"... You find that there's nothing like picking rocks out of fields to bring people together," says Rob Jones in a New York Times piece by Christine Muhlke (2/28/10). Rob is founder of the Crop Mob, a merry band of "pop-up farmers" who band together to help "small, sustainable farms" do whatever needs to be done: "mulching, building greenhouses and pulling rocks out of fields." So far the Crop Mob has helped a total of 21 farms in the Chapel Hill, Raleigh and Durham area in North Carolina, donating a total of about 2,000 hours.

The idea originated "during a meeting about issues facing young farmers, during which an intern declared that better relationships are built working side by side than by sitting around a table. So one day, 19 people went to Piedmont Biofarm and harvested, sorted, and boxed 1,600 pounds of sweet potatoes in two and a half hours. A year later, the Crop Mob e-mail list has nearly 400 subscribers and the farm fests draw 40 to 50 volunteers." Most of the volunteer farmers are young and don't have farms of their own, but the events help give them an inside track on "internships, learn about affordable land and find potential dates."

Trace Ramsey, a farmer who has benefitted from the Crop Mob, sees an explosion of interest in farming among young people. "People are interested in authentic work," he says. "I think they're tired of what they've been told they should accomplish in their lives and they're starting to realize that it's not all that exciting or beneficial from a community perspective or an individual perspective." For the farmers, it solves a big problem, too -- not only in terms of the free labor, but also the social aspects. Rob Jones thinks the idea could spread to gardening, even to cities, since "anywhere there's dirt, a community can grow."

Josh Frye is hoping it might not be long before his chicken poop is worth more than his chickens, reports Brian Winter in USA Today (2/11/10). At Josh's West Virginia farm, the chicken poop "is fed into a large, experimental incinerating machine. Out comes a charcoal-like substance known as "biochar" -- which is not only an excellent fertilizer, but also helps keep carbon in the soil instead of letting it escape into the atmosphere, where it acts as a greenhouse gas."

So far, Josh is churning out "as much as 9,000 pounds of biochar per day" and "has sold nearly $1,000 worth of biochar to farmers as far away as New Jersey." The process isn't new; it was "used in agriculture several centuries ago by Amazon Indians," using sources other than chicken poop (e.g., wood and switchgrass). The key is to heat the poop "in an extremely low-oxygen environment -- a process that produces no smoke and no smell."

Originally, Josh was mainly interested in using the heat to warm his chicken houses. "I thought it was crazy at first, and my wife still thinks it's nuts," he says. But now he's seeing dollar signs, and thinks he can sell "high-quality biochar for $1 a pound." How does he know the quality? He puts a little bit in his mouth. "If it's pasty and hard to swallow, then it's impure," says Josh, adding, "There's big-time time people ... looking at this."

Anders Wilhelmson thinks he may have a solution to the toilet crisis in Kenya's urban slums, reports Sindya N. Bhanoo in the New York Times (3/2/10). Anders is a Swedish architect, professor and entrepreneur who found Kenyan "slum dwellers ... collected their (business) in a plastic bag and disposed of it by flinging it, calling it a 'flyaway toilet' or 'helicopter' toilet." He also noticed that, "despite being densely populated," these urban slums "had open spaces where waste could be buried."

His solution is "the Peepoo, an environmentally-friendly alternative that he is confident will turn a profit." The Peepoo is made of biodegradable plastic, and after use "the bag can be knotted and buried, and a layer of urea crystals breaks down the waste into fertilizer, killing off disease-producing pathogens." As Anders points out, "Not only is it sanitary, they can reuse this to grow crops."

Anders expects to sell the Peepoo for two or three cents each, "comparable to the cost of an ordinary plastic bag." According to the United Nations, "an estimated 2.6 billion people, or about 40 percent of the earth's population, do not have access to a toilet." The World Toilet Organization says the "market for low-cost toilets in the developing world is about a trillion dollars." Following a year of tests in Kenya and India, Anders plans to begin mass producing the Peepoo this summer.

David de Rothschild hopes to sail "a 60-foot catamaran made mostly from recycled plastic" from San Francisco to Sydney, reports Jesse McKinley in the New York Times (2/22/10). The boat is held together with glue made from cashews, but David, "a 31-year-old English banking heir and environmental daredevil," is thoroughly confident. "I'd give myself 100 percent chance of making it," he says, then adding, "But obviously, there's always a percentage that's outside of our control."

David's point is simply that "waste can be used as a resource." His 60-foot boat, which he calls the Plastiki in a nod to "the famed 1947 journey of the Kon-Tiki," is made of "thousands of recycled plastic bottles," some of which were melted down and reformed and others pressurized, "some with their labels still clinging to their sides," ring the boat's hull. Power is provided by solar panels, and "a small organic garden" will be fertilized by ... well, let's just say, the five-member crew.

