Are You Eco-Savvy?

When it comes to being "green," there are many shades. One company only uses bamboo wood. Another manufacturer uses water-based stains. Some recycled plastic patio furniture is made from milk jugs, but others appear to be only partially recycled?

When you're shopping for eco-friendly stuff, you've gotta be careful. Many manufacturers are jumping on the environmentalist band wagon before they know how to ride it. If you want to become an eco-savvy shopper, start by investigating these 4 areas:

• Material Origin. Think about where the materials come from. Is the desk made of a sustainable wood like bamboo or an endangered tree species? Is that compost bin made of 100% recycled plastic or just partially recycled components?
  
• Construction. Is the factory complying with emissions standards? Is the product made with a chemical-based stain or a water-based stain? Did the manufacturing process produce a lot of wood or liquid waste? Did they treat that area rug with re-usable water dyes?
  
• Livability. Some products can have a harmful effect on you without you noticing - like certain kinds of plastic water bottles. Non-toxic finishes are important for family settings where kids come in close contact with surfaces. Depending on how they are treated during manufacturing, some rugs promote better indoor air quality.
  
• Afterlife. What will happen to that wrought iron patio set after it rusts or falls apart? Populate a landfill? Some recycled plastic furniture can be recycled again once it outlives its usefulness. Check with your local recycling service about options.
  

Shopping can get complicated when you're trying to decipher eco-speak. The more you ask questions, the more you'll learn over time. And the more you demand from your suppliers, the more they'll have to live up to your expectations to protect the environment from start to finish.

Of Snow and Ascents: Mount Tamalpais

After a week of highs in the 40s and 50s, Nebraska is getting hit with heavy snow - a nice, wet, thrilling type of snow that moves in, wrecks your plans, and moves out in time to make new plans for sledding, forts, and angels. You might say, well, that's Nebraska for ya. Warm one day, frigid the next. But I think that's why I live here.

I recently had the privilege of visiting a close friend in California in the San Francisco area where it's typically moderate in temperate with varying days of sun, rain, and clouds. Not quite as much variety as I'm used to here on the Plains, but perhaps enough for my friend who cherishes the sea and her particular coastal community.

While I was there, we saw sights in the city and enjoyed some awesome crab and halibut on Fisherman's Wharf, rides on a ferry and a cable car, and a bit of shopping in China Town. There were many highlights, but for you nature-lovers out there, this next part is what you want to pay attention to.

Mount Tamalpais. Sometimes referred to as Mt. Tam for short, this mountain overlooking the San Francisco Bay area seemed like a very large hill to me, compared to the Tetons in Wyoming, but it certainly didn't diminish it's majesty nor the spectacular views of the Pacific from the top. Our 8-mile hike began at Stinson Beach, followed Matt Davis Trail, detoured to summit the mountain, rejoined Matt Davis, and ended back near the beach. The most amazing part of the hike was the vibrant coastal plant and tree life, which was a shock to a Nebraskan like me. So thick and moist and mossy - like an enchanted forest overgrown with bent branches spreading in every direction. It almost had a mysterious character about it, like some hollow from Lord of the Rings. On our return path, several Redwoods shot up from the thick growth of the moist forest floor, much to my elation.

Perhaps I'll have to divulge more details in my next blog, but for now, let me clarify where this is going. Even though that region of California was so intoxicating, and it'd be great to visit again, I'm glad to be back in Nebraska for this snow storm. I'd hate to have it pass without feeling the wet flakes on my cheeks, hearing the crunch under my boots, and seeing the scotch pine sag from the weight of so many fragile white specs.

No more excuses - Compost Now

As we roll into February, some of us might be thinking, gosh, there go my new year's resolutions down the drain. The tendency is to soothe ourselves with thoughts of next year, or acquiesce to watered-down versions of our resolutions - like diet soda would be OK, even though I decided to quit soda for good, or running up the stairs on my way to a nap is a fine form of exercise for today. My guess is you have a couple lines you could add?

Some resolutions are harder than others to stick to, but one thing I don't have to be weak about is my decision to be more consistent about composting. All I need is a bucket or collector bin of some kind to set on the kitchen counter. That way it'll stare at me every time I peel an orange or crack an egg shell, begging me "Pick me, pick me! The trash can is ungrateful and only reeks up your house, but me, I'm worth something. I add value to your property. I make your flowers smile. . ." OK. You get the picture.

The point is, when you have a compost collector in your home, you don't have to take multiple trips to the compost bin every week. Just choose the size that fits your typical quantity of scraps, fill the bin, carry it outside, and empty it into your compost bin. I saw some neat collector bins and indoor kitchen composters on the NetShops site called CompostBins.com. (See the links below.) They also have a good selection of compost bins, if you haven't adopted that practice yet, either.

No more excuses. Composting is a small thing that can do a lot of good.

Odor-Free Compost Caddy
Handy Dandy Compost Pail
SCD Happy Farmer Kitchen Composter - Black
RTS Kitchen Composter

Shower the New Year with Bio-Fetti

Between party plans and holiday gifts, you probably haven't finished your list of New Year's resolutions. Maybe you have, but allow me to make one suggestion: Go Green. Here's how:

• Resolve to recycle.
  
• Commit to composting.
  
