I've had an unanswered question for many years, related to soil health, inspired by Thoreau's comment that the trees take nutrients from the soil and then return with interest when they drop their leaves. The question is this:
If the earth is a battery, storing solar energy through plants in the form of chemical bonds, is the earth charging or discharging? Do our actions, generally but specifically with regards to soil health and agriculture, affect the charge of the earth? Can we deplete the earth's chemical charge, and is that a way to describe soil health? One of the goals of composting is to fill the soil with packets of chemical potential energy in the form of nitrogen compounds.
I'm sure I'm not the first to ask the question, but I haven't seen it, yet. But, I'm quasi-illiterate, so I've likely just not read it, yet.
This is so fascinating. People do talk about soil somewhat in these terms (the things I've read are mostly about its carbon capture capacity, so mostly very new stuff), but I don't think I've seen it phrased in these terms.
It seems like Earth is a fairly self-contained system, but we can lose charge and/or radiation through the atmosphere?
Though I guess the concept of "charge" with regards to energy makes me think of batteries and positive/negative ends. Earth isn't quite like, that, is it? It's always plugged in, in a way.
Thank you for sharing these thoughts. Gives me a lot to think about!
Scientists have looked into the radiative energy part, and determined that the way the sun's rays are absorbed by the earth, and then radiated out in the form of infrared light, maintains equilibrium somehow. It's amazing that a rock flying around in space getting constantly heated somehow doesn't just eventually burn up.
However, processes like photosynthesis use the sun's rays to rearrange chemicals, which increases their potential energy. "Spent" chemicals (CO2) are rearranged into "charged" chemicals (sugars and starches), which also feed other processes like nitrogen fixation. It's like little chemical springs are getting wound up, and when we- or other animals, or fungi- consume them, those springs power us and we exhale the sprung exhaust, generally CO2. It's closed in that no matter is added or removed, but the energy from the sun activates processes that rearrange that matter from inert, powerless shapes into chemicals that can do something. Like keep us alive. Springs are a mechanical metaphor for a chemical process, but hopefully it helps illustrate.
We could say that healthy soils have the capacity to stay "springy", and unhealthy soils do not. They have lost the matter through erosion, or the recharging mechanisms through sterilization. They have no charge. Revitalizing soil builds its charge capacity, and its recharging mechanisms.
So, back to Thoreau: Does leaf litter truly "return with interest" the nutrients of the soil? Let's say I buy manure from a feed lot or compost from the garden store and use it in my garden. The garden is happy, but on a global scale are we able to compost as much chemical energy into the soil as we draw out of it through agriculture, or are we overdrawing the charge?
That is a very clear explanation, thank you! And it's a really interesting question. I keep thinking about the scene in Robert Powers's novel "The Overstory," where the character who becomes a scientist weighs the soil in the pot where she's grown a tree for many years. The soil weighs exactly the same, meaning that the tree, which has grown significantly, hasn't "taken" anything from it. What does that mean? Has it managed to create all its growth from the air? (I don't think this is ever explained, if I remember, but maybe it is in the new book "The Mother Tree," written by the scientist that particular character is based on).
It would seem like the leaves that fall onto the ground in my yard, and that are then drawn down by worms to decompose into soil, might return with interest. But purchased manure and compost I'm not sure. This is something I struggled with earlier in the summer, what it means to purchase soil. That soil is extracted and/or made somewhere, so even if it adds to my garden it's taking from somewhere else. How that balances out on a global scale I'm not sure. I feel like we must lose something, just in the creation and transport of the soil (and the plastic bag it's packaged in) and all the nutrients that are added to it.
This is way beyond my knowledge area but I'd love to learn more! I feel like there would be some chemical unraveling over time, even if on a small scale that aggregates the more soil we transport around, but that feeling is based on absolutely no scientific knowledge and is probably inaccurate.
I love the compost. I love that the bits of the food and cardboard and (some types of) paper that I don't use will all get to know each other in the weird little pallet board walls section of our backyard. Eventually, it will all go to feed the hydrangeas that line the south part of the yard, next to the neighbor's little salad garden along the north side of their yard. I love that the compost helps reduce our waste and that I only have to put the trash can out by the curb once every 6 or 7 weeks or so. I love every week or so when we will load up the big bucket of compostables and trek out to the back to mix in the slop with the brown, and I love that the bucket o' future-compost is covered in the oddest mix of bumper stickers.
I continue to love how you use quotes from scifi as epigraphs, which is something more people should do, yet they don't, which makes me think there's a quiet pressure not to do it from the "serious" side of literature. Sounds like a rebellion is needed. And you're on the front lines here.
This is a fleeting comment because I'm on my phone and my thumbs are already cold, but - THANK YOU for the link to the Aeon "End of Night" essay. I am writing something that will touch on light pollution, and this is a perfect and beautiful fit for my research. You <--> A Treasure.
I'm so glad! Boyle is a wonderful science writer, and that was the first piece I read about night and light pollution and sleep. Jane Brox's book "Brilliant: A History of Artificial Light" is on the same subject and an absolutely beautiful read. Can't wait to read what you shape around this subject!
The sci fi quotes are definitely intentional, and you're right about the divide and quiet pressure there. When I was in graduate school in creative writing, we were explicitly not allowed to write "genre fiction." Why? Because, you know, it's not "real writing." Or something. It's pissed me off ever since!
"A Soiled Life" would be a good title for your next book!
