Check out the news here about the new law San Francisco has passed mandating composting.

As promised on our kickstarter.com fundraising site, those who donated $59 and up have the privilege of having a plant in our traveling garden named after them.  We are grateful for your donations and support, and we hope these plants do you justice!

Tess Nelson = Lavender

A sweet and complex herb, this thriving lavender plant brings a refreshing scent to our bus.

Dan Nelson = Sage

A little-used herb, perhaps an acquired taste, sage can bring a wonderful aspect to pasta and meat dishes, and if burned, has clarifying properties and an amazing aroma.

Bill Bennett = Hot Pepper

This spicy little pepper adds some vital heat to our dishes- but you have to be careful with it!

Elizabeth Schoyer = Cherry tomato

These little beauties are thriving on the rooftop garden and just starting to ripen.

Ken Bauman = Oregano

This perennial Italian herb provides vital flavor for sauces, breads, and crusts.

Alex Arango = eggplant

This beautifully-hued fruit is versatile and full of great vitamins- puree it into a dip with tomatoes and onions, cover it with cheese and bake it, or sautee it with pine nuts and olive oil.  Mmm.

Brie = Malabar spinach

A tropical vine, this green is a source of nutrients late into the summer:  it doesn’t bolt like spring lettuces and spinach does.

Will Russel = Rosemary

A perennial herb that can grow to great proportions, rosemary is pretty much great with everything, but especially in breads, meats, and, used minimally, can add complexity to  sweet desserts.

Stefin Pasternak = Basil

Arguably our most prolific crop, the basil is thriving on the rooftop garden, and trying to flower every time we climb up!

Nancy Lee Evans = Marigold

This flowering plant is vital to attracting pollinators to our rooftop garden, and its cheery golden blooms are a joy to behold.

Julia = Rainbow Chard

This delectable and nutritious green provides us with fresh salads, and its dark-red veins provide a lovely contrasting color in the rooftop garden.

After 4 days in Muskego, WI, dealing with 2 sick bodies and 1 sick bus, we are finally on the road to Chicago.  Some kind of summer flu swept through my family, with 6 out of 9 of us getting sick, but luckily it wasn’t a long illness, and most of us are back to our spunky selves.

The bus trouble seems to be fixed- for now at least- though these things are harder to diagnose than the flu.   At first we thought we just needed new batteries- they were draining really fast and the bus wasn’t getting enough juice to start- but after testing they turned out to be fine.  With a lot of advice, we ended up replacing the diesel fuel filter (which was a wild goose chase trying to find), and it seems to have helped the start some.  For now, though, we’re carrying a battery charger and parking near electrical sources.

We’re excited for Sidney to see her first BIG city.  Well, Milwaukee is pretty big, but we didn’t take her downtown really, more just in the outer city.  In Chicago, we’ll be staying in Hyde Park with Jessie, a U.Chicago student and a lifelong friend of mine.   We’re looking forward to large crowds of tourists on Segways, flocking to the bus like so many bruce bogtrotters to a large chocolate cake.  Mmm.

Unfortunately, due to these unforeseen problems, we may be yet again cutting a destination or two off the trip.  I hope to be in Charlottesville a week from today to prepare for classes- wish us luck!

Some sort of insidious air-borne illness has the Nourish(meant) team down for the count. Luckily, we are recuperating in the company of family and in the comfort of a home-home (not a bus-home) in Muskego, WI. With plenty of sleep and OJ, we will be on the road soon to Chicago, just slightly behind schedule.

Check out a new article posted in our world section written by Doug Fine.  It’s humorous and pointed.  You can access it by clicking on the world button in our catagories section on the right hand side of the page, or by clicking here. Enjoy!

The truth of the matter is that in the world of fossil fuels, we don’t know what we’re dealing with.  As the vast majority of the worldwide scientific community tells us, we lack real consciousness about the long term effects of burning fossil fuels, greenhouse gas emissions, and global climate change.  Visit www.350.org for more information on this subject, and to get involved in the global day for climate action.

