By Nina Misuraca Ignaczak for Planet Detroit.
Broadcast version by Chrystal Blair for Michigan News Connection for the Planet Detroit-Public News Service Collaboration.
Darwin Baas surveys Kent County’s landfill from the cab of a county truck, watching the steady arrival of waste-hauling vehicles dumping drywall, sofas, home clean-outs, and bagged leftovers tumbling out by the ton. An average of 800 of these trucks arrive every day. The South Kent Landfill — just outside Grand Rapids — is now about 95% full.
“Everything up here is going to try to kill you,” he tells visitors, gesturing toward the trash compactors and bulldozers weaving between soft spots of shifting debris. But it’s not just the machinery that makes this place dangerous — it’s the system itself, designed to make waste disappear with maximum convenience and minimum cost.
Baas, director of Kent County’s Department of Public Works, has spent the last 11 years trying to bend that system in a new direction. Under his leadership, Kent County has voluntarily captured methane from its landfill, continued to operate Michigan’s only municipal waste-to-energy incinerator, and proposed an ambitious Sustainable Business Park to divert food and yard waste, recover recyclables, and incubate circular economy businesses.
But most of the county’s 600,000 tons of annual municipal solid waste still ends up here.
Kent County is among a minority of counties in Michigan managing waste through a publicly operated system. The vast majority of landfills statewide — 49 of 60 — are privately owned and profit-driven, further reinforcing the incentive to bury. Waste Management owns and operates dozens of landfills across Michigan. Baas sees this as a structural barrier to meaningful change.
“We need public-private partnerships,” he said. “The investments that need to be made are long-term — that’s not something the private sector is going to do on its own.”
The challenge Baas faces isn’t just operational — it’s systemic. As Michigan works to meet its climate goals, one of the most potent sources of greenhouse gas emissions is hiding in plain sight: landfills.
When food, yard waste, and other organic materials are buried, they decompose without oxygen and produce methane — a greenhouse gas that traps more than 80 times as much heat as carbon dioxide over a 20-year period. Though less visible than smokestacks or tailpipes, landfills are among the state’s largest sources of methane emissions, trailing only the fossil fuel sector.
Michigan recently overhauled its solid waste law, in part to address methane leaks. But even with new rules on the books, economic incentives still favor the cheapest option: burying waste.
Baas sees this as a core flaw in how Michigan manages its garbage — and a missed opportunity. In Kent County, he’s built an integrated system that prioritizes material recovery, energy generation, and composting over landfilling.
However, those systems are more expensive upfront and require initial and ongoing investment, which means aligning public infrastructure, private capital and long-term planning in ways Michigan’s current system doesn’t support.
At the heart of the issue is a tension between innovation and inertia — between new solutions and a regulatory and economic system still structured around cheap disposal. Michigan has the opportunity to lead on waste recovery, Baas argues, but doing so will require more than technical upgrades. It will demand a fundamental rethinking of how the state handles waste — and who bears the burden.
A new regulatory push
Michigan overhauled its solid waste law in 2022, in part to address methane leaks. The updated Part 115 requires all landfills — regardless of age or size — to self-monitor methane emissions and fix leaks through patching or installing gas collection systems if they exceed thresholds. New technologies, including satellite mapping and drones, offer more precise ways to detect emissions than traditional walkover surveys — but adoption remains slow.
Sniffer Robotics, an Ann Arbor-based company, developed the only EPA-approved drone for landfill methane detection. Its technology, already in use at Arbor Hills Landfill, can locate leaks faster and more accurately than older methods. Yet despite promising results, cost barriers and procurement hurdles have limited uptake across the state.
Michigan’s new rules also impose faster compliance timelines: sites must correct surface emissions within 90 days or begin designing a full gas collection system. Currently, Michigan landfills use a mix of active and passive gas systems — active systems vacuum methane to flares or energy generators. In contrast, passive systems may vent it directly into the air. Sites without active collection may eventually be forced to upgrade.
Tim Unseld, a solid waste engineer with the Department of Environment, Great Lakes, and Energy (EGLE), said two landfills without gas systems have already detected surface emissions and made repairs. But those fixes may not last. “Once enough landfill gas is generated, it will follow the path of least resistance to escape,” he said. Ongoing repairs can become costly — pushing operators toward installing full recovery systems, particularly if they can sell the captured methane as energy.
