My Failures in Composting

I've been keeping a compost pile going on six years now and I don't think I've ever had a good batch that I can use in my garden.  I'm so frustrated I'm about to give up.  I just had the last straw when I went to go turn over my (spinning drum style) composter and saw that I have an entire ecosystem of fruit flies flying around it.  Gladly, it's in an out of the way part of my yard, but it's a nuisance and a reminder that composting is an art, not a science.

Composting experts will tell you to have a 50/50 ration of "dry or brown" to "wet or green" ingredients. I tend to put more green ingredients, my kitchen and garden scraps, and forget to put in more brown ingredients, such as shredded bills, newspaper or leaves.  The result is an anaerobic mess that never quite cures and attracts pests.

But as much as I want to, I'm not giving up.  In fact, I'm doubling down and getting a cute little crock that will sit on my counter when I have kitchen scraps (instead of a plastic bag out the back) and I'm going to go dump a bunch of leaves in the composter.  Then I'll cross my fingers and hope that history does not repeat itself and I have usable compost by the time planting season begins.

An idea for entrepreneurs out there - start a composting service.  Green minded folks with no ability to compost (me) will sign up.  You can pick up our kitchen scraps once or twice a week, compost it, and then sell us back our waste in the form of local, organic garden soil.  I know the awesome community Prairie Crossing has a similar service in Gray's Lake, Illinois.  Someone needs to start one in my town.  But for all the reasons mentioned above, it won't be me.

The Bees are out...and it's March

Photo credit: AskNature.org

As I sit here in my backyard on this record breaking warm day in March, I am buzzed by bees and wasps flying near my head.  While this is a startling occasion at any time, I wondered how the bees will fare when this unseasonably warm weather cools to the normally chilly spring that we normally have.  We will still have a frost, right?  And thinking about it, how do bees survive Chicago winters at all?  And is there anything we can learn from them?

Learning Resilience from a Sea Star

Image credit: AskNature.org

I am continually amazed by the diversity of life on this planet.  I remember walking the beaches of Sanibel Island as a child and seeing shells and seaweed in so many forms, and having difficulty understanding that these "things" aren't inanimate objects, but forms of life.  They are all so unique and so unlike us, and there is so much we can learn from them to naturally inspire our creativity.  On my recent trip back to Sanibel, I was particularly fascinated by the sea star, which as an echinoderm and related to the sand dollar, an organism that has fascinated my mother for as long as I can remember.  Thinking about the sea star's regeneration abilities got me thinking about natural resilience, so I did a little research.

Thinking about Niches - a Spanish Biomimicry iSite

In Spain for our latest BProfessional intensive, we had an iSite where we picked an organism and looked to find it's niche - how it fits in with its environment. The location of our retreat was a hilly area with lots of clay, falling rocks, and erosion.  And even without a lot of water - the area was almost considered a desert - plants were there to stabilize some of the soil.  There were quite a few plants with really gnarly roots that seemed to zigzag down the slope in such a way that I thought it could be a stabilization mechanism, much like how we spread our feet and place them parallel to the slope to stabilize ourselves on a steep slope.  I can't find any mention of this form in the literature I've referenced, but I'm sticking with my observation until proven wrong.  So when looking at the contextual limiting factors for this Rosemary bush, it would seem that its ability to thrive in unstable soil with poor nutrients and not a lot of water allowed it to carve out a niche where other organisms aren't able to survive.  And the zigzag form is one that I find interesting. This tool for natural observation is one that I find useful when trying to understand the contextual factors that influence an organism's ability to survive and be resilient against adverse conditions.

Drawing of a Nautilus Shell

Abstracting a natural object and graphically depicting it as an architectural object.  

Structure of a Spider Web

It is a well known biomimicry meme that ounce for ounce, spider silk is stronger than steel or Kevlar.  But what is it about the structure of a spider silk that makes it so strong?   Is it the nano scale makeup of the silk?  Is it the pattern?  Do the patterns indicate function?  Over the summer, I've collected a couple images of spider webs as I've seen them and tried to learn a little more about what makes them so special and how we can learn from them.

