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Hemp Tough
Bodie Johansson of Handcrafted Log & Timber uses a broad axe and precision strokes to put hand-hewn detail on a sawn log in Ridgway, Colorado.
Blake Gordon
Iron Forge Hemp® canvas is 25% more abrasion resistant than conventional cotton duck canvas.
The durable foundation of our Workwear line, Iron Forge Hemp® canvas pants outlast the toughest jobs and keep you comfortable and protected to boot.
Iron Forge Hemp® Canvas Double Knee Pants
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Industrial hemp requires little to no irrigation to grow.
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Forget Mars. We’ve got work to do here, on Earth.
“Working biodynamic … is the fine relationships between soil, plants, animals and humans.”
Meinklang: Biodynamic Farming in Austria
By Werner Michlits
All photos by Andrew Burr
Meinklang is a biodynamic, family run mixed farm in Austria, set in the middle of the World Heritage Site of the National Park Neusiedlersee. Werner Michlits, one of the stewards of this multigenerational farm, illustrates the biodynamic philosophy of “developing a living farm organism” by focusing on one component—the vine.
Working biodynamic is a philosophy of a holistic and fertile way of farming. It is the fine relationships between soil, plants, animals and humans. We can see how fauna form out of minerals, water, air and light life-substance. Each plant also carries its own being.
[My wife] Angela and I are strongly connected to the vines on our farm. One day, we started looking at the vines from a different perspective. Namely, how they grow in accordance with their own instinct and how they create their aura. The liana vine would like to have a main drive upward; it must grow this strong urge to the light to break away from the heaviness of the earth. That is the same information they give us when we eat grapes or drink juice and wine. But it is too weak to do it alone and needs help.
In the wild, the liana uses trees or bushes to grow toward the sun. In a traditional vineyard, the liana is trimmed like a hedge, which does not correspond to its nature. So, we stopped cutting the vines and let them grow according to their own balance.
It’s not easy to break out of the usual learned environment and force yourself to try new ways. But it is fascinating to see how the plants follow the high order of the rhythm, the circle of the year, the movement of sun, moon and stars. From the winter solstice, the juice-flows of the plants begin to promote vegetative growth; from Midsummer Day, the generative growth begins as the vines concentrate on maturation and creating fruits.
As farmers, we have a responsibility to enter into a sensing relationship with the plants and to understand that sustenance is not only an absorption of food, it is also a way of receiving information—the many small stories of life that are told to us from every plant, herb and fruit.
At Meinklang, farmed by the large Michlits families and an enthusiastic, multicultural team, we are constantly listening to these stories. From the viticulture, cereals and vegetables we grow to the cows, horses, pigs and chickens who enliven the farm and make manure for natural fertilization, everything is connected in harmony.
Photos: (Top) Angela Michlits works with, not against, the vines’ natural growth toward the sun. (Middle Top) Biodynamic farming focuses on and respects “the fine relationships between soil, plants, animals and humans.” (Middle Bottom) The author mends fences while the pigs mend the soil with their natural fertilizer. (Bottom) Werner and Angela Michlits walk with their family on part of Meinklang’s 2,000 hectares, in the deepest point of Austria.
Meinklang: Biodynamic Farming in Austria
Meinklang: Biodynamic Farming in Austria
By Werner Michlits
All photos by Andrew Burr
Meinklang is a biodynamic, family run mixed farm in Austria, set in the middle of the World Heritage Site of the National Park Neusiedlersee. Werner Michlits, one of the stewards of this multigenerational farm, illustrates the biodynamic philosophy of “developing a living farm organism” by focusing on one component—the vine.
Working biodynamic is a philosophy of a holistic and fertile way of farming. It is the fine relationships between soil, plants, animals and humans. We can see how fauna form out of minerals, water, air and light life-substance. Each plant also carries its own being.
[My wife] Angela and I are strongly connected to the vines on our farm. One day, we started looking at the vines from a different perspective. Namely, how they grow in accordance with their own instinct and how they create their aura. The liana vine would like to have a main drive upward; it must grow this strong urge to the light to break away from the heaviness of the earth. That is the same information they give us when we eat grapes or drink juice and wine. But it is too weak to do it alone and needs help.
In the wild, the liana uses trees or bushes to grow toward the sun. In a traditional vineyard, the liana is trimmed like a hedge, which does not correspond to its nature. So, we stopped cutting the vines and let them grow according to their own balance.
It’s not easy to break out of the usual learned environment and force yourself to try new ways. But it is fascinating to see how the plants follow the high order of the rhythm, the circle of the year, the movement of sun, moon and stars. From the winter solstice, the juice-flows of the plants begin to promote vegetative growth; from Midsummer Day, the generative growth begins as the vines concentrate on maturation and creating fruits.
As farmers, we have a responsibility to enter into a sensing relationship with the plants and to understand that sustenance is not only an absorption of food, it is also a way of receiving information—the many small stories of life that are told to us from every plant, herb and fruit.
At Meinklang, farmed by the large Michlits families and an enthusiastic, multicultural team, we are constantly listening to these stories. From the viticulture, cereals and vegetables we grow to the cows, horses, pigs and chickens who enliven the farm and make manure for natural fertilization, everything is connected in harmony.
Photos: (Top) Angela Michlits works with, not against, the vines’ natural growth toward the sun. (Middle Top) Biodynamic farming focuses on and respects “the fine relationships between soil, plants, animals and humans.” (Middle Bottom) The author mends fences while the pigs mend the soil with their natural fertilizer. (Bottom) Werner and Angela Michlits walk with their family on part of Meinklang’s 2,000 hectares, in the deepest point of Austria.