That could take on so many meanings 😂
I've had an unanswered question for many years, related to soil health, inspired by Thoreau's comment that the trees take nutrients from the soil and then return with interest when they drop their leaves. The question is this:
If the earth is a battery, storing solar energy through plants in the form of chemical bonds, is the earth charging or discharging? Do our actions, generally but specifically with regards to soil health and agriculture, affect the charge of the earth? Can we deplete the earth's chemical charge, and is that a way to describe soil health? One of the goals of composting is to fill the soil with packets of chemical potential energy in the form of nitrogen compounds.
I'm sure I'm not the first to ask the question, but I haven't seen it, yet. But, I'm quasi-illiterate, so I've likely just not read it, yet.
This is so fascinating. People do talk about soil somewhat in these terms (the things I've read are mostly about its carbon capture capacity, so mostly very new stuff), but I don't think I've seen it phrased in these terms.
It seems like Earth is a fairly self-contained system, but we can lose charge and/or radiation through the atmosphere?
Though I guess the concept of "charge" with regards to energy makes me think of batteries and positive/negative ends. Earth isn't quite like, that, is it? It's always plugged in, in a way.
Thank you for sharing these thoughts. Gives me a lot to think about!
Scientists have looked into the radiative energy part, and determined that the way the sun's rays are absorbed by the earth, and then radiated out in the form of infrared light, maintains equilibrium somehow. It's amazing that a rock flying around in space getting constantly heated somehow doesn't just eventually burn up.
However, processes like photosynthesis use the sun's rays to rearrange chemicals, which increases their potential energy. "Spent" chemicals (CO2) are rearranged into "charged" chemicals (sugars and starches), which also feed other processes like nitrogen fixation. It's like little chemical springs are getting wound up, and when we- or other animals, or fungi- consume them, those springs power us and we exhale the sprung exhaust, generally CO2. It's closed in that no matter is added or removed, but the energy from the sun activates processes that rearrange that matter from inert, powerless shapes into chemicals that can do something. Like keep us alive. Springs are a mechanical metaphor for a chemical process, but hopefully it helps illustrate.
We could say that healthy soils have the capacity to stay "springy", and unhealthy soils do not. They have lost the matter through erosion, or the recharging mechanisms through sterilization. They have no charge. Revitalizing soil builds its charge capacity, and its recharging mechanisms.
So, back to Thoreau: Does leaf litter truly "return with interest" the nutrients of the soil? Let's say I buy manure from a feed lot or compost from the garden store and use it in my garden. The garden is happy, but on a global scale are we able to compost as much chemical energy into the soil as we draw out of it through agriculture, or are we overdrawing the charge?
That is a very clear explanation, thank you! And it's a really interesting question. I keep thinking about the scene in Robert Powers's novel "The Overstory," where the character who becomes a scientist weighs the soil in the pot where she's grown a tree for many years. The soil weighs exactly the same, meaning that the tree, which has grown significantly, hasn't "taken" anything from it. What does that mean? Has it managed to create all its growth from the air? (I don't think this is ever explained, if I remember, but maybe it is in the new book "The Mother Tree," written by the scientist that particular character is based on).
It would seem like the leaves that fall onto the ground in my yard, and that are then drawn down by worms to decompose into soil, might return with interest. But purchased manure and compost I'm not sure. This is something I struggled with earlier in the summer, what it means to purchase soil. That soil is extracted and/or made somewhere, so even if it adds to my garden it's taking from somewhere else. How that balances out on a global scale I'm not sure. I feel like we must lose something, just in the creation and transport of the soil (and the plastic bag it's packaged in) and all the nutrients that are added to it.
This is way beyond my knowledge area but I'd love to learn more! I feel like there would be some chemical unraveling over time, even if on a small scale that aggregates the more soil we transport around, but that feeling is based on absolutely no scientific knowledge and is probably inaccurate.
I love the compost. I love that the bits of the food and cardboard and (some types of) paper that I don't use will all get to know each other in the weird little pallet board walls section of our backyard. Eventually, it will all go to feed the hydrangeas that line the south part of the yard, next to the neighbor's little salad garden along the north side of their yard. I love that the compost helps reduce our waste and that I only have to put the trash can out by the curb once every 6 or 7 weeks or so. I love every week or so when we will load up the big bucket of compostables and trek out to the back to mix in the slop with the brown, and I love that the bucket o' future-compost is covered in the oddest mix of bumper stickers.
I love this description and its scramble (!) through the richness of a compost heap. Bumper stickers!
I continue to love how you use quotes from scifi as epigraphs, which is something more people should do, yet they don't, which makes me think there's a quiet pressure not to do it from the "serious" side of literature. Sounds like a rebellion is needed. And you're on the front lines here.
This is a fleeting comment because I'm on my phone and my thumbs are already cold, but - THANK YOU for the link to the Aeon "End of Night" essay. I am writing something that will touch on light pollution, and this is a perfect and beautiful fit for my research. You <--> A Treasure.
I'm so glad! Boyle is a wonderful science writer, and that was the first piece I read about night and light pollution and sleep. Jane Brox's book "Brilliant: A History of Artificial Light" is on the same subject and an absolutely beautiful read. Can't wait to read what you shape around this subject!
The sci fi quotes are definitely intentional, and you're right about the divide and quiet pressure there. When I was in graduate school in creative writing, we were explicitly not allowed to write "genre fiction." Why? Because, you know, it's not "real writing." Or something. It's pissed me off ever since!