On another level though, we simply don’t know our fuel – that oily liquid that we pump into our vehicles day in and day out.  If we did know, on a down and dirty, personal basis, we would have infinitely greater respect for it and our use of it.  Instead, we disassociate from our fuel, keeping it hidden away in closed containers.  We pump it into hidden tanks underneath our car, tanks we never even see unless we do mechanic work.  Interestingly enough, this relationship we have developed with our fuel is quite similar to the relationship we have built with our food.  Most of our food is grown, processed, and distributed away from our eyes and hands.  We don’t wish to deal with the dirtier aspects of blood and byproducts.  We would rather keep that stuff at a distance.  As a result, our respect for our food reflects the same respect we have for our fuel.  If our society truly knew its food and its fuel, we can’t imagine that it would look the same as it does today.

Touring with the Nourish(meant) bus, we have come to intimately know our fuel.  It’s gross, it’s always weighing down the bus, it gets everywhere, and it gets US everywhere.  We have developed a love-hate relationship with it.  On the one hand, the oil we use is not directly connected to so much of the terrible exploitation and conflict in the world (e.g. Nigeria and US-Middle East relations).  It makes us significantly more self-reliant than most combustion-engine users.  It has saved us hundreds of dollars on this trip.  Most importantly though, it has connected us with amazing people and inspired beautiful conversations.

On the other hand, we just don’t like the oil.  It gets onto everything, from our clothes to our faces to our bikes.  It is sticky and hard to get off.  It smells bad.  It’s a ton of work to filter and pump.  Thinking about it though, we have realized that diesel and gas are even more disgusting to deal with, and there’s something great in the fact that we know our oil, while we are dissociated from the diesel we consume.

A particular point to relate is the work that goes into finding and processing oil.  It’s immense.  First we have to call around to find restaurants that are interested in donating (this is where established relationships in a community make working with veggie oil WAY easier).  Then we have to make sure the oil is suitable.  Some of the stuff we have encountered is positively foul- chunks of lard, maggots, and a distinct smell of vomit top the list.  Then we must pump it into our containers.  Then we dewater it, which can take several days if it’s humid.  Then we have to pump it into a sock filter to get the particulate matter out.  Then we have to pump it up to two more times.  Either directly into a tank, or back into a storage tank to be pumped to the tank at a later time.  Every time we do this, we have to suit up in our oil clothes, get oil all over ourselves, and expend the energy to hand pump the oil.
(It is important to note that filtering oil while working from a home base can be made exponentially simpler by using the settling method for filtration.  You can find tons of information about it online.)

All of this work, in addition to the many hours we have spent in direct contact with our fuel has made us deeply aware of the energy and value stored in our fuel.  What our fuel does for us – move us at incredible speeds across the landscape – is truly amazing.  The amount of energy stored in our oil is incredible.  Then, when we think even deeper and more connected, we think about the plants that all worked to produce the oil that we use.  From Ohio through Michigan to Wisconsin, we have seen fields upon fields of corn and soy- their green leaves waving at us, reminding us of where our fuel comes from.  We are talking millions of plants.  Millions.  How many billions of seeds – each a potential plant – pressed into oil?  We use plants in untold numbers whose sole purpose in life has been processed down to first, cooking food for someone, and second, providing us with fuel.  It humbles us.  It engenders deep and abiding respect.  It makes us want to drive less, to bike more, to use our bodies, our own energy more often.  The close relationship we have with our fuel, in all its ugly magic, forces us to respect it.  This is beautiful.

These thoughts we have had about fuel are thoughts we easily extend to food.  They make us think about the relationships between things, about energy and where it comes from in its many sources.  They make us think about community.  From them we have developed one of the principles of Nourish(meant): By entering into relationship with our “resources,” they stop being resources and become members of our community, demanding the respect and awareness they deserve.

Traveling has a way of helping a person get into the flow of things.  Many people have written, or conversed about this – in fact, I would wager a bet that every traveler has experienced it at one point or another.  There is something about escaping your comfortable, daily routine that opens you to grander possibility.  It’s also in the people.  As a traveler, you throw yourself open to the world of people out there – people in their generosity, fierceness, beauty, and unending perspectives.