Environmental advocates argue the reforms don’t go far enough. “We’re the sixth-largest producer of landfill methane emissions, even though we’re only the 10th or 11th most populous state,” said Mike Garfield, executive director of the Ecology Center. “The basic reason is simple: We’ve made it too easy and too cheap to landfill waste.”
Garfield wants the state to adopt enforceable best practices across the board — including tighter flare controls, real-time monitoring, and mandatory adoption of tools like Sniffer’s — and points to the 2022 Arbor Hills consent judgment as a model.
Arbor Hills, owned by GFL Environmental, is the largest landfill in the state in terms of the amount of waste in place, according to EPA. It has faced years of complaints and violations tied to odor, gas migration, and leachate issues. So far, however, EGLE has not moved to apply those stricter terms statewide.
“The Part 115 amendments of 2023 include what EGLE considers best practices,” said agency spokesperson Josef Greenberg, adding that the state’s current focus is on implementation.
The economics of food waste disposal
Food waste is the largest single component of Michigan’s municipal waste stream by weight. Yet efforts to keep it out of landfills face a steep uphill climb — in large part because the system is built to reward the opposite.
Disposal fees are typically based on weight, creating a strong financial incentive for landfills owners to accept heavier materials like food waste. “This is really carbon-rich material — it generates methane, and they can use that methane to drive biogas-based processes,” Desirée Plata, an environmental engineer at MIT.
It’s a perverse incentive, she noted, especially as Michigan aims to reduce methane emissions. Instead of rewarding diversion, the current system reinforces disposal. “We’re paying for disposal by the ton, not by environmental outcome,” she said. According to EPA data, 35 out of 60 landfills in Michigan — nearly 60% — have landfill gas-to-energy projects.
That tension sits at the heart of Baas’s frustration. He’s spent years trying to reorient the local waste system around recovery. “I’ve been told I’m an oddity in the waste industry,” Baas said. “Most people don’t see the system this way.”
Waste recovery adds expense and faces adoption challenges, said Debora Johnston with Waste Management. “Capturing landfill gas generates revenue to help operators keep disposal costs down, helps protect our environment, and creates a renewable energy source for our local community,” she said.
“But separating out organics like food waste is expensive.” Indeed, the estimated cost for Kent County to meet the needs of a community of 640,000 to process 400,000 tons of mixed waste would exceed $400 million.
Plata said one of the most effective actions municipalities can take today is to fund composting. “Every municipality on the planet should be funding compost programs,” she said. “It’s one of the easiest things we can do to fight climate change — and it works.”
But Johnston points out the challenge of getting people to change their ways.
“Most communities are finding participation in recycling programs to have plateaued,” Johnston said. “And new organics collection and drop-off sites face many of the same challenges.”
That’s why Baas sees single-stream processing — separating out organics like food waste and recoverable items like recyclables and metals after pickup — as the path forward.
Despite setbacks, including the withdrawal of a private-sector partner, Kent County is moving forward with its Sustainable Business Park — a proposed 250-acre campus on county-owned farmland next to the nearly full South Kent Landfill.
The county has made a deliberate decision not to site a new landfill there and instead repurpose the land for recovery infrastructure that could process food and yard waste — which has been banned from landfills in Michigan since 1993.
“We’re past the point of building another landfill,” Baas said. “We’re trying to do something different.” Still, he acknowledges the economics won’t shift without public investment and new rules.
“We’ve determined that the highest, best use for these organics was mission critical,” he said. “But unless you change policy and infrastructure to make it go somewhere else, food waste will keep going to landfills — the lowest hanging fruit economically.”
Nina Misuraca Ignaczak wrote this article for Planet Detroit.
get more stories like this via email
New Mexico farmers finding it more difficult to grow historic crops are taking up conservation techniques to meet the challenge.
Drought, water scarcity, and extreme weather events combine to require growers to adopt new methods and modern tools.
John Idowu, extension agronomist specialist at New Mexico State University, shows farmers how to improve soil health and help control wind erosion. For long term success, he said they need to focus on sustainable, regenerative practices.
"How can I optimize my system and make it more resilient to climate change, to weather changes?" Idowu explained. "Once we have all those things worked out, farmers will tend to stay in business for longer."
