Living in Florence, however, you don’t need an outdoor garbage can. Individual households sort according to recyclables, organic and trash, and dispose of it in underground containers located on the sidewalks throughout the city. It is a remarkable way to deal with trash in urban areas. Here are some pictures is worth a thousand words.
Now that I’m home, I getting rid of more stuff. This massive purging, along with purchasing less, translates into less trash. And yet, we have to deal with it. Our town dump has all kinds of recycle bins, offering many ‘green’ opportunities. I put trash in a big garbage can and my husband takes it to the dump. Seems like a satisfactory solution for the suburbs. Living in Florence, however, you don’t need an outdoor garbage can. Individual households sort according to recyclables, organic and trash, and dispose of it in underground containers located on the sidewalks throughout the city. It is a remarkable way to deal with trash in urban areas. Here are some pictures is worth a thousand words.
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![]() Living-at-home includes attending the festivities of the town. Last evening I wandered about the 'Marche Francais"in the Piazza of Santa Maria Novella, with locals and tourists alike enjoying food and wine. I didn’t buy anything. I wasn’t hungry, and after purchasing alpaca yarn to knit an afghan, there is no room in my suitcase. But there is more to this refraining. I love salty, greasy food, but I try to say away from indulging. I also try to stay away from buying. There is too much stuff in the world, more than we need, but not distributed equally or fairly to the world’s people. In buying a piece of clothing, I add to the greed of the privileged by encouraging the fashion industry to manufacture more than we can physically use. Go into any store, in the U.S. or in Florence, and see more pieces of clothing than will ever be purchased. No problem, get rid of the excess somehow: change the current style, market using young bodies to express hope of a rich, carefree life, one that will forever remain young and sexy. And then there are leather stalls in Florence? If all those purses and coats are genuine leather, what about the animals? Where are they raised? How are the slaughtered? How are their carcasses disposed of? Sorry to burst your bubble, but all of this has to do with saving the environment. For the past seven years I have bought new few piece of clothing or other household items. Most of the gifts we give are from the put-and-take at our town dump. I travel instead. I am a little sorry that I bought that yarn for the afghan I’m knitting. There must be folks out there with stashes of yarn to share, and I can do with out alpaca. I’m learning. Botanical Garden of the Museum of Natural History Yesterday I walked twelve miles, resting for a while at the Botanical Garden of the Museum of Natural History of the University of Florence. Boboli Gardens Today so far, I’ve walked seven miles, which included these signs of spring at the Boboli Gardens. I took them especially for a few of my garden-loving friends. You might want to compare the same scenes that I took five weeks ago. ![]() My new plan to deal with stuff and dust is going along extremely well. I’ve only cleaned out one shelf, so in terms of volume I’m winning no simplicity award. However, my mind is clear of fretting and perseverating about the what, when, how, and where of it all. That is mental simplicity. As far as writing ‘Very Grateful’ is concerned, I doing a fair amount of thinking, which in the education field is called pre-writing. My plan is to open up the file and delve in when I return to the cottage on November 16th. For now I’m gathering grateful stories. My mom’s message lives on. The other day the 96 year old mother of a friend told me that since hearing of my mother’s final words, she has taken on naming gratitudes instead of worries when she wakes up in the middle of the night. How is that for mental simplicity? ![]() Again I’m dealing with all the stuff (and dust) in this house. I like to say that I want simplicity in my life to be represented by a very few things—two sets of dishes, three changes of clothing, the books I really will read-- which may be why I love being at the cottage. As you might imagine, the owner from whom I rent has things all over the place, but they aren’t mine to care for, consider, or even dust. Here at home, however, the responsibility is mine and my husband’s. It has come to me that I am dealing with a two-pronged concern. The first, and real one, is all the stuff. The second is all the thinking I do about the stuff, all the thoughts that consume my mind. Thoughts about too much stuff, the time it takes to deal with it, how and where to get rid of it, how to even begin….and on and on. The bottom line is that I just want all the