“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.”
― Margaret Atwood

I can feel the momentum of spring picking up —and because my 2 year old is obsessed with trains, the only metaphor I can think of that I feel like the little engine that could. The start of the season chugs along uphill, with seed orders trickling in, tidying my seeds, scoping out the garden, drawing out my garden layout. Finally, after a seemingly long slog, the hill is crested. The downhill begins. I start a tray of seeds. Then a couple more. Then 30 tomato varieties. Then the thinning, the watering/dilute fertilizing, the lighting adjustments, the direct sowing, the potting up, the hardening off. From here on out until the last frost date, we’ll be picking up steam until everything is planted out. Then comes the pruning, the training, the weeding, the harvesting. Hmm maybe a better metaphor would have been a roller coaster, but I think the point stands.

Either way, it can still feel overwhelming, even as I’m in my tenth year of gardening. I always tell people that gardening is one of those hobbies that, like Einstein said, the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don’t know. Sure, I’m fairly confident starting seeds now and have a good grasp on what has to happen and when in the garden, but nature loves to throw curveballs our way, and keep us on our toes. We can never truly be certain, which is one of the reasons why I find farming to be so fascinating. Having your livelihood inextricably linked to the environment, especially in these uncertain climate times? Scary, but for all of humanity, necessary.

Occasionally, I worry that some of my writing could be misconstrued as sanctimonious, or coming off as holier-than-thou. Sustainability, environmentalism, botany, horticulture, the food system, native plants, organic gardening —these subjects can have an air of elitism about them sometimes, but I find all of them so fascinating and especially love learning new things to improve on, or do differently. And when I discover stuff like that, it’s deeply ingrained in my nature to share with others. I have an insatiable curiosity about the natural world and I love to yap —a dangerous combination for small talk, but thankfully the written word is a good avenue to digitally have a chinwag.

And today, I’m feeling in the mood to yap about light pollution —stick with me on this one, ok?

This week, I was checking out the live bird migration map from BirdCast (as one does!) and seeing what average peak migration dates will be, when I got to thinking about light pollution. Now, having lived the majority of my adult life in cities (Boston, San Francisco, Brooklyn, and LA), this is not something that ever crossed my mind before moving back to a semi-rural area of Massachusetts. Being blinded by streetlights from my bed was a regular occurrence, so I’d been sleeping for years with blackout curtains. But when we moved to our current home, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it’s nearly pitch black at night on our street —hardly anyone has a porch light on.

Aside from being a more pleasant environment to sleep in, nighttime darkness is beneficial for nocturnal insects and birds —the saying “like a moth to a flame” is sadly accurate, as moths are drawn to artificial lights at nighttime (ALAN).

The Xerces Society explains a few potential reasons for why that could be:

One theory is that moths navigate by maintaining a constant angular relationship to a celestial light such as the moon or a bright star. Because of the vast distance between the moth and those light sources, the orientation changes very little, allowing for moths to fly in a relatively straight path. Because its orientation to a nearby light source changes quickly as a moth flies toward it however, the moth may become disoriented and fly in circles around the light. Another theory is that moths fly high into the sky during sunrise and then scan the ground below looking for a protected location to hide during the day ahead. At night, when the ground remains dark, a moth may continue flying towards what it perceives as the rising sun, only to return to the light again and again in a state of confusion.

As a child growing up in the 80s and 90s, I have a core memory of seeing bug zappers at night at some friends’ homes and I’m still horrified by the concept. A study investigating how well bug zappers work found that over the course of one summer, a standard residential device killed 13,789 insects—yet just 31 of them were actually biting pests.

Xerces Society tells us that, “The best way to protect moths from light pollution is to turn off exterior lights when possible, and to shade windows in lighted rooms at night. If you must use outdoor lighting, consider dim low-voltage lighting, lights that are motion activated, or LED lights with a warm color temperature, as these are all less attractive to moths and other insects.”

This research paper from the Royal Entomological Society states that, “The thorough search of the literature produced evidence of direct and indirect impacts of ALAN throughout the moth life cycle, with evidence from fields as diverse as ecology, physiology, cellular biology, and pest management.”

