"Reflections on Earth Day" (May 2008)

Earth Day and Arbor Day fall on the calendar here when the dogwood and redbud blossoms are in fullest glory, and with a wet spell like we've had here at the foot of the Blue Ridge recently, the place resembles Ireland. The planet seems to keep demonstrating both its resiliency and its creativity as spring comes to this verdant place each year. It is a wealth of attention at a time when our corner of the planet is looking its best. It is easy to think that all is well and all will heal itself.

But this spring, as we steel ourselves for the prospects of $4 a gallon gasoline here in the States, and face the rising costs of food to our tables and most anything transported here from anywhere else (since a dizzying amount of it travels vast oceans to arrive at our superstore shores), we perhaps are a little more mindful this Earth Day then we have been in a long time. We contemplate ways to save money by using less resources, ways to do more with less, and even doing less to save more.

Perhaps we are finally moving from the intractable paradigm of the last couple decades, the tree-hugging greenies versus the greedy capitalist meanies - it seemingly never made any sense except to politicians and lobbyists. The calculus has changed, but the basic equation hasn't - it's one planet, our planet, and it's where we all have to keep, get and grow our stuff. The planet doesn't particularly care about political affiliations, or economic status, or religious beliefs. It does what it does in a rather amazingly balanced and regenerative system.

The thing that's not guaranteed though, is that that will always include us. The planet has done its thing with air, water, plants and animals a lot longer than homo sapiens is thought to have walked the earth. The planet's history includes a lot more time that would be downright inhospitable to us than the luxury living it currently affords. And the growing realization that we might, just might, maybe could be, tilting that balance back towards being harder on us, seems to be the overarching theme to this particular Earth Day.

Not a bad thing to be mindful of, considering that we think of ourselves as being here forever when, in fact, we're here only as long as the planet can continue to support us by generating air, water and things to eat. In geologic time, we just arrived an instant ago. For all of our incredible technological progress and prowess, if we cannot accomplish the simple task of growing green things in the dirt to feed ourselves, we are in a world of hurt.

And perhaps our pocketbooks are the most direct route to temper our indifference to our home turf. If it costs us more to waste energy, we might waste less. Energy seems to be the big driving force behind all of it (surprise). While it's a little thing by itself, my wife and I have put most of the "vampires" in the house (appliances that suck a small amount of current even when they are "off") on a strict diet thanks to a couple of power strips. If a hundred, or a thousand, or ten million of us all did that, we'd save a measurable amount of energy and maybe even a little money too.

So before I leave for the west coast this week I have my own big solar energy converter all ready to go - a patch of garden 30 feet square, hardy stuff growing merrily away, the good stuff of summer like maters, peppers and squashes to follow in mid-May. The seeds and plants cost me a few cents, but the food is free with the investment of a little sweat equity, thanks to the sun and the rain.

A good friend was lamenting the other day how while leading a local wildflower walk with a group of kids, she struggled to remember many of the flower names that "I should know!". After pondering her concern for a moment, I gently reminded her that the spring beauties and bluebells have been here much longer than the two of us, and will be here long after we're gone. What we call them is nice to remember, but ultimately much less important than the seeds of attention and delight that she planted by showing their beauty to the next generation. She seemed comforted by the notion, and I am grateful that she took the time to nurture those seedlings.

Here's hoping this Earth Day portends a season of balance - enough sun and rain, enough light and dark, enough to share without too much to waste, enough to pay the bills without the bills exceeding reasonable limits. I do feel a tad more mindful this year - mindful of the cost of things, mindful of need versus want, mindful of my utter and complete dependence on this planet and its remarkable bounty. If you would like a few more ideas on how you can save yourself some money and leave a little gentler footprint, I invite you to read my essay "It's Not that Hard Being Green".

And while I'm sailing across the cattle-herd skies this week, I'll be contemplating how I might offset that rather hefty carbon footprint!