, as we refer to them today, are tried and tested instructions for taking care of ourselves. Activities like sewing, canning, and kneading bread seem like quaint pastimes from ancient history. Victory Gardens are making a comeback, as are food preservation workshops.

VicinSea, commenting on a previous post here, let me know she is a 20 year simple liver and part-time heritage skills teacher teaching food preservation, basketry, sewing/repairs and other self-sufficiency workshops in the Seattle area. It looks like she is keeping busy.

We are dependent on technology and low cost fossil energy to provide us with what we need. What happens when cheap energy is gone? Will you reach for the power can opener, or its hand-powered equivalent? What happens if trucks stop delivering food to our supermarkets, or the food they deliver is so expensive we can't afford it? We can learn skills to take care of our needs within our communities. Victoria, B.C. has a variety of options for learning.

Who has time to bake bread, let alone can your own produce? Make your own clothing? Right. But when cheap energy is gone, or we have lost or quit our job, we will need to look for healthier, less expensive alternatives. Life skills from days gone by will serve us well in the future.

Choosing a less complicated lifestyle is about freeing up time so I can live in ways that are beneficial to myself, others, and the environment. You either spend time in the blackberry bramble and the canning corner, or you spend time at work so you can pay someone to pick the berries, process them, and ship them to your local store.

I would rather harvest the berries and risk the bramble thorns. I would rather tend a bubbling cauldron of blackberry jamiliciousness. I would rather live a slower, less money-oriented, independent existence.

I love having the time to choose to pick berries and get scratched... in the rain. An added benefit is that I know what is in my food. I am in complete control of ingredients. No MSG, no high-sucrose corn syrup. And it saves me money.

If you are a life-long student, creating a simpler, slower-paced lifestyle could be for you. My household has already had Blackberry JamFest 2009, and a case of the freshest Blackberry jam available awaits the whole wheat, home-baked bread. We have had time to learn about a whole food, vegetarian diet. It has not been a burden, this change to simpler, lower-tech living. It is an interesting, thrilling, and tasty adventure.

Now my partner and I are learning how to cut each others hair. This is a money saving idea that is sure to be popular with the women, most of whom would rather go out in public without makeup than let their partner anywhere near their hair with scissors. Go slowly - you can always cut it shorter, you can't cut it longer. What could be next? Rock wall building? Hide tanning? Flint knapping?

What will you do when the power goes out? How about setting your songbook up on your inert laptop, take out your acoustic guitar, and, using your old-style ipod shuffle as a slide, sing the power's-out blues. Then have some home-baked bread with your own canned jam, followed by canned peaches by candle light. When it is time to turn in you can crawl under the bed cover you quilted with scrap pieces of fabric from your electric blanket. Heritage skills, not just for your grandparents any more.

Do I Really Need A Car?

My partner and I still own a vehicle. And it is no micro, go-cart that I need to watch lest a rogue pack of Girl Guides tip it over. Neither is it a hybrid. It is a small North American truck with four wheel drive. It is thousands of pounds of glass, rubber, steel, and old pollution-reduction technology. But it is black and shiny, and I knew when I first laid eyes on it that we were destined to travel the open and rough road together.

I agreed to feed it regular fuel, oil, and other mechanical fluids, as well as lavish it with a large portion of my monthly income in order to keep it in top shape. It, in turn, promised to free me from the drudgery of the every day, and propel me and my stuff to any exciting destination of my choice. And return me home safely. All the while making me look like a rugged and able individual (ick, how North American).

It was a useful and completely justified purchase, I told myself. I had visions of stream crossings, water fans spraying up from gnarly tires. Steep hills, washboard logging roads, and deep snow were now nothing against the four clawing wheels of my uber-mobility device. It would be worth it. If you live in North America you need a car, right? And if a two wheeler is good, a four wheeler is better.

We haunted the backroads and logging roads of British Columbia for a couple of months each year after we bought the truck. This was not so long ago when the Provincial Forestry Service maintained hundreds of back country camp grounds, most of them free. Only a few are free now, and many others have been decommissioned due to funding cuts of years gone by.