The paper goes on to posit that, while further research in this area is needed, ALAN could have a ripple effect and disrupt the ecosystem:

The potential impacts of ALAN on moth assemblages and populations could cascade to other taxa with which moths closely interact. In moths, the ontogenetic niche change (Nakazawa, 2015), with herbivorous larvae (antagonistic) becoming pollinating adults (mutualistic), might have important consequences for predicting the indirect effects of ALAN on plant community dynamics. A third fundamental position occupied by moths within ecological networks is as prey for predators and parasitoids (see section on indirect effects above). Despite the significant potential for cascading effects from moths due to light pollution, few field studies have investigated these, with most focusing on pollination.

Which brings us to birds! While it seems like ALAN can contribute to increased bird predation for moths, ALAN can also mess with migratory birds’ nighttime activities, given that the majority of migratory birds fly at night. Nearly all birds in North America – some 80% – migrate each spring and fall. And of those species that migrate, 70% travel at night for several reasons:

• Cooler temperatures help prevent overheating during long flights.

• Calmer air makes flying easier and less turbulent.

• Predator avoidance, especially from hawks and other birds of prey that are active during the day.

• Celestial navigation—they use stars and the Earth’s magnetic field to guide them.

The National Audubon Society explains that:

…as they pass over big cities on their way, they can become disoriented by bright artificial lights and skyglow, often causing them to collide with buildings or windows.

While lights can throw birds off their migration paths, bird fatalities are more directly caused by the amount of energy the birds waste flying around and calling out in confusion. The exhaustion can then leave them vulnerable to other urban threats.

Honestly between that and the bug zapper image, I am in a tenuous place right now, emotionally. I always joke that humans are a blight on the planet because lets face it, we kind of are! Not to be all Debbie Downer, but this is literally all our fault.

Lucky for us, because this is all caused by us, we can all collectively work to try to maybe, hopefully, possibly start to un-f*&% things.

To start, we can keep our porch lights turned off at night, and make sure shades are drawn in any room with bright lights on. You’ll see what I mean this summer —moths will be hovering around any window in a room with lights on. I’ve become jokingly obsessive about this and my husband and I will now exclaim, “Uh oh light pollution! There’s a moth, turn the light off!”

The National Audubon Society also has their Lights Out Program:

Further reading:

• Artificial light lures migrating birds into cities, where they face a gauntlet of threats [The Conversation]

• Light Pollution Poses Threat to Migrating Birds [DarkSky]

• Light pollution and migratory birds [BirdWatching]

To me, turning out all of your lights at night seems like such a low-effort action that, in aggregate, can have a profound effect. It’s better for nocturnal insects, migratory birds, and your wallet —it’s one of those rare situations where it seems to be all upside.

If you’re not ready to ditch the nighttime lights for good, then at least make note of the peak bird migration dates in your area this year and consider ditching them for a week or two. Then, grab your handy dandy binoculars and ‘noc those birds!

Until next (pizza) Friday,

Amy

P.S.: Here’s a gratuitous photo of me enthusiastically ready for birdwatching in Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve in Costa Rica. I didn’t go anywhere without my binoculars that entire trip!

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Reading

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

Second Nature: A Gardener’s Education by Michael Pollan

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler

Careless People by Sarah Wynn-Williams

Listening

Growing

I’m in zone 6a here in Central Massachusetts, which means it’s ~5 weeks before last frost. I use May 20th as our tentative first frost-free date, as historically that’s what our microclimate has dictated. A frost-free date is an estimate of when your area should be safe from freezing temperatures in the spring, but it’s not a guarantee. Think of it as a general guideline based on past weather patterns. Some years, frost might linger a little longer, and other years, it might warm up sooner. If you’re confused about what this means for your location check out this handy dandy tool!

I got all of my tomatoes sowed this week — varieties here:

pouring one out for the "G" in HGTV

Amy Bauer

·

Apr 4

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…and when I went to sow a few trays of annual flowers, I was dismayed to find out that most of the seed packets I had stuffed in my flower seed organizer were, in fact, completely empty. That’s what I get for not checking those before ordering seeds! I could have sworn I was lousy with flower seeds, but it turns out I just have a lousy memory.

It wasn’t all bad, though, and I took this opportunity to use up the rest of what I had, which was a real mishmash of agastache, zinnias, cosmos, marigolds, and some butterfly blue pea flowers that I have never been able to germinate before but maybe this is my year? I also discovered a stash of seeds that I saved last year from oodles of flowers in the garden, including a few dahlia seed heads that, I think, produced mature seeds. We shall see! I’m going to start those this weekend, along with any seeds and tubers I get from the annual New England Dahlia Society tuber sale at the New England Botanic Garden on Sunday. Oh and if you’re in Massachusetts or simply a horticulture enthusiast, the NEBG has a new director and here is a great article on the changeup!