Spiral orb web in the forest

I started by taking a walk in the forest preserve near my house. Quite quickly I came upon the most ratty looking, massive spider web I'd ever seen.  It looked like something out of a haunted house movie - spiral, torn, and at the center was a huge spider.  As soon as I walked through the brush to get a closer look, the spider took off thinking it should be afraid of me (the feeling was mutual).


It's about Scale

The first thing I learned about spider web construction is that it is modular based on the size of the spider - the larger the spider, the larger the gaps between the threads for the simple fact that the spider must walk on it without getting stuck in its own web.  In fact, the scale of the space between the sticky threads that catch prey is directly proportional to the space from the tip of its back leg to its spinner.

This makes me think of the whole idea of "human scale" in architecture, which of course varies.  Frank Lloyd Wright designed homes for men of smaller stature, such as himself, so that when a taller person such as me walks through a home he designed, I feel like a giant.  The difference is mere inches, but it is noticeable.  Cathedrals were designed in direction opposition to the idea of human scale - they were designed to overwhelm the humans that entered them in order to convey the greatness of their god.  But the spaces where we feel most comfortable are the ones that have been designed down to the detail with our proportions in mind.

Life in and Around a Tree

We sometimes think of trees as solitary objects - lone specimens standing in a field of green.  Or we think of them in clusters of a forest, one indistinguishable from another.  But trees, like everything else, are interconnected and linked with all life around them.  I thought about this when looking at the tree in my backyard yesterday.  What life does this tree support along its vertical axis?  And what relationships do these life forms have with each other?  What can we learn from these connections?

The pride of my backyard - our Norway Maple

Our Norway Maple was planted well over 50 years ago, and is large and established, much like most of the trees in my downtown neighborhood.  This type of tree, however, is considered to be an invasive species because it sends off thousands of little "helicopter" seeds, sometimes a couple times in a season, that create tiny little trees everywhere you look.  Its leaves are also so complete as to shade everything below it and its roots are so dense and shallow such that very little else can grow among them. For these reasons, and the fact that it was planted underneath an elevated power line, I'm not sure it was the best selection that the former land owners could have made, but I love it just the same.  

I love that my house was designed on axis with the tree so that as soon as you walk in my front door, you see the tree centered in the back.  I love that it shades the back part of my yard so completely that you can lie in the grass in 90 degree weather and feel cool.  I love that my daughter's playhouse never sees the sun and is always cool for her to play in.  And I love all the critters it attracts to my garden - even the chipmunks which eat every last strawberry I plant.  Well, maybe not the chipmunks.  What other life does my maple support? 

Let's look a little closer.

Studying a Flower - the Plumeless Thistle

Here is the problem with a novice naturalist walking through a restored prairie and seeing pretty flowers - I assume they all should be there!  It turns out that the pretty pinkish purple flowers I saw on a walk I did way back in July (how summer flew by!) were actually Plumeless Thistle, an invasive weed, and it was everywhere, at least near the walking path I was on.

One invasive species on another - a Japanese beetle on a Plumeless Thistle bud.  From Prairie Flowers in July.

While walking through the prairie on bright July day, I wanted to observe the prairie species mix to see if I would find any patterns.  The main pattern I found was centered around water availability.  The highlands where there was no standing water found home for yellow coneflower, wild carrot, thistle, some milkweed, and turf grass gone to seed.  The lower areas where the creek ran through hosted cattails, grass, a spiky purple plant that looks like salvia, and some strange broadleaf species that seemed like it would be more at home on the forest floor.  Near the paths in higher elevations, I was taken by a pretty purple flower that I found and thought I could learn a little more about it.

Studying the thistle, by Amy.