Earlier this year, a NOAA satellite captured an image of winds lifting vast amounts of dust and dirt from New Mexico's dry farmlands. Some forecasters compared it to images last seen in the 1930s Dust Bowl.
Plowing agricultural fields annually was a common practice until the Dust Bowl period but in recent decades no-till or low-till farming operations have gained traction.
Bonnie Hopkins Byers, program director for the San Juan County Extension Service, encouraged New Mexico farmers to get a soil analysis and consider adopting the less aggressive approach. She said it could mean they do not need to till every year.
"One of the biggest problems is that people do something because that's the way they've always done it, or because it's the way their parents have done it, or their grandparents," Hopkins Byers acknowledged. "My philosophy has always been if you're going to till something over, till something in."
Intense dust storms known as "haboobs" were originally thought to be confined to Africa's Sudan but are becoming more common in other arid regions such as the Southwest.
Idowu stressed it makes the adoption of regenerative practices more urgent, as topsoil on New Mexico farmland disappears due to drought, land use changes and wind, which he noted has been particularly strong this year.
"The wind has been a major force, especially in the spring, so many days where you couldn't do anything outside because of the wind," Idowu observed. "You have a lot of dust and that means a lot of erosion and that is exactly what you don't like when it comes to crop production."
The New Mexico Healthy Soil Working Group formed to help farmers improve their land and livelihoods.
get more stories like this via email
By Carolyn Beans for Lancaster Farming.
Broadcast version by Mark Richardson for Keystone State News Connection reporting for the Lancaster Farming-MIT Climate Change Engagement Program-Public News Service Collaboration
At Mountain View Holsteins in Bethel, Pennsylvania, owner Jeremy Martin is always working to make his dairy more efficient.
Currently, he has his sights set on a manure solid-liquid separator. He’d like to use the solid portion of his manure as bedding for his 140 cows and the liquid as fertilizer.
But the project is pricey — he expects the equipment alone will run around $100,000. So Martin hopes to defray the cost through grant funding for dairy projects that reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Removing much of the solids from manure reduces the feed for the methane-producing microbes that thrive in the anaerobic conditions of liquid manure.
The approach is just one of many dairy practices now considered “climate-smart” because they could cut production of climate-warming gases.
For Martin, a manure separator wouldn’t be possible without a grant.
“Once it's in place and going, I think some of these practices will pay for themselves, but the upfront cost is more than I can justify,” he says. “If there's money out there to pay that upfront cost to get started, it makes sense to me to do it.”
Across Pennsylvania, dairy farmers are learning more about climate-smart practices and funding opportunities, and weighing whether these changes are really sustainable for their businesses as well as the environment.
The Latest Buzzword
USDA has defined climate-smart agriculture as an approach that reduces or removes greenhouse gas emissions, builds resilience to the changing climate, and sustainably increases incomes and agricultural productivity.
“Before climate-smart was a thing, we called it conservation. We called it stewardship,” says Jackie Klippenstein, a senior vice president at Dairy Farmers of America.
Indeed, long before the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations coined the term “climate-smart agriculture” in 2010, Pennsylvania dairy farmers had adopted many of the practices that now fall under the label.
For dairy, climate-smart practices largely include strategies that reduce greenhouse gases emitted from cows, manure or fields. Tried and true conservation practices like cover cropping and reduced tillage count.
So do newer practices like using the feed additive Bovaer to reduce methane production in a cow’s rumen, or precision nitrogen management to reduce nitrous oxide emissions from fields.
Paying for Climate-Smart
“Margins are very tight on the dairy farm,” says Jayne Sebright, the executive director of the Center for Dairy Excellence, a public-private partnership to strengthen Pennsylvania’s dairy industry. “Some of these (climate-smart practices) are good for the climate, but they don't make good economic sense until they're subsidized.”
In 2022, the center joined a Penn State-run program called "Climate-smart Agriculture that is profitable, Regenerative, Actionable and Trustworthy" to provide dairy farmers with funds for switching to climate-smart practices.
CARAT was launched with a $25 million USDA Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities grant, but the future of the Pennsylvania project is in doubt. In April, USDA canceled the partnership program, suggesting that recipients reapply to a new USDA initiative called Advancing Markets for Producers.