I also popped out to the garden to check on the peas I sowed a couple weeks ago (all sprouting), along with the radishes I direct sowed which are coming up nicely. I tidied up a couple areas of a few beds and direct sowed some various chard and lettuces, but now the race is on to fix part of our fence that took some damage from a storm last fall. I will not be thwarted by a groundhog this year!

And lastly, we got some bareroot fruit trees and plants in the ground:

• Latham Red Raspberry

• Ouachita Blackberry

• Kieffer Pear

• Wolf River Apple

• Thomcord Grape

• Dwarf Everbearing Mulberry

• 2x Pawpaws

Have I ever eaten a pawpaw? Nope. But I learned about them years ago when I started reading about permaculture and have wanted to grow them ever since.

Making

This year, I’m trying my darndest to make everything within reason from scratch —meaning, the goal isn’t perfection, but stretching myself to rethink my grocery store purchases. I’m talking all baked goods, granola, crackers, sauces, dressings, dips, etc. I’m trying to be strategic about making and freezing extra, planning ahead, and getting the kids involved. This isn’t a tradwife/everything is poison vibe, but more of a “everything at the grocery store is so freaking expensive and I’m sick of it” frugal hippie vibe, ya feel me?

From the past week:

• this French yogurt cake with lemon zest and raspberries

• a batch of bean and cheese burritos that I tucked in the chest freezer for quick and easy weekday lunches

• chocolate chip cookie ice cream (found some rather stale homemade cookies in our cookie jar that had miraculously not been eaten by the kids)

Loving

• Milushka ceramics. I first discovered Mila’s work via a viral TikTok last fall —this one, to be precise. As a big Lord of the Rings nerd, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on one, but despite hopping on the site to order within 5 minutes of her drop, she was sold out. Yay for her, boo for me! So when the next drop rolled around, I said to heck with my no buy 2025 (I make the rules, and my exception here is for hand crafted, one-of-a-kind LOTR ceramics) and my husband ordered one for each of us. They came so beautifully packaged, are even more stunning in person than online, and came with a handful of yummy German tea bags. I’m sipping on a citrus Müllers tee stube as I type this and it’s just delightful.

• ThriftBooks. A. Edward Newton says that, “The buying of more books than one can read is nothing less than the soul reaching toward infinity...” and I took that to heart. While I’m an ardent proponent of libraries (and personally have three separate library cards, all of which I use frequently), there is still something about having a physical copy of a book. My two weaknesses are cookbooks and gardening books —both of which are necessary to own, in my humble opinion. I have found some gems at thrift stores, antique markets, the Goodwill bins, library used book sales, estate sales, and our local recycling center, but ThriftBooks has come in so handy for very particular books that I’ve sought out. I like to refer to my 2014-2020 years as an unfortunate minimalism phase that I went through —I sipped on that Kool-aid and went all woo-woo, belongings mean nothing to me, I am not defined by material goods. Except at my core, I am a little book freak, but that didn’t jive well with living in 500 sq. ft. apartments in Brooklyn and Santa Monica. Enter: ThriftBooks to source some cookbooks I foolishly got rid of during two of my four cross-country moves.

• Bird feeding TikTok accounts. Like chirpnook, rhodypeach, and thechirpcorner. They’re so peaceful and soothing and a welcome respite mid-scroll when I am bombarded with breaking news and the latest political drivel. Part of me wants to set something like this up because we get some good birds here, especially once migration really kicks off.

Link Roundup

Those Dire Wolves Aren’t an Amazing Scientific Breakthrough. They’re a Disturbing Symbol of Where We’re Heading. [Slate]

You Might Think of Shrimp as Bugs of the Sea. But a Remarkable Discovery Shows the Opposite: Bugs Are Actually Shrimp of the Land [Smithsonian Magazine]

This Hawaiian island's 'freakosystems' are a warning from the future [BBC]

In the Swiss Alps, Gruyère Cheese Is a Way of Life [bon appétit]

Oops, we accidentally drugged the world’s fish [Vox]

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