The destruction of our built environment

Dec11

I am all in favor of change, when change is progress. Often, it is not.

On a recent visit to Cincinnati, I drove through the area I used to call home to have a look around. I lived in an east-side neighborhood called Madisonville, but did most of my shopping up the road in Oakley as Madisonville shopping basically consists of a UDF gas station, a Dollar General, and a Porsche dealership. When I moved, Oakley was in the midst of a “major redevelopment.” I was curious to see how things have changed over the past year.

I discovered that all those months of road construction resulted in a revamped street-scape. It’s nice. There’s some “green space.” Overall, I was underwhelmed. However, on my way out of the neighborhood, I almost caused a traffic accident when I saw this:

That's not a landfill.

I remembered there being an interesting old industrial building here with cool windows, though I didn’t know what the building was used for, or if it was still used at all. It’s definitely not being used now. When I got home, I searched for news of this project and learned that the building once housed a manufacturing plant called Cincinnati Milacron. Interestingly, this company has a deeply embedded history in the city. Founded in 1884, it has been applauded for a “strong tradition of remembering the past (1).”

A strong tradition of remembering the past.

The $120 million demolition and redevelopment of this 74 acre property will result in the creation of 200 new apartments, an office campus, a movie theater, and 350,000 square feet of retail space. The developer referred to the old plant as “underutilized property.”

I could point out plenty of other “underutilized property” in the area. For instance, just down the street is a vacant Circuit City building that went out of business three years ago. Why not use some of that $120 million to find a tenant for this building and improve other deteriorating buildings we already have? This old Milacron building could have been creatively repurposed into lofts, art studios, or a truly unique retail space. I wonder how amazing it would have been to rent an apartment in a refurbished historic building with Cincinnati roots, while also living conveniently close to shopping and public transportation? Why are we always so hell-bent on tearing everything down and starting all over? Are we really so short-sighted, so unimaginative, that we cannot see something beautiful right in front of us?

Some wonderful old subway tile.

The developers of this property are, of course, patting themselves on the back for creating jobs out of this project. And they are. Redevelopment jobs are lovely, but they are also temporary. 350,000 square feet of retail space will certainly create some jobs. Jobs in stores that will no doubt sell cheap crap manufactured in China, and employ people at minimum wage who will hate going to work every day. And they should. Because they are going to be selling crap.

The developers are also touting the fact that their new buildings will be LEED certified, because apparently that makes this horrifying project environmentally friendly. How can people not understand that it is far more environmentally friendly to use what we already have than to tear it all down and start again? The whole time I was photographing the wreckage, I tried desperately to hold my breath. The air was heavy with all the toxic substances released into the neighborhood when they tore this monstrous structure down. How will this affect the cleanup crew that is spending hours among the wreckage, the people who work every day in this neighborhood, the people who are doing their Christmas shopping there right now? As I was photographing, I scolded myself for not being more prepared – why don’t I keep a gas mask in my car for situations like this?

With a little bit of innovative thinking, this “underutilized property” could have been something truly unique that Oakley could have been proud of. Instead, my guess is that it will just be another Kenwood or Rookwood – a mass of ugly, hastily assembled buildings lacking in character, history, and neighborhood identity.

Well done, Cincinnati.

Choose your own adventure

Dec3

Today I went on a little adventure with my camera, exploring some country roads and a tiny little town.

I’ve never really understood people who photograph barns. But apparently I’m turning into one of them. I thought the light was really pretty on this one as the sun was setting.

While I was photographing this old mill, the owner came over and asked me what the hell I was doing. He thought I was trying to steal some of his scrap metal. I told him I just thought this was a really cool old building, and I liked the railroad crossing shadow. He seemed pleased with this, and told me that sometimes he sees a shadow that looks like an angel reading a book, and then he left me alone. As he was walking back in his house, I heard him tell his wife, “She just thinks it’s neat.”

A once-important building

I have absolutely no idea what this sign is referring to, but that’s a church in the background.

No sorrow in thy song / no winter in thy year

Nov28

The reality of living in the country has not quite set in just yet. I’m still deeply infatuated with the lifestyle, and probably somewhat in denial about what it will be like out here this winter. On Thanksgiving, my dad said something about a generator in case I lose power, and my Grandma mentioned that one winter they did not have water for several weeks. I just nodded and pretended to be really interested in something on tv.

I once lost power for a few days after a wind storm, but in the city it really only amounted to a minor inconvenience, and it actually turned out to be a lot of fun. We went to Target and shopped in semi-dark, bought essentials (a bottle of wine and Oreos) and enjoyed the opportunity to see the stars.

Out here, though, in the middle of winter, losing power might prove to be a little more troublesome. But how can I be worried about such things? It’s still warm enough to be comfortable outside without a jacket. It feels nothing like late November. So, instead of stocking my pantry, buying a practical pair of boots, or trading in my little Hyundai for a big old truck, I’ve spent my late fall on more pressing projects. For instance, I drove to Sheep Street three weekends in a row to spin my first two skeins of yarn. I baked my first pumpkin pie. I watched the entire first season of Happy Endings. I read a couple books. I repaired, primed, and painted two rooms and a closet.

BEFORE - Small dormer room used for storage

AFTER - A bright little office. It's a soft green called "Dancing Leaf."