Jo Royle, the Plastiki's captain, says the small biodiesel motor is pretty much useless. "We sail with the wind," she says. And if a storm hits? "We don't have the ability to get out of the way." So, if the boat breaks up out there, leaving behind some 12,000 bottles, the mission might be self-defeating. But David rather imagines his crew passing the time sunbathing, playing chess or dominoes, and blogging. "I'm over the moon," he says. "I'm super chuffed." He's even lined up a bunch of sponsors, including Nike, which has designed high tops for the mission.

Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard's life changed when he and a friend took off to climb Monte Fitz Roy in South America in 1968, reports Michael J. Ybarra in the Wall Street Journal (2/19/10). "The experience led to an unlikely fate for a couple of dirtbags," writes Yvon, in his new, co-authored, "photo-crammed" book, 180º South. "We became philanthropists." Funny, everybody else thought they became retailers.

Yvon’s “dirtbag” friend was Doug Tompkins, who not only founded The North Face, but also co-founded Esprit, the casual apparel retailer, with his wife.  They were “dirtbags” because, when they left for the trip, Yvon had just gotten married and Doug and his wife had just had a daughter. The philanthropy part didn't happen until many years later, after Yvon and Doug had made their fortunes.

Doug went on to buy millions of acres in Chile and Argentina, which he plans to preserve as national parks; Yvon also "poured his wealth into buying land in Patagonia to preserve and restore." The book happened as a result of a second trip that re-created the original journey, some 40 years later. Yvon writes: "It is the nature of nature that you can't come to know it from a book, but you can get a glimpse here. Even that much will make you want to act -- and live for it."

"Most kids wouldn't know a deer from a dog," says Jim Paine, complaining about the lack of interest in hunting among kids these days, reports Mark Yost in the Wall Street Journal (2/10/10). Brad Bowser blames videogames: "Why are they going to come out and freeze in a blind all day and maybe get one shot when they can sit in their living room and shoot all day long?' he says. Ted Nugent, the guitarist, thinks the issue is political: "We need to be celebrating the utter joy and spirituality of hunting, not apologizing for it," he says (sorry).

Others point to the fact that fewer people live on farms, the high cost of hunting and "the stigma of guns. In the 1950s, nearly every high school in New York City had a shooting team. Today, if you brought a gun to school you'd be expelled." Tom DePersia, who runs fishing trips, points to the divorce rate: "A 10-year-old kid can go out and play baseball without his dad, but they can't go hunting or fishing," he says. The outdoor industry is trying to address these issues by serving up more father-son and father-daughter hunting trips, "but with little success."

Some states have tried to help by lowering the hunting age to "as young as five." Cable TV is also stepping up with a show called Whitetail Freaks, "featuring young, attractive, female hunters." Kandi Kisky, the show's host, says, "The message is that it's okay to have pigtails, wear makeup and shoot things." Remington meanwhile is out with "a pink version of its Hot Shot, a single-shot .22 rifle designed for youngsters" (link). Others suggest safaris where the hunters wield only cameras. "It very well may be the future of the business," says Robert Dunn, who organizes such trips.

"There's alternate ways to grow food," says Rob Torcellini, whose alternative-of-choice is known as aquaponics, reports Michael Tortorello in the New York Times (2/18/10). Aquaponics is a closed-loop system, in which water and waste from a fish tank is used to hydrate and fertilize plants planted in gravel. The gravel filters the water, which is then returned to the tanks. You not only get fresh fruit and vegetables throughout the winter, but you can also eat the fish, usually tilapia, if you want. Rob built his aquaponics rig in a greenhouse in Connecticut, and he's cultivating bumper crops.

"We actually keep a tally of how many cherry tomatoes we grew ... And from one plant it was 347." He says three cucumber plants yielded 175 cukes, too. "I don't want to push it down people's throats," says Rob, "but if someone's interested, I'd like to show them how you can do this with cheap parts and a little bit of Yankee ingenuity." If you're not quite as handy as Rob, there are kits, like Farm in a Box, that provide everything you'd need. There's also a website, Backyard Aquaponics, where growing numbers of enthusiasts commune.

But be forewarned: Aquaponics can be addictive, says Sylvia Bernstien, who posts aquaponics videos on YouTube (link) and has a blog. She says that "people start with this little 100-gallon backyard system ... Next thing, they'll say, the tilapia were really cool, but I want to grow trout." For now, estimates are that "there may be 200 to 1,200 aquaponic set-ups in American homes and yards, and perhaps another 1,000 bubbling away in school science classrooms." Most enthusiasts are tinkerers, gardeners, gadget-freaks and greenies. But some see a future in which apartment-aquaponics produce fresh veggies and all the tilapia you can eat.