The Straw Bale Home: The Future of Building Is Waste
By Lauren DeLaunay Miller
All photos by Forest Woodward
What if we could turn our trash into something useful, something that would repurpose what we already have and cut down on the number of petroleum-based products we need to create? What if we could use that waste to build our homes?
Straw, like adobe, has been used for construction for thousands of years. The invention of mechanical straw balers in the late 1800s made bales available for mass production, but before straw-bale building could catch on, at scale, it was quickly surpassed by more “advanced” construction methods.
In California, hot days and cool nights make for excellent growing conditions for the Sacramento Valley’s 500,000 acres of rice crops, and when that rice is harvested, millions of tons of straw are left over. Straw doesn’t have a lot of utility: It’s too low in nutrition to be used as animal feed, and for a long time, farmers burned it or mixed it back into their fields. After the burning of rice straw was outlawed in California in 1991, farmers started baling it and looking for ways to market this biomass byproduct.
Around this time, as the environmental effects of carbon emissions came into clearer focus, homebuilders and buyers became increasingly interested in natural materials. As it turns out, natural building isn’t just better for the climate, it’s a better way to build. Straw bales are incredibly insulating, which saves energy—and money—on heating and cooling the home. They’re also more flame-resistant than conventional materials and, if they do burn, emit fewer toxic fumes into the air.
In addition to creating another income stream for rice farmers and reducing reliance on fiberglass insulation, straw bales also put waste to use and store carbon that the rice pulled out of the atmosphere while it was growing. As Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard says, “It’s a win-win-win deal.”
Modern straw-bale building brings challenges, too, and requires a whole new way of thinking. “Instead of cutting bales to fit the design,” says Bud Miller, a general contractor from Bishop, California, “you need to design the home around the bales.” Straw-bale building means prioritizing a part of the process that isn’t typically front of mind for architects. The bales are highly insulative, but they’re also two-feet wide, which means that to have the same useable square footage, the footprint of the house needs to be significantly larger.
Building homes with bales of rice straw isn’t easy—nor will it, alone, solve the climate crisis. But what’s perhaps most promising about straw-bale building is the spirit: Let’s learn from the past, let’s use what we have, and let’s find a way to make our homes and communities better—for us and the planet.
Photos: (Top) Brooke Maushund, KC Ellingford and crew offload the truck and stack the bales at the build site in Swall Meadows, California. (Middle Top) Ron Kampschmidt walks the straw bale storage area on his farm. K&R Farming, Willows, California. (Middle Bottom) Straw bale building ladders up to using less carbon than traditional construction methods. Alex Garcia on the job in Swall Meadows, California. (Bottom) Aside from a few unique tools and a little extra square footage to accommodate the bales, straw bale building tools and techniques are similar to those of conventional building.
The Straw Bale Home: The Future of Building Is Waste
The Straw Bale Home: The Future of Building Is Waste
By Lauren DeLaunay Miller
All photos by Forest Woodward
What if we could turn our trash into something useful, something that would repurpose what we already have and cut down on the number of petroleum-based products we need to create? What if we could use that waste to build our homes?
Straw, like adobe, has been used for construction for thousands of years. The invention of mechanical straw balers in the late 1800s made bales available for mass production, but before straw-bale building could catch on, at scale, it was quickly surpassed by more “advanced” construction methods.
In California, hot days and cool nights make for excellent growing conditions for the Sacramento Valley’s 500,000 acres of rice crops, and when that rice is harvested, millions of tons of straw are left over. Straw doesn’t have a lot of utility: It’s too low in nutrition to be used as animal feed, and for a long time, farmers burned it or mixed it back into their fields. After the burning of rice straw was outlawed in California in 1991, farmers started baling it and looking for ways to market this biomass byproduct.
Around this time, as the environmental effects of carbon emissions came into clearer focus, homebuilders and buyers became increasingly interested in natural materials. As it turns out, natural building isn’t just better for the climate, it’s a better way to build. Straw bales are incredibly insulating, which saves energy—and money—on heating and cooling the home. They’re also more flame-resistant than conventional materials and, if they do burn, emit fewer toxic fumes into the air.
In addition to creating another income stream for rice farmers and reducing reliance on fiberglass insulation, straw bales also put waste to use and store carbon that the rice pulled out of the atmosphere while it was growing. As Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard says, “It’s a win-win-win deal.”
Modern straw-bale building brings challenges, too, and requires a whole new way of thinking. “Instead of cutting bales to fit the design,” says Bud Miller, a general contractor from Bishop, California, “you need to design the home around the bales.” Straw-bale building means prioritizing a part of the process that isn’t typically front of mind for architects. The bales are highly insulative, but they’re also two-feet wide, which means that to have the same useable square footage, the footprint of the house needs to be significantly larger.
Building homes with bales of rice straw isn’t easy—nor will it, alone, solve the climate crisis. But what’s perhaps most promising about straw-bale building is the spirit: Let’s learn from the past, let’s use what we have, and let’s find a way to make our homes and communities better—for us and the planet.
Photos: (Top) Brooke Maushund, KC Ellingford and crew offload the truck and stack the bales at the build site in Swall Meadows, California. (Middle Top) Ron Kampschmidt walks the straw bale storage area on his farm. K&R Farming, Willows, California. (Middle Bottom) Straw bale building ladders up to using less carbon than traditional construction methods. Alex Garcia on the job in Swall Meadows, California. (Bottom) Aside from a few unique tools and a little extra square footage to accommodate the bales, straw bale building tools and techniques are similar to those of conventional building.