Learning from Carpenter Ants

Carpenter Ant Colony in a Bounce House

In honor of my biology professor, Adrian Smith, who has devoted his career to studying ants, I chose to learn a little bit about the carpenter ants which until this morning and without my knowledge had built a small colony in my kid's rolled up bounce house.

I have no idea why a colony of carpenter ants would chose to build a satellite community in a rolled up bit of plastic fabric.  It must have been dark and slightly damp and that must have been enough.  It was a poor choice on her behalf.  After the destruction of their nest, the ants were obviously very erratic and grabbed their rice shaped pupae, or egg sacks, and scattered in the grass.  I watched them for a while, trying to determine if they had any idea where they were going, but they just seemed to be running for cover.  Within minutes, each and every egg sack had been picked up and was being carried by an ant in its pincers and within a few minutes, very few pupae were visible.  Ants in general are very good at concealing themselves to avoid predation, so it is difficult to follow ants in grass and see where they go.

Being Present

Photo by Amy Coffman Phillips.  

Have you ever tried to just sit and be still for 25 minutes?  Without thinking about anything in particular?  Or without really moving?  Well, I tried.  And it's hard.  On a recent trip to the Springbrook Prairie Preserve I completed a BPCP iSite where I was to "Sit and Be Here."  Being present is so hard to do, especially for someone so used to multi-tasking.  Sitting still and observing is a form of meditation, and I found it extremely relaxing but also irritating.

It felt relaxing because I was alone, my children were being cared for by our babysitter, and I had the luxury to just sit down and look at a field of green and yellow prairie flowers.  That experience alone made the time worthwhile.  But the multi-tasker in me wanted to be doing something else at the same time - walking or running so that it would count as my exercise for the day; naming the grasses, birds, and bugs I see and remembering the ones I couldn't name; thinking about what I see and practicing my biomimicry translation skills...  I find it almost impossible to turn off the part of my brain that tells me what I am doing now is not as important as what I should or could be doing.

Reading the Sky

Photo by Amy Coffman Phillips

How much of fifth grade science can you remember?  What are the different cloud types called?  My knowledge was tested today on the most gorgeous day we've had in months when I was lucky enough to be at the Morton Arboretum with my friend and our kids.  The children's garden was complete chaos with every child in the five surrounding communities all congregating there for the day, so we decided to climb a little hill and sit and watch the clouds.  I have fond memories of staring at the clouds on a pretty day and trying to guess what shape they were making.  My daughter humored me a bit in between trips running up and down the hill and found a snake that the cirrus clouds created (I thought it looked like a spine).  My friend found a stingray made of puffy cumulus clouds.  And I seemed to find mostly fish of different sizes and shapes, a group of cumulus clouds that looked like airplanes flying low, and one space ship.  A psychologist has probably developed a way to analyze what we see in clouds as some type of Warshak test, but I prefer to leave that at the surface.  

July's Prairie Flowers as Design Inspiration

Today was a beautiful sunny day for a bike ride through the Springbrook Prairie Forest Preserve.  It was hot today.  Very hot.  But the flowers in the prairie were in full bloom, and I was curious about the plants I found there.  What are their names?  Where do they grow and why?  Is there anything we can we learn from them that could influence design?  To try and answer these questions, I took a collection (which doubles as an interesting wildflower arrangement) and have attempted to classify a few of the flowers I picked.  I did a little research on the natural history of each and then have extrapolated a few questions as to how each plant may inspire design.  What questions do you think the plant could help us answer?  

Purple Coneflowers (Echinacea)

Aster (Daisy) family (Asteraceae)

Natural History:  This plant, while native to Illinois, is not that common in native habitats.  In fact, most of the plants that grow in the wild are escaped cultivars or as a result of prairie restoration efforts.  On my ride, there were only small clusters or small groups of individuals but I was determined to collect a few for my daughter, who loves pink flowers.  It has only a faint smell.  The stem is strong and rigid and the seed head is heavy.  The petals are smooth on top, rough on bottom, and damaged with black spots from insect or impact damage.  The top of the flower head is a collection of small spines, which is why it was named after the latin name for "hedgehog."  The spines are packed closely in the Fibonacci spiral formation, which allows for radiating growth.  