While it lasted, though, it was a great way to spend a few weeks of rustic camping for low cost. However, most of the time our truck, which was "built tough", was handling the hazards of a modern city: construction zones, potholes, terribly rough pavement, the odd foot or two of snow, and appearances at the opera. Of course, my friend Sarah handles all that on her daily mountain bike commute, although I am not sure she can get the valet parking at the opera.

Today, living in our truck and driving crazy roads far from everywhere for weeks at a time seems extravagant, both in the outlay of money for fuel, and the environmental impact. However, it was probably nothing compared to my daily slogging commute to school in the city.

When we were in the city we asked ourselves where we would like to be when fossil fuels ran out. What if we couldn't, or chose not to, drive? We figured we better like where we were if the farthest we could get was under our own power. We decided on the west coast. When we got here we gave ourselves a limit for driving: an area 50 kms (31 miles) from home. After a while we reduced that to 40 kms (24 miles), then 30 (18 miles). Since then we have discovered more than enough in our immediate neighbourhood and community to keep us busy and adventuring for the foreseeable future.

Currently, we drive just a few times a month. Often that is for work. The rest of the time I have been using my bicycle for errands. We are now to the point where we are wondering why we should keep a private vehicle at all. The shiny truck feels more like an expensive ball and chain than the freedom machine that manufacturers' ads depict.

I am rediscovering cycling, and am having the best year for cycle adventures since I was a 10 year old hippie-in-training living in Eugene, Oregon (while my dad went to school). My bicycle has delivered the freedom that the auto manufactures promise, but can't deliver with their current products. I roll along my local roadways and trails completely carbon-free, feeling fit and completely liberated from the complication, expense, and danger of driving.

Perhaps I can trade the truck for a cycle rickshaw, and transport my partner in style, carbon-free. Better yet, maybe someone will think of a simple, sustainable solution to our personal mobility needs, although it is difficult to improve on tried and true technologies.

Like bicycles and cycle rickshaws.

Top photo by: ВиКо (modern cycle rickshaw in Moscow)
Bottom photo by: K.C. Wilson (Alternative Transportation In Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada)

When Is Your Turn On the Heat Day?

On recent evenings while walking the hood, I see wood smoke emanating from houses snuggling down for the night. Leaves are beginning to fall, and migrating birds are on the move. That can only mean one thing - it will soon be time to turn on the heat in our home.

Forty to fifty percent of global energy demand is used for heating and cooling, and they contribute about the same percentage of greenhouse gases. The WorldWatch Institute reports that worldwide in 2005, half the energy use in buildings went toward space heating. The amount of energy we use to heat our homes is huge. But keeping comfortable has its environmental costs.

In my part of the world using electricity for heat is common, as is using wood. Our electricity is largely hydro-powered, but dam and reservoir complexes have their own impacts. Most North Americans rely on coal, gas, or nuclear power plants to maintain indoor comfort. Unless you are generating renewable heat energy, your home heating is adding to the atmosphere's carbon load.

In a recently published study by the C.D. Howe Institute, reviewed by Victoria Hollick,  comparing Canadian  alternative energy programs and sources, the study concludes that "the lowest-cost and highest-value programs are the renewable heat and power technologies, which include solar air heating, solar water heating, solar electricity, wind and biomass." Using solar energy for space and water heating is one of the most efficient and effective ways to reduce our carbon footprint.

Until such a time that our infrastructure changes to accommodate renewable solutions, most of us will be using conventional methods for space heating. One way to reduce the impact of these old technologies is to limit our use of them. My household has started to track "Turn On The Heat Day" as a way to see when our carbon footprint is about to increase. It makes us aware of our personal contributions to a changing biosphere.

When we were in the north Indian town of Mussoorie, nestled in the foothills of the Himalaya, there was no Turn On The Heat Day at the guest house we were staying at. Days were warm, but evenings could see snow and our room was quite cool. Don't take your coat off.

We quickly got the hang of it, though. Stay in the sun until it sets, then don the warm clothing. Keep it on till bedtime, then jump into bed with a couple of large water bottles filled with hot water. It was a minimalist approach to our heating needs and worked rather well. It made us think about our energy use back home in Alberta, also in the foothills of a major mountain range.