Over 60 dairy farmers across Pennsylvania, including Martin, had already applied and been accepted into the first phase of CARAT. This initial phase was intended to help farmers identify the best climate-smart practices for their operations. In the second phase, farmers would have applied for funding to implement those practices. One farmer was already paid for his project before the USDA canceled the partnership program.
“There are fewer funding sources for climate-smart projects than in the last administration. However, private organizations and other entities are funding climate-smart projects,” Sebright says. “Depending on what the practice is, (climate-smart) could also be conservation projects. It could be water quality projects.”
Sebright suggests that dairy farmers also look for support through state-level funding, such as Pennsylvania’s Resource Enhancement and Protection program, which offers tax credits for implementing practices that benefit farms and protect water quality.
Pennsylvania dairy farmers can also contact their county conservation districts to ask about funding opportunities for climate-smart projects, says Amy Welker, a project manager and grant writer for Pennsylvania-based Jones Harvesting, which operates Maystone Dairy in Newville and Molly Pitcher Milk in Shippensburg.
In the next year, Jones Harvesting plans to install a methane digester and solid-liquid separator at a site near Maystone Dairy. The digester is funded with an Agricultural Innovation Grant from the state and an Environmental Quality Incentives Program grant from USDA, along with private funds.
There’s money out there for farmers who implement climate-smart practices, says Welker. But “you can't just look at one source.”
Long-Term Payoffs
Ultimately, for climate-smart projects to make economic sense, they must continue paying for themselves long after the initial investment. One major goal of the USDA’s Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities program was to develop markets where farmers adopting these practices could earn a premium.
Some dairy farmers might see that return in the carbon market. National checkoff organization Dairy Management Inc. and its partners have pledged to shrink the industry's net greenhouse gas production to zero by 2050. There are growing opportunities for companies working toward that goal in the dairy supply chain to pay farmers for their contributions.
Early last year, Texas dairy farmer Jasper DeVos became the first to earn credits through the livestock carbon insetting marketplace. DeVos earned carbon credits by reducing methane emissions with a feed protocol that included the feed additive Rumensin. Dairy Farmers of America then purchased those credits through Athian, a carbon marketplace for the livestock industry.
Increased Efficiency
Even without direct monetary payoff, many farmers who adopt climate-smart practices reap rewards in improved efficiency and productivity.
“When you look at climate-smart, you also have to look at what's farm smart,” Sebright says. She suggests that farmers choose practices that benefit their farms, not just the climate.
A farmer might decide to put a cover and flare system on a manure pit, not only because it reduces methane emissions but also because it keeps rainwater out of the pit and reduces the number of times each year the pit must be emptied.
Andy Bollinger of Meadow Spring Farm in Lancaster County has been running a manure separator since 2009. The liquid fertilizes his fields, and a portion of the solids becomes bedding for his cows.
He estimates the system saves him at least $20,000 a year in bedding costs.
“We put a fresh coating of it onto the stalls that our cows lay in every day and scrape the old stuff out,” says Bollinger, who is also the vice president of the Professional Dairy Managers of Pennsylvania. “It seems to work quite well, and it saves us from buying other bedding products.”
No-till farming is also a cost saver because it reduces field passes with equipment, says James Thiele of Thiele Dairy Farm in Cabot, which has been 100% no-till for at least six years. The practice saves him money on fuel and herbicides.
“You're saving your environment, and you're also saving green,” he says.
But Thiele questions whether some other climate-smart practices like methane digesters would be practical for his farm, which has 75 to 80 cows.
“I don't know if it'd be worth it for somebody as small as I am,” he says.
“I think over the next few years, we'll rapidly see (climate-smart) tools become more available, and we'll see more organizations like DFA talking to our small to mid-sized farmers to make sure they understand they've got a place in this, they can benefit from it, and the practices and tools are affordable to them as well,” Klippenstein says.
Weighing Climate-Smart
Many dairy farmers wonder whether some of the practices championed as climate-smart will really support their businesses.
Donny Bartch of Merrimart Farms in Loysville has adopted environmental practices from cover cropping to a manure management plan.
“I want to protect the environment. I want to keep my nutrients here on the farm and be sustainable for another five generations,” Bartch says. “But we have to make sure that we're making the right decisions to keep the business going. And to do some of these (climate-smart) practices, the only way they pencil out is to have those subsidies.”