"As a sustainable trend, localism bears at least some resemblance to Mao Tse-tung's Great Leap Forward," writes Damon Darlin in the New York Times (2/14/10). Damon is referring to Mao's decree "that steel production be localized in backyard steel furnaces. Villagers began melting down pots and pans and creating their own steel, which amounted to low-quality and largely useless pig iron." His point is that the idea of replacing corporate food factories with local farms has its limits, given that "there isn't much that can be grown in winter in most parts of the country."

One exception -- and one that's embroiled in a bit of hypocrisy -- is wine. Local wine, because it "doesn't have to be fresh to be good," ought to be wildly popular among locavores. But it isn't: "Even at Chez Panisse, the Berkeley, Calif., restaurant where Alice Waters got the whole local-ingredients trend started, two out of three wines on a recent evening -- the wine list changes daily -- did not come from the acclaimed wine regions that begin only 25 miles away."

It's true: "Rarely, for example, do you hear a New York restaurant bragging of its Long Island wine." Bucking this trend is Pavle Milic, who serves nothing but Arizona wines at FnB, his restaurant in Scottsdale. He comments: "I develop a thick skin here with what I do," adding, "I risk losing a guest who doesn't want to drink an Arizona wine." But he says he's done taste tests and his customers can't tell the difference between, say, "a Pillsbury Casa Blanca Pinot Gris from Cochise County" and wine that came from "a famous wine-growing region." Presumably, FnB's table water is also Arizona's finest.

In Denver, Brooklyn and Houston, eco-preneurs are finding eco-community in shared eco-workspaces, reports Sindya N. Bhanoo in the New York Times (2/15/10). "It's certainly different from Wall Street, where it was all about what you did," says Jennie Nevin. "This is all about what we can do." Jennie is co-founder with two partners of Green Spaces, "a co-working space in TriBeCa that is home to environmentally focused start-up companies." She's opened another branch in Denver, and "plans to expand to Los Angeles as well."

As Jennie explains: "The green movement is about collaborating and working together ... The idea here is to create a hub." Jack Guttman has a similar concept with Green Desk, in Brooklyn, where he rents single desks for $199 per month. Having sold out his initial run of 80 desks, Jack expanded to a total of 500. He's now adding another 150 at a second location. He's also planning to "install solar panels, offer loaner bicycles, build a rooftop garden and open a space where its tenants and other eco-conscious retailers can sell their merchandise."

In Houston, Jeff Kaplan offers a similar eco-concept with New Living, which he operates above his home-furnishings store. "The movement is so new that we need to learn together," he says. Others note a sense of pride in basing their eco-businesses in a place where "plants are everywhere, the sunlight streams in, and everyone washes his or her own coffee cups." In some instances, the offices double as a laboratory: At Green Spaces, Eric and Mark Dalski have planted an interior wall of hydroponic plants to test the concept for a client. "Certainly this would be harder to do elsewhere," says Eric.

At the Topia Inn in Adams, Mass., the walls are painted in clay, the insulation is made of recycled blue jeans, and you can drink all the fair-trade coffee you want, reports Sara Rimer in the New York Times (2/5/10). The driveway, well, it's made "of grass, organic soil and recycled plastic." The roof is solar and the lights low-voltage, and there's turndown service without chocolates because they might stain the organic sheets. The inn itself is recycled from an old, abandoned hotel sitting next to a railroad station that used to be busy back when Adams, which is in the Berkshires, was an industrial mill town.

Now the inn is part of a plan by its owners, Caryn Heilman and Nana Simopoulos, to support a non-profits arts center, which they are assembling in "an abandoned vaudeville theater," which sits next to a restaurant, which they also own (Note: Alice doesn't live in the restaurant, she lives in the church nearby the restaurant, in the bell-tower, with her husband Ray and Fasha the dog). But if you want to stay at the Topia Inn, be prepared to take off your shoes at the door so you don't track in any pesticides and leave all your eco-unfriendly toiletries at home.

Caryn and Nana might give you some hemp slippers to wear instead, provide all kinds of organic grooming products and you can treat yourself to chromotherapy, which is a lavender bath illuminated by colored lights. And you get your choice of any of 10 themed rooms -- Moroccan, Greek, French, Zen, Native American. The wireless is free and you can watch anything you want on the flat-screen television. Breakfast is "freshly baked banana bread, baked pears with pomegranate seeds and an egg souffle (made with a rotary beater)." And all the fair-trade coffee you can drink.