Biomimicry Inspiration:  I wonder what a seating arrangement in a restaurant, theater in the round, or other establishment where many people must be placed would look like if we tried to emulate this radiating pattern?  Would its allowance for growth allow the seating arrangement to grow and contract as needed depending on how many people need to be seated?  Would this pattern be relevant to temporary disaster shelter camps as well?  

I fell for this tree

I went for a walk in the Morton Arboretum today, looking at tree bark. Yes, tree bark. For my biomimicry coursework, I have certain prescribed iSite assignments where I go out and observe nature. One of them included looking at tree bark and the differences between different species. This was on my mind after a conversation I had with Dr. Robert Fahey, a forest ecologist on staff at the Arboretum, about tree bark and its (marginal) insulative values. He spoke about Oak forests and how the rough bark fissures that Oak trees present actually create air pockets that help insulate the tree from fire and extreme cold.  It's cork-like texture also traps air pockets, adding insulation.  He was quick to mention that the cell structure of the live phloem has more to do with a tree surviving cold than the dead bark, but it was an intriguing idea for me and I resolved to contact a plant physiologist soon.  Dr. Fahey spoke about the the chemistry of bark and how some species create chemicals in their bark that protect the tree from predators.

Walking the Woods with Kids

2011-06-26 17.06.36, originally uploaded by dgphilli.

I went on a hike with my husband and two young kids through Starved Rock State Park in Northern Illinois this weekend. The park is a series of canyons that were formed when the glaciers melted, forming a series of rock walls, 50' + waterfalls and sand basins from disintegrating sandstone. When I told my 4 year old daughter that we would be going on a hike to a sand mountain that they could climb, she was beyond excited. So excited, in fact, that she was so focused on getting there that she wasn't really able to enjoy the journey to our destination. Not surprising for a little kid.

In between questions of "are we there yet?", I pointed out tangled tree roots that could have been steps up the cliff, tiny shade flowers, butterflies that crossed our path, interesting moss and lichen, and anything else that I thought may interest her. Not so much. Sand mountain, please!

Genius of Place: Lichen in a New England Forest

Lichen are plants and fungus that create a mutualistic relationship greater than the sum of their parts.  What can we learn from them?

Common Greenshield Lichen.  Flavoparmelia Caperata.  Photo by Amy Coffman Phillips

Natural History
How does the lichen fit into this forest?


Walking through the forest for my first iSite in the Harvard Forest, I came upon this beautiful lichen growing on a red maple tree.  Up close, it looks like flattened lettuce or cabbage growing in these romantic formations, an example of a foliose (leaf like) lichen.  And lichen is unique because it is not one organism, but a symbiotic relationship between two organisms:  fungi and algae.  To form a lichen, the fungus either encloses the algae in fungal tissue or penetrates the algal cell wall in order to harness their photosynthetic abilities.  The fungi form the structure and then recruit algae to come live with them, and the algae benefits from the protection the fungi provide as well as their ability to capture water and nutrients.  The mutualistic relationship between these two organisms (although sometimes commensalistic or even parasitic depending on the species) is greater than the sum of its parts because it allows both organisms to survive and thrive in areas they would not be able to alone.  Their relationship creates benefits for the ecosystem as a whole as well because as rain water falls down the bark of a tree, it gathers nutrients from the lichen which feeds nitrogen and other nutrients to the soil, and then by extension, the tree and other plants.  