Since then we have made Turn On The Heat Day a fun challenge that marks the turning of the seasons (as does Turn Off The Heat Day). When the day comes depends on many variables, location, weather conditions, and personal preferences. I imagine my sister, up on a mountain side in the Kootenays has already had her Turn On The Heat Day. Out here on the coast it might be a few more weeks. We will wait and see. But as we found out during a winter storm and extended power outage, there are things that we can do to keep warm without cranking the thermostat.

In December of 2006 the coast of B.C. was hammered by the worst wind storm since the 1960's. It knocked down thousands of trees and power poles, and we were without power for 4 days. Our unit's temperature sank to single digits, and bed was pretty much the place to be at any time. Out of bed, full outdoor clothing kept us warm, as did our down sleeping bags. We spent time in our bedroom (a smaller space) with a candle burning, and with our body heat, were quite comfortable.

I am not advocating winter house camping for the masses, but point out that small changes adopted collectively make a huge impact. See how long you can delay Turn on the Heat Day. Get out the sweaters and wool blankets. Trust me, it's fun. Once you have had your day, and your heat source is up and running for the season, see if you can get by using it less. If a space heater will suffice, use it. Turn the thermostat down a couple degrees. Throw less wood into the fire. Exercise indoor more often. A warm body is a tremendous furnace.

If possible, work toward the installation of a solar powered unit for your home. This winter I will have a small solar-powered system for our unit on the west coast. It will be useful during storm season, but we intend on using it as often as overcast winter days allow. It could power our computer and lights, as well as a small space heater.

When was your Turn On The Heat Day? Have you had it yet? I would like to hear from you regarding when your day was, and what you might be doing to delay it, shy of indoor camping. Have fun, and stay warm.

Simple, Simpler, Simplist

There are infinite ways to live less complicated lives more in tune with our ailing planet. How can you tell when you are doing it?

You could be a Simplist if:

- you collect cardboard boxes. You could be an Uber-Simplist if your furniture is made out of them.



- you go to Mexico instead of Spain for your next vacation. You could be an Uber-Simplist if you set up a tent in the backyard.

- you buy dented cans of food in the markdown cart. You could be an Uber-Simplist if you dig those cans from the dumpster behind the store.



- you homebrew your favorite beverage. You could be an Uber-Simplist if you quit drinking.

- drive your vehicle less. You could be an Uber-Simplist if you donate your vehicle to the local Car Share Cooperative and ride your bike. 

- you know who the Tinkers are. You could be an Uber-Simplist if you live like them.



- you are eating less meat. You could be an Uber-Simplist if you let the animals live and get to know beans as well as Henry David Thoreau.


- you are buying fewer books, magazines, cds, dvds... You could be an Uber-Simplist if your library card gets worked out more than your credit card.


- you recognize the frugal habits of teachers such as Buddha, Jesus, Ghandi, Peace Pilgrim, Socrates, and others. You could be an Uber-Simplist if they are your heroes.



- you admire the frugal habits of your grandparents. You could be an Uber-Simplist if your grandparents come to you for tips.

- your ecological footprint is less than 7.1 hectares/17.75 acres (the Canadian average). You could be an Uber-Simplist if your footprint is less than 1.88 hectares/4.7 acres (hectares per person of productive land on Earth).


- you support farmers markets and local growers. You could be an Uber-Simplist if your garden provides all your food.


- your partner cuts your hair. You could be an Uber-Simplist if you cut your own.



- you consider how your habits and choices affect the world. It does not get more Uber than that.

10 Reasons For Adopting a Philosophy of Simplicity

1. To give voice to your values through how you live.

2. To reduce impacts on the natural world.

3. To nurture creativity by balancing left and right brain activity.

4. To provide ourselves with healthy communities, where we have time for each other.

5. To become more self-reliant.

6. To be able to raise our kids.

7. To s-l-o-w... l-i-f-e... d-o-w-n...

8. To be able to concentrate on the creation of sustainable solutions to the world's problems.

9. To become free to realize your personal potential.

10. Because living simply is joyous, challenging, and fun.