• Lock your feet to the pedals and bike to work.
• Ditch the styrofoam - use dishes.

I'm sure you can add numerous ideas to the list on your own.

But before we get too serious about this resolution thing, let's party! - with biodegradable confetti! Yes, they really do make such a thing as biodegradable confetti. And it makes good sense, too. Who wants to spend hours sweeping and picking up teeny tiny flecks all over nature's finest gifts (trees, grass, flowers, etc.), or even on cement for that matter.

Colorful, lightweight, and water-soluble, ecofetti may be the only option permitted for weddings or other celebrations at certain locations. You can by it in bulk and fill your own containers, or purchase individual poppers that spew fun confetti just at the right moment.

Here are some online sources for biodegradable confetti:

Brides' Village
FavorCreative
EcoParti
BeauCoup


Now you can ring in the new year with a joyful shower outdoors and not feel bad about leaving a mess in the environment! Rain or a hose is all you'll need to dissolve the confetti and wash it away. Happy New Year!

Camping in Winter

Whenever I enter the world of hypothetical, why is it that everyone knows I'm talking about a real person? As if my brain capacity can't accommodate a genuine hypothetical situation, but can only handle real ones.

What's the point? Well, let's say I have this friend, a crazy in short, who equates negative temperatures with the desire to go camping. Wind-chapped cheeks, strange survival dances around a fire, and burrowing inside snow caves make a short list of things he's eager to enjoy on his impending winter camping outing.

So I ask myself, really, what is it that would possess someone to incur the risks of frost bite and hypothermia to challenge the beasts of winter? Maybe it's something primal, like an instinct: feel cold on skin = must go camping. Or maybe, like bears and elk and all sorts of animals that live in arctic conditions, it's just a matter of existence.

I've spoken of this idea before that to truly love a landscape, you have to experience it. Think of spending a day in the loess hills in Iowa to help your human consciousness "remember" what prairie was like. You've never seen a real prairie. You've only read about it in books, but then you go and you know why you want it to be there.

Perhaps the same is true for winter fascinations. It's easy to love rolling green hills of grass spotted with cloud shadows, but how attractive are they in a blizzard? How well do you love several feet of hardened snow in North Dakota, -34 degrees near Billings yesterday, and wind plucking the wool right off your chest. It's just like a long-term dating relationship where you purposely experience the other person in every mood, every situation, among all sorts of people to see if you can love the climate, not just weather the spring.

Compost Thanks (You for) Giving

Thanksgiving is coming, and like many households across the United States, mine will be hosting company over the holiday. So that means cleaning the house and the yard AND decorating with realistic fall decorations.

When I say realistic, I'm talking about arrangements of sumac, flowering goldenrod, and little bluestem gathered from recent hikes; surplus milo and wheat from friends' family farms; and gourds and Indian corn purchased from local apple orchards. The more nature I can bring into my dwelling, the better I feel - especially during fall.

Although my seasonal preparations often take me to forests and prairie in the area, I also benefit from the enormous red oak in my neighbor's yard. For some reason, it held onto its precious leaves longer than usual this year. It also refrained from producing acorns. If anyone has the inside scoop on the reasons an oak would have for such behavior, I'm all ears. But more directly to the point, my autumn decorating was finished by the time the red oak decided to extend its generosity to my yard, preventing me from integrating the rusty red leaves into my arrangements.

Needless to say, my lawn has graciously accepted the red oak's gifts in my stead. So, I guess I'll have to draw this tool called a rake and find some other resourceful use for all those leaves. . .

I have a compost bin. If you have one, too, then here's a few tips on using fallen leaves for compost:

• Rake the leaves into a pile.
• Use a shredder or lawn mower to chop the leaves into smaller pieces. This will speed decomposition. Note: use the catching bag on your mower to gather the shreds easily.
• Spread some of the shredded leaves near and around your perennials or in your garden bed. Don't put too much directly on the perennials.
  
• Put a portion of the shredded leaves into your compost bin, being sure to layer and mix with other organic materials like egg shells, vegetable scraps, etc.

That should give you a general understanding of the process, but if you want to learn more, check out this article about composting leaves for more information.

What Rachmaninoff has to do with Fall

I may not know much about "classical" music - romantic, baroque, or otherwise - but I do know what effect Rachmaninoff has on the autumn psyche. And by autumn psyche I mean the particular movement in the mind when fall begins to overtake the natural elements that surround the body: coolness in the air, tinges of rust on all deciduous plant life, the quieting down that is the antithesis of spring.

As I listen to Rachmaninoff's Concerto No. 2 in C minor for Piano and Orchestra, there is a palpable longing, perhaps a touch of sadness in the harmonies, and an intoxicating enchantment in the melody. If not prone to imagine the romance of a concert hall, you might instead imagine stretching fields of harvest tide, blown by a chilly wind that whips the crop remnants into circles (during the first movement - Moderato). Then in the second movement (Adagio sostenuto), the leaves turn crisp and brown, and the last of them waft their way to lie on the dormant grass.

The third and final movement (Allegro scherzando) arrives with a rush, as if the forest animals are scurrying to gather enough food to last through winter. As if making a stand at the last stretch of a long and weather-beaten journey, the concerto brandishes its bold but fading colors and dies triumphantly on the sword of winter.