My spirit father, Michael, taught me about synchronicity.  Synchronicity is the word given by Carl Jung to those coincidences, those confluences of the universe, that are just too magical to be made of chance alone.  When we start to see the synchronicities around us, the world unfolds in inherent intelligence and threads of beauty connect everything.  The spirit of traveling seems to attract synchronicity, or at least an awareness of it.

The people of North Canton are good people.  We spend our last few days in town in great company and great fun.  The only worry we had while there was finding oil; it was like a new kind of digging for oil, and just as difficult.  We tried the factories – potato chip and peanut butter – to no avail.  We then called restaurants.  Many hung up on us; a few were quite nice, but ultimately had no oil.  Out of the dozens we called only one restaurant, a Japanese steakhouse called Wasabi, offered us oil.  As might be imagined, this proved somewhat discouraging to us, but we didn’t let it get to us too much.  We decided to leave Canton Saturday- with or without oil.  If we left without oil, we would find it on the way.

Aside from our challenges, we had a great time.  One of our host’s (Ed) brothers, Rob, was in a Neo-Futurist play taking place locally at the Second April Gallery.  They suggested we go speak with the owners about setting the bus up in front of the gallery and cooking food for after the play.  After inspecting one of the most disgusting oil dumpsters we have ever seen at a local hospital, we traveled to Second April.  It turned out the owners were uncomfortable with us setting up outside due to restrictions on the play rights.  Not wanting to leave us with nowhere to go, they suggested that we go to the farmers market the next day and gave us the number of the woman who organizes it.  We called her as we drove home and she was so enthused about the project that we decided we would go, even though we had made plans to leave town early the following morning.  We followed the good omens of people wanting our presence.

The play turned out fantastic.  Afterwards, we invited several members of the cast and audience to join us on the bus for tea and popcorn.  A lively conversation ensued about our travels and what truly nourishes.  One of the more powerful topics that came up is how crying can be deeply nourishing – that nourishment includes a full range of human emotions.

Returning home, our hosts had invited a crew over after playing broomball.  We showed the bus off and then cooked a turmeric-garlic curry with chicken.  By then, the evening hours had escaped and it was near midnight.  Derek, one of our hosts, had expressed interest in dumpster diving a few days prior, and we had decided that this night would be the night.  Rob and Nadia, another of the play’s cast, were also interested.  Around 1am, we departed.

We sought both food and veggie oil.  Food was first on our list.   Dumpstering for food is best done at small to medium sized independent food stores.  Stores that stock a significant amount of produce are ideal, as fresh produce is something that is constantly going “bad” (meaning unfit to sell, but plenty good to eat).  We tried several likely candidates, but were disappointed to find that every market we explored had a compactor dumpster, which is nearly impossible for the dumpster hunter to access.  After trying markets, we moved on to bakeries.  On our first attempt – at Panera – the police showed up.  Our conversation went a little like this:

Police (through megaphone) – “What are you doing?”
We turn around and walk toward the car.
Police – “Just get out of here.”
Me – “Sir, we are…”
Police – “I don’t even want to here it.  Just get out of here.  Don’t let me see you around here again.”

So they left and we left.  I felt a little bad for the neophyte dumpster divers.  This was not a good introduction.  I explained to them how if you find the right places, dumpstering attains the magic of a treasure hunt.  I explained that it’s some of the most fun I have on a regular basis.  Not tonight though.