There is also frustration with a system that rewards climate-smart improvements made today without acknowledging the contributions of farmers who were climate-smart before anyone put a name on it.
“You come around and want to start rewarding people for doing these things. You really need to start with the ones that have been doing it for a long time, but that's really not what happens,” says Jim Harbach of Schrack Farms in Loganton, whose farm has been no-till for 50 years.
Climate-smart grant money and carbon credits are typically awarded for the implementation of new practices.
“It’s just the unfortunate way that all of the policies and regulations were written,” Sebright says. “What I would say is, if you do a climate-smart plan, maybe there are practices or things you can do to enhance or support or take what you're doing a step further.”
Scientific Measurements on Real Farms
Some dairy farmers also want to know more about how climate-smart practices will affect their farms before jumping in.
Steve Paxton remembers participating in a government program to improve timber over 50 years ago on his family dairy, Irishtown Acres in Grove City. His family members were paid to climb up into their white pines and saw off many of the bottom branches.
The goal was to create a cleaner log. Instead, more sunlight shown through, which caused grape vines to climb up and topple the trees.
“The bottom line is, there was research done, it looked good, but it hadn’t had enough time to follow through and see just really what the end results would be,” Paxton says.
When Paxton sees estimates of how some practices might reduce greenhouse gases emitted from cows, he wonders how much of that research has been tested on actual dairies.
“I think some of it now is just kind of a textbook estimate of what's happening,” he says.
More meaningful data is needed to show how climate-smart practices reduce greenhouse gases on individual dairies, Sebright says.
As part of the CARAT program, Penn State researchers planned to place greenhouse gas sensors on a dozen dairies and test how much greenhouse gas production falls as farmers experiment with different practices. The researchers intended to then use that data to build models that predict how those practices may affect emissions on other farms. They will still measure emissions this spring on one farm that is experimenting with a new approach for spreading manure in fields of feed crops.
“The real goal of (CARAT) is to have research that says, if you put a cover and flare (manure storage system) on a 500-cow dairy, this is how greenhouse gas emissions will change,” Sebright says. “Or if you use Bovaer on a 90-cow herd, here's how this will affect greenhouse gas emissions.”
Martin of Mountain View Holsteins has his own personal beliefs about where a dairy farmer’s responsibilities to the planet begin and end. But from a business perspective, he feels compelled to adopt climate-smart practices because he expects the industry will eventually require them.
“Climate concerns are coming whether I'd like it or not,” he says. “So my thought is, I might as well get started on it while there's funding to do it.”
Carolyn Beans wrote this article for Lancaster Farming.
get more stories like this via email
Oregon's new state budget cuts funding for programs intended to protect residents from extreme weather and make renewable energy more accessible.
Climate justice advocates said it is a major setback after years of progressive climate policies.
Ben Brint, senior climate program director for the Oregon Environmental Council, is disappointed to lose funding for the Community Renewable Energy Grant Program, which supports a variety of projects tailored to communities, including microgrids and solar storage.
"We felt legislators didn't fund climate resilience programs while fires are raging, people's houses are burning down and the state has already experienced record heat waves in June," Brint pointed out. "Legislators don't see we are in an actual climate emergency and chose inaction."
Brint said the grant program aimed to help low-income, rural and communities of color, those most impacted by climate disasters. Lawmakers attributed the cuts to budget shortfalls and uncertainty over federal funding.
Joel Iboa, executive director of the Oregon Just Transition Alliance, said the Community Resilience Hub program, which creates networks as well as physical places to protect people from extreme cold, heat and smoke also lost funding this session. He argued the hubs are effective because communities design them to meet their unique needs.
"Whether it be a place to plug in your phone or a place to go get diapers or get an air conditioner or whatever your community may need," Iboa outlined. "Depending on what's going on."
A heat pump program for rental housing, aimed at making energy-efficient heating and cooling more affordable, was also cut this session.
Brint added he realizes legislators have to make tough decisions about how to fund health care and housing but emphasized climate change is connected to those issues.
"When we're talking about heat pumps or the C-REP program, we're talking about people's health and livelihoods and saving lives in the face of climate fueled disaster," Brint stressed.
Brint added since climate change is not going away, the movement to push for climate resilience will not either.
get more stories like this via email