excess stuff to go away. As I sit her writing, I realize that what is more important to me than simplicity of things is simplicity of thought about them. This morning, before 9AM, I organized the mud room. Summer towels to the attic, a mess of extension cords out to my husband’s work bench for him to deal with, books and white elephants bagged for the church fair. I did all this purging and organizing without preplanning or thinking. It was simple. My plan, after I post this on my cottagebythesea.net and lettingofstuff.blogspot.com blogs, is NOT to think about dealing with stuff until tomorrow morning, when I’ll take on some other area, perhaps just one shelf or drawer. Can simplicity of thought lead me to simplicity of things? ![]() Curiosity, hope, passion, courage, independence, self-discipline, and perseverance: Martin Dugard’s seven traits necessary for those who embrace the challenges of life, both as explorers out in the wilds, and as adventurers in mainstream of life out in the world. How do these apply to those of us who long for silence, solitude and simplicity? Here’s my take on my own sense of curiosity, which I humbly admit is probably my weakest trait. Truth be told, I’m not an incredibly curious person, at least not about the physical universe. Exploring the Nile would never be on my bucket list. Yes, I love to travel, but curiosity isn’t what gets me on a plane or down the river. But, I am curious, curious about God and how the Holy participates in my life: Why are we here? How did we get here? Is there a divine plan? What makes us content? What is the meaning of life, life in general and my life in particular? What should I do and how should I be to tap into this mystery? I’m curious about the part that silence, solitude and simplicity plays. Or, more accurately stated, I’m curious that silence, solitude and simplicity is absolutely essential to the exploration of these questions. Um, I do have an explorer’s curiosity. ![]() The Explorers; A Story of Fearless Outcasts, Blundering Geniuses, and Impossible Success, Martin Dugard maps the stories of some of the explorers of the Victorian age of discovery, 1799-1922. Throughout the book, he weaves the account of the search for the source of the Nile as seen through the ventures of Jack Speke and Richard Francis Burton, and of their competition to claim to be first to discover its source. Each story is framed through the lens of seven traits that Dugard believes vital to those who take such daring challenges. He then goes on to posit that these traits are present in all of us who dare step out of the particular box that keeps us from our own explorations. “These seven traits are also vital to all of us, in the challenges we face each day, as tools to help us through our own wilderness wanderings.” Here they are: curiosity, hope, passion, courage, independence, self-discipline, and perseverance. Which resonate with you? Which can you claim? Which do you lack? Which one do you long for? It’s time to begin. In the next few days I’ll post about curiosity ![]() I don’t consider myself much of a complainer, but right now I feel the need to mention my frustration with all the noise I experienced during my walk yesterday. Oh, I’ve talked about this before, which perhaps illustrates that my intensity of feeling isn’t simply that my silence was interrupted. It has to do with all the little things right along my street that contribute to global warming, that make it harder and harder to turn things around. What is frustrating (and sad) is that I am a part of the problem—so I have to admit that this complaint is directed to me, too. Yesterday it was the HUGE transport and garbage trucks shuttering by: it was the leaf blowers blocking out the bird songs: it was the sidewalk sweeper making the air unfit to breathe. What to do about this? Being part of the problem, how can I help change the course? Clearly it isn't about the noise. My husband takes our garbage to the dump, but we have our leaves blown, enjoy the swept walkways, and purchase food transported to the supermarket. And then, on top of all that, when I fly to Italy in two weeks so I can wander about it my own silence, solitude and simplicity, I will be depending on all that jet fuel, and more, to get me there. I feel helpless. The best I can do is hang out the laundry. ![]() Celebrate Earth Hour TODAY with millions of people around the globe by turning off your lights for one hour, beginning at 8:30pm. For more information, see www.earthhour.org/ AND www.worldwildlife.org/focusearthhour. Thousands of cities and towns in almost every country and territory in the world will participate. "Earth Hour is the single, largest, symbolic mass participation event in the world. Born out of a hope that we could mobilize people to take action on climate change." |
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