We’re having hot weather. Summer hot—but then, you have to wonder, is it more than that? After all, the Northern Hemisphere is currently plagued with three simultaneous Heat Domes. In Europe, from Spain to the United Kingdom, it’s brutally hot, complete with forest fires and heat related deaths. Similarly, from Texas to the Michigan/Wisconsin border there’s a Heat Dome with triple digit temperatures in multiple states…and heading eastward. There’s a third Heat Dome in Asia, but our news on that one is scant.
Here, we are making accommodation changes. Before the heat really hit this week, we rushed to mulch this spring’s tree plantings. When we first started planting, years ago, we didn’t mulch. But we have hotter weather now and things were looking parched. Mulched, and watered, they recovered. Mulching can lower soil temperatures significantly—and in an episode like this, by as much as 20 to 30 degrees. We caught it in the nick of time. Lower soil temperatures, less weeding, and less watering—the mulching is a given. We are clearing parts of the property, so we used the chipper to make the mulch.
We upgraded our generator. The old one we bought for construction—to run the compressor and power tools on the house before the electrical was brought in. We’ve used it for outages, and it runs the entire house adequately, except for the well. The well runs on 220. The generator doesn’t. We found a craigslist deal on an upgrade, one with more power and 220. Power outages are becoming more frequent, and lasting longer, as climate change makes storms more extreme. It makes sense to be prepared. Rick has almost finished the transfer wiring for the new generator.
We’ve decided to put in a rainwater storage tank to use the water from the roof for watering the garden. I’m doing the research now for the right tank. Rainwater is better for the plants than our very, very hard well water. The house sits high above the garden area, so we’ll have adequate pressure, without pumping. It makes sense to save the earlier, spring rains, to tide us through the drier months of summer. This has been a particularly dry summer. It has our attention. We’ll have it all worked out for next season—but it’s an upgrade that makes sense to make us more sustainable.
We bought a tote for tree watering. A tote is a 275 gallon portable tank. They’re recycled from the food industry, where they’re used for transporting raw ingredients. We’ve always watered newly planted trees for the first two years, as needed (most of which are well beyond hose reach.) But “as needed” has increased substantially (as has the number of trees under care.) Sometimes we’re watering twice a week, using a motley assortment of drums and buckets. The tote will reduce “trips” and reduce slosh losses.
And, finally, we’ve decided to mount sunshades around the front porch. The house faces east, and that’s the only direction from which it has no shade from trees. (We’re also planting trees, but that takes time.) If we can block that early morning blast, we can probably shave 3 to 5 degrees from our hot-day temperature swings inside. It makes a difference, our generally shady location and night-time open windows keep the house comfortable—but we could do better. We have no intention of installing air conditioning. You cannot air-condition your way out of a spiraling climate emergency.
These are small steps. But I’m recognizing a change in our approach, and in the way our friends and relatives are meeting the challenge. We’re hardening for the long haul. Climate change isn’t a future hazard. It’s here, now. We’re finding ways to address changing realities, and to further lower our carbon footprint. We have stopped believing that “someone” is going to do something about this. They won’t. So we must.
We won’t give up. And neither should you. We still have the most powerful tool at our disposal. We can vote as though our lives depend upon it. Because they do.
Last week we had to buy honey. Next week, we will run out of potatoes. Last summer’s onion harvest was non-existent. And, in the late fall, I didn’t realize that our new raised beds would freeze earlier than if things had been traditionally planted, in the ground. Fully half of the carrots and beets were solidly frozen in place. We are too new at this to know whether they can be salvaged when the bed thaws. Were we really homesteading, any one of these errors could have spelled a hungry winter.
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