Seven Apparently Recyclable Unrecyclables

Time for a confession from your local conservationist (me): I only just began to recycle.

This sounds worse than it really is. While I lived in Baltimore and had curbside recycling, I joyfully separated my trash and sent it on its way to reincarnation. While I lived in Germany, I became a pro at understanding the differences among Biomüll, die gelbe Sack, Restmüll, and various forms of glass and paper recycling. However, since returning to this beautiful land of mountains and countryside, I have unfortunately also returned to a township that does not offer curbside recycling.

This summer, I finally set up boxes in my garage for separated plastics, junk mail, magazines, and metals. Every couple weeks, as the boxes fill up, I'll drive them a mile away to a collection point. The collection point is even across the road from my favorite pizza shop, so it works well for everyone.

Something I have only just learned, however, is that I can't recycle everything here the same way I would have in Germany. My mom found this article through the Weather Channel about seven things you can't recycle. How illuminating! Caps, yogurt, glass....

I recommend a read-through. Some things are more obvious than others, but in all points, they provide a good explanation instead of simply saying "don't."

I'm Uninformed ... and know it!

My brother the engineer says that if he didn't know me already and read my previous post about solar- and wind-powered cars, he would think I was an idiot and a crazy person who didn't know what I was talking about. Raving lunatic, I think were his words. Environmental wacko that gives conservationists a bad name.

My apologies.

Those of you who know me, know I was being ridiculous, but it's probably good to establish for the other readers out there that yes, I do realize I know nothing about this technology, and that I'm also absolutely assured that people who do know things are working to get this stuff off the ground. That's one reason I posted in the first place: I think the people who develop things like that new wind turbine are absolutely amazing. They are that vital link between the uninformed ideas and actual, solid inventions.

So, satire aside, thank you technowhizzes who are making the world a better place! I'll try not to make my brother and his coworkers mad next time I post on things I don't understand. (Ha!)

Wind Powered Cars

Woohoo!!

My classmate Pam just posted this article on her blog at Sustainable Living. How exciting!

You must understand that I've been saying for years that we need wind and solar powered cars. I have also done exactly zero research into this possibility. I'm no scientist, but the way I see it, if we make the car roof a solar panel big enough to generate at least enough power to start the engine, it will get the car moving.

Then, to keep the car moving, we integrate small windmills into the design of the car. I'm not talking about driving around with Don Quixote on your rearview mirrors. I mean to form slits or gills on the sides of the car that the wind passes through as you drive. Put a bunch of small windmills in these gills, and it's sure to generate enough power to keep the car moving.

It always looked a little silly to me, though, in my imagination, and I was pretty sure there would be no tiny windmills powerful enough to keep a car zipping along at 70. And what about people who park their cars in garages or have convertible tops? These wouldn't be able to use that solar technology.

Well, this new wind invention gives me hope for my plans yet. Surely it's got to be easier to integrate these into the design of a car than it would be to fit windmills.

And if not, at least Haitians will get power. And that's good enough for me.

Long-Awaited Photographs

I've been out of town a lot lately, so I haven't had the chance to watch my yard gradually transition into its current state. Not that springtime generally suggests "gradual transition" anyway; each hour, something new and different has popped up in my yard or changed color or unfurled into a huge leafy fern. Still, leaving for a few days and returning has reminded me anew that the yard of sticks and starkness of wintertime becomes a Pennsylvanian jungle come spring.

Last week, one of my friends and readers mentioned to me that to those of you who haven't been to my backyard might like to see more pictures of the setting. I must say, I would have hoped to describe it well enough to not require pictures (nudge nudge, wink wink). However, being perfectly honest, now that I have a new--that is, functional--camera, I can get over my actual hangup and capture some of images of my very photogenic backyard.

To begin, a view of the vegetable garden, shaded by the ash tree. Behind is the housing development that used to be a small woods.

The strawberries refuse to grow within the garden fence, but here they are, preparing to switch from white blossoms to sweet red berries.

Next, what we call the Fairy Garden, perfect for relaxing with a glass of wine on a summer evening.

Then, of course, the famous view from the garden swing.

In my opinion, the existence of phlox is proof that God loves Pennsylvania. Whether in cascading millions along the driveway border...

...or as a single blossom, this native wildflower is one of Pennsylvania's greatest treasures.

The forget-me-nots, too, are as spectacular en masse as they are alone.