We decided to try one more spot – an artesian bakery in the next county over, where the police would perhaps be a little more friendly.  We drove there, found a out-of-sight place to park, and located the dumpster.  It was unlocked, which was good news.  Everything inside was in bags, which meant no puddles of sludge on the floor.  I decided to jump in and see what we could find.  Feeling the bags, one by one, I eventually located the characteristic firm lumps that meant we have found bread.  Tearing open the bag, we found 5 rounds and 2 baguettes in beautiful condition.  There were some cookies and a few more baguettes, but they were questionable.  When in doubt, throw it out. Or in this case, leave it in.  We left with a decent haul nonetheless.  More importantly though, we had established a dumpster in the area worthy of dumpstering.  It was a cornucopia that would go on feeding these new friends as long as they returned to it with care and sufficient caution.  Such is the beauty of dumpstering – once you establish a good spot, and if necessary, a schedule, the guesswork is minimized.  A dumpster – something vile and disregarded by most Americans – suddenly becomes a magical source of adventure, fun, food, and if chosen, community. This last quality surfaces because the food found in a dumpster is usually in large quantity, and is best utilized when shared.  A dumpster haul can easily become a feast around which ones community gathers.  For all of these reasons, a dumpster, seem from the right perspective, is deeply nourishing.

At this point – around 3 AM – Derek and I were feeling exhausted.  We decided that we needed to shift gears and look for oil.  We made the trek out to Wasabi, who said that we could have their oil, but found their dumpster empty.  It was time go home.  As we approached Derek’s home, now at around 4 AM, I thought once more about heading out to look for oil.  We were waking to go to the farmers market in 3 hours, but I just couldn’t understand what we were going to do without oil in the tank?  I was especially confused because I had prayed that the oil would be found with ease, but it simply wasn’t there.  I realized though, that there was no way to dewater and filter any oil that was found that night in time to drive on it tomorrow.  It looked like we were supposed to leave Canton without oil.  I trusted that we would be fine.  Maybe we would find oil as we drove.  If we were destined to buy and run on diesel, so be it.  Though I felt some disappointment, I trusted that everything what in place, and that my prayers would be answered, though I did not know how, when, or in what way.  And with that, confused, exhausted, and still somewhat disappointed, though happy for few loaves of bread found in good company, I went to sleep.

Check back for the rest of the story, to be posted soon…

Check out this article written about Nourish(meant) in The Repository, North Canton’s newspaper.  Our friend Jack told a reporter about the bus and they came to interview us that day!

We wrote a post yesterday, but it apparently did not publish.  We will try to make a short recap, as a result.

We arrived in Wisconsin several days ago, and since then have enjoyed the company of Emily’s family, including her three young cousins – Mandy and Shelly, age 9, and Krystal, age 8.  Much good food has been shared, including hand pitted cherry pies, more sourdough pancakes, and kababs made from many a gifted vegetable.

Over the course of today and the next few days, look forward to several in depth posts regarding recent adventures, lessons learned and the magic gathered and shared by living in trust.

We drove into Ohio late at night, after many long and winding West Virginia roads.  After three and a half hours of driving, we pulled into the Tappan Lakes region, which had been recommended to us by our Canton, OH hosts-to-be as a good place to bed down for the night.  The next morning, we awoke beside a lake overflowing with water lilies, all in yellow bloom.  After a leisurely morning by the water, we completed our drive to Canton, to be beset by an incredible downpour that left a standing sheet of water on the road.

Downpour passed, we arrived in Canton in the afternoon.  Through friends at Uva, we had been in contact with Ed Lewis, who generously offered us his place to park the bus and spend some time in his welcoming home.  After a quick visit to the Amish store and just one bout of getting lost, we pulled into Ed’s driveway and met his wonderfully sweet grandparents- meeting Ed soon thereafter.  We spent the evening showing the bus and garden to a constant stream of friendly visitors, and cooked a meal for about 12 Ohioans:  black bean and sausage burgers, spring rolls, and corn bread.  From our garden, the meal featured rosemary, thyme, chives, radishes, asian eggplant, tons of basil, lettuce, chard, and a hungarian pepper. Interesting and beautiful conversations flowed all night over the food; we met a master gardener, a tech guru, a sailor, an actor– basically, a whole host of amazing people.

We’re spending the next couple of days in Canton, searching for some WVO to collect (Frito Lay?  Please?), applying for entry to an art show, and continuing to get to know this wonderful community!

Thank you thank you to our wonderful hosts!