BEFORE - Walls of the bedroom closet after I stripped the wallpaper

AFTER

BEFORE - Bedroom used for storage

AFTER - TV/yoga/reading room

As far as winter goes, I am completely unprepared. But at least I’ll have a tranquil place to practice my yoga when I get snowed in out here.

Bah

Oct30

Last weekend I drove out to Sheep Street, a beautiful Shetland sheep farm in Morgantown, Indiana that sells yarn, spinning wheels, and looms, and also offers a variety of unique classes. In my first class, Shepherding 101, I got to meet the sheep, tour the barn, and talk about the shepherding lifestyle with fiber artist & shepherd Tim Ackerman. Today, my sister and I went back to Sheep Street to begin learning the traditional art of spinning wool.

There are about 100 sheep in the Sheep Street flock.

Step 1: Learning to spin on a hanger

Step 2: Learning to use a drop spindle

One of Sheep Street's Great Pyrenees guard dogs. (He must be off duty).

Sheep Street also boards two alpacas.

To learn more about Sheep Street, click here for a good article or here for their website.

Harvest

Oct27

I don’t want to make anybody jealous or anything, but on Monday night, I spent a couple hours in a combine harvesting corn.

I guess if you grow up on a farm, this is not a big deal, definitely not something worth writing about, but if you didn’t grow up on a farm, and you come home from work one day and a dude offers to let you harvest with him, it’s probably going to be one of your most memorable experiences.

Just to give you an idea of my familiarity with farming equipment, when I was offered this ride, my first question was, “What is a combine?”

This is a combine.

Harvested corn being emptied into a semi for transport.

Even though this land has been in my family for almost 200 years, it has not actually been farmed by my family since the 1950′s. Photos from that era show a lively homestead bustling with cattle, chickens, tractors, and a lone sheep (according to my grandmother, the sheep was a gift from her future father-in-law).

Back in those days, my great grandfather, Louis Ewing, managed a diversified farm that a family could truly live off of. Now, most of the land is rented by a neighboring family, and when I started staying out here this spring, the only thing I could find to eat was a bag of bite-size Milky Ways.

Louis Ewing

Though I am not a farmer myself, I will say this: the homesteader’s lifestyle makes sense to me. I feel like I’ve spent most of my life trying to figure out what it is exactly that I’m supposed to be doing. At the farm, I never have to wonder. For instance, it’s fall, so obviously it’s time to plant garlic bulbs so I can enjoy some amazingly fresh eggplant parmesan and shrimp scampi next year. It’s time to harvest corn and soybeans. It’s time to start leaving a light bulb on for hens so they’ll keep laying through the winter. It’s time for ewes to go into heat. It’s time for my succulents to go into dormancy.

These things make sense to me.

I understand that this way of life would be unbearable to some people. There are those who enjoy living in a city with its noisy entertainment and smog. That’s fine. But there, too, are those of us who just want simplicity, a nice sunset, a porch swing and a good book, and on occasion, an unexpected twilight ride in a combine.

A new chapter

Oct23


I have not abandoned my blog! I have, however, been living in the country, blissfully Internet-free, for about a month. Unfortunately, the deep heart of late October is upon us, and three straight days of dismal rain, cold, and wind quickly convinced me that the time is nigh to purchase a mobile broadband device.

I have been staying on the family farm, 160 acres of land purchased by my ancestors, Patrick and Lydia Ewing, in 1828. The original log cabin Patrick and Lydia built was torn down long ago. Another house, where my Great Great Grandparents lived, has also been demolished. In 1918, my Great Grandparents, Louie and Irene (Applegate) Ewing, built the bungalow that still stands today. Another small house, built in 1910, is used as a rental property.

I grew up in the suburbs close to Indianapolis, enjoyed my early 20′s in idyllic Bloomington, Indiana, and spent a few unfortunate years in Cincinnati, Ohio. I never expected to live at the farm, and I’m not sure how long this adventure will last. I’m trying not to let myself worry over it. I’ve wasted too much of my life planning meticulously for things that didn’t pan out. But, I am cautiously optimistic that I will be able to complete a few projects while I’m out here.

This fall, I’m doing some work on the second floor of the bungalow. The walls are in bad shape, so they require the time-consuming process of layering skim coats of joint compound before they can be primed and painted. Right now I’m working on a small dormer room that was last painted in the 1950′s.

A more urgent project is the clean-up of the rental house, which was recently vacated by a tenant who left the majority of his belongings behind and apparently did not clean the house once over the eight years he lived there.

Questionable liquids left behind by tenant

Pile of trash left by tenant

I’m also experimenting with growing some new succulents. I’ve had great luck with aloe and jade in the past. I also have a large desert rose that seems healthy, but for some reason I’ve never been able to get it to flower. I recently started some new crassulas, a lace aloe, some echeveria and sempervivium, and several species of haworthia. If I can make these little guys last through a winter in the midwest without a greenhouse, I shall consider myself a succulent master.

This weekend, I’m heading out to Sheep Street for Shepherding 101. I have this vague notion that it would be fun to raise sheep, camelids (alpacas and llamas), and possibly some other fiber animals at the farm if I get to stay for awhile.

So far, life in the country seems to suit me.