Our shade garden, however, is one of the most Pennsylvanian squares in the yard. After we moved in twenty years ago, my mom spent hours and years transforming it from a solid mass of packed clay to a display area for wildflowers lovingly transplanted from her uncle's woods.

Buttercups...

Mayapples ... and a bleeding heart peeking through the leaves...

...all make for a lovely bouquet.

Lovely enough even for the wookiee to enjoy.

Something Tells Me It's All Happening At the Zoo

I do believe it's true. A friend of mine sent me this article from MSN all about zoos and their current movement to be more natural and environmentally friendly.

The only zoos I've ever been to and enjoyed were the National Zoo in DC and Busch Gardens in Florida. They had natural habitats for the animals, not concrete slabs, and they had huge ditches to separate humans from dangerous beasts, not bars and cages.

I'm glad to see that more zoos are taking that initiative, and that there are programs that encourage this sort of zoo setup over the other, less humane versions. It's also exciting to see that the Philadelphia Zoo is offsetting its carbon use. As much as it helps for individuals and families to think ecologically, it's the huge institutions that will really make a difference just by setting an example.

Encourage the good zoos around you. Appreciate their conservation intentions, and consider how they can improve still more.

Dirty Feet

My feet are dirty and I couldn't be happier.

Yesterday, I returned home from a weekend in Philadelphia, staying with a couple of dear friends in their 7th-floor apartment across from the Art Museum. My feet kept going numb all weekend. Something about walking on pavement, I think.

Today I wore sandals and rolled up my jeans before taking a walk around my remarkably green backyard. The thicket of bushes that Mom and I once christened The Fairy Garden looked hopelessly dead all winter -- so dead that you may have noticed I never mentioned it -- and the mockingbird that camped there all winter had poor camo for hiding in a transparent cluster of empty sticks. Between Friday morning, when I left for Philadelphia, and yesterday, when I got home, the Artist spilled his green paint on the Fairy Garden and even added some blossoming crabapples for good measure.

When I came in, I had to wash my feet.

This afternoon, I wore sandals again to aerate my compost bin and add some grass clippings from last week's first mowing. I encountered the wookiee birdwatching behind the garden shed, but for all his wookiee-like aggression, he's more of a gentle giant. He chases squirrels from bird feeders and leaves the birds alone.

When I came in, I had to wash my feet again.

And then this evening, I went completely shoeless while scrubbing up and hosing down the window screens. Hose water + the backyard = muddy feet. It also = clean screens, which is glorious for the sudden spring weather. I washed my bedroom windows and put in all the screens. I was 1/3 through washing the living room windows when it began to rain.

I should probably have stuck my feet out the window for a natural wash, but I didn't. They're still dirty.

One Sunday morning when I was living in Baltimore, my friends and I were walking from the car in the parking lot to the front door of the church. Between the parking lot and the foyer, however, was an open yard of grass. I kicked off my dress shoes and walked barefoot across the grass. It was maybe ten steps all together, but those ten steps held me through another week of pavement and downtown.

I got claustrophobic in my friends' apartment this past weekend, and it's not a small apartment by any means. But for all its square footage and windows, I felt like I was in a shoebox in the middle of a crate stacked in a storeroom in the bowels of a strip mall.

This past Sunday, while they were driving along a woodsy country road, my grandma looked out the window at the trees and said to my mom, "You know, sometimes I think we get too far away from nature."

And you know? My dirty feet and I think my grandma was absolutely right.

Dog-Sitting

My neighbors went on vacation this week and asked whether I'd like to watch their dog.

The answer, initially, was no way, but I didn't tell them that. I'm not much of a dog person, and this particular dog has a bad reputation. But I did agree to at least meet the canine and let his owner walk me through the basics of vacation care.

The dog loves me.

I don't know why, but he has taken to me like a mockingbird takes to a new birdcall. And their yard, just three doors up the hill from mine, is like a different environment altogether. As the dog sniffs around his yard and does his thing, I get to watch a different set of birdfeeders, observe a different view of the horizon, and listen, listen, listen.

Yesterday, there was a rufus-sided towhee whistling in the trees. Today, I could see elk on the next hill over. Even the wind sounds a little different from that part of the hill.

Tomorrow is my last day of watching the dog, mainly because I myself am going out of town for a few days (if you're lucky, you might get an update about it on my travel blog). But I think that I might still venture up to my neighbor's yard occasionally this summer when I am in town. It's funny how a slight change of angle can give you a whole new perspective on a familiar place.