Vernal Pond

Vernal Pond at Harvard Forest

I am at the Harvard Forest in Petersham, Massachusetts, for my second Biomimicry session in the temperate deciduous forest and today we took a walk in the forest. To say I loved it would be an understatement, but I'm a forest lover. This is a picture of a vernal pond, or a pond that fills in the spring and then drains gradually. The Harvard School of Forestry took a sample core and was able to trace 9,000 years of history in this area from evidence that this Hemlock forest was once a Maple forest to evidence of Native American under story controlled burns. Probably most interestingly, because this is a seasonal pond and fish cannot live in it, there are no natural predators for amphibians such as frogs to lay their eggs here. Oh, and its gorgeous.

Wildflower on the Prairie

wildflower at springbrook prairie, naperville, il

For the final iSite I needed to complete before my next biomimicry trip next week, I went to the Springbrook Prairie Preserve in Naperville, IL.  I love walking through the prairie with my younger son while my daughter is at school, so I had to see what the prairie looks like in the spring.  The prairie is coming alive.  In areas that were burned, the ground is a carpet of green new growth.  In the areas that weren't burned, dead sticks of last year's grass blow in the wind while short green blades and some yellow wildflowers grow up below.  For this last iSite, I was to sketch an object using only shading without lines, and this was pretty difficult.  I did use some lines because I can't every completely follow the rules, but I concentrated on the shading that the small leaves of the flower cast on the others.  I am excited to have completed my iSites and am so looking forward to seeing my fellow cohort members in Boston!

Elevating the Lowly Dandelion

Dandelion Sketch

Today my kids and I were walking around our neighborhood and started picking dandelions.  I picked a bouquet for my daughter, Ellie, and gave my son Jake one that had ripened into a ball of white fuzz.  My one year old son tried to blow the fuzz off of the stem, with a little success because most of it ended up on his lips.  My four year old daughter and I sat down and started picking the yellow dandelions flowers apart.  I had never spent much time actually looking at these ubiquitous wildflowers other than to pull them from my yard, but it was pretty fun to do it with a four year old.

We discovered that when the flowers are in bloom and yellow, they peel apart just as they do when they go to seed.  The flower is actually made of many tiny florets that are yellow at the ends and white and fuzzy underneath.  At the end of each floret is a tiny seed, small and undeveloped, until the dandelion matures into the fuzzy pappus so fun to make a wish and blow on.  The stem of the parachute, called the beak, elongates as the flower matures into the fuzzy pappus, but it is still visible when the flower is yellow as is the fuzzy parachute.  All of the necessary components for life and reproduction are present from the start, though immature.

McDowell Grove Forest Preserve

Fallen Limbs at the Forest Preserve in Spring

I took a walk in the McDowell Grove Forest Preserve by my house today. I had never been to this area before and I'm so glad I visited for the first time in spring. There weren't any real flowers to speak of but the floor was a carpet of green. I know in a few months, I won't be able to walk through the fields like I did today because the grasses and under story brush will be too high.  

There were fallen branches everywhere, creating a natural clearing. I don't know if it is normal for so many branches and trees to lie on the the forest floor or if there was some event that caused the branches to fall. One fallen log had a reddish moss growing on it but the majority did not. I wonder what was different about that log - the age, type of bark, moisture content of the wood? I'm guessing the latter, but I'd love to bring an ecologist to find out next time.

The Pattern of a Tree Limb

Tree Limb Observational Sketch

On a walk through the forest preserve today, I thought about the growth of tree branches.  Seeing so many that had fallen to the ground, I wondered about their structural integrity.  Upon further reflection, I think the downed limbs had more to do with flood damage to the roots than to any defect in the branches themselves.  But, it got me thinking about how a branch grows out from a tree and sends out leaves.

Tree limbs tend to grow and send out leaves and branches in a spiral pattern to maximize exposure to sunlight.    I found areas of the limb where it looked like the limb was going to grow in one direction, but then made a sharp turn.  I am hypothesizing that the initial direction became damaged or did not get as much sunlight as its offshoot branches and was abandoned in favor of the more productive branch.