We spent the weekend with our daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren. Great fun hearing Colin as percussionist for the high school musical “Honk”.  Yorkshire pudding and roast beef was outstanding. Emily and I went to the outlets and I bought a couple of outfits for some upcoming events—a memorial service, a wedding reception, and my trip to Florence next month. And of course, I needed some comfortable walking shoes.

    All of this shopping was fun and satisfying; I don’t regret any of my purchases. But now, here I am sitting on the deck at the cottage, wearing the same pants, shirt and sweater that I do every day when I’m here, trying to make sense of my clothes, both new and old. Where is the balance between this simple, solitary life, where I spend more and more of my time, and my social life, which is still a part of who I am? How important are clothes to me?

      When I was teaching I loved buying a new outfit to wear in the classroom—nothing like a kindergarten wardrobe! Then, as a hospice spiritual care counselor I had my appropriate bereavement outfits. Two ends of the spectrum with other outfits for all those in between times! Nowadays I have fewer opportunities to get dressed up at all. Truth be told, if I live to be 101 and never buy another piece of clothing, I’ll probably have enough. But some part of me still wants something new, still wants to dress up. And then there is the flip side, the side that doesn’t want to look like a bag lady, doesn’t want to appear in the same pants, shirt and sweater every day when I go to the supermarket, nor in the same dress at every social event. Shoes are different—they are in the category of comfort—well not entirely.

    That’s what’s running through my mind about it all at the moment, but I am also well aware that there are other issues that I haven’t touched on—natural fabrics… fair trade products… gratitude that I can afford to buy something new…. And then there is that perennial fundamental question: How much is enough? None of this is simple.

I am participating in a Ecumenical Lenten Carbon Fast sponsored by the United Church of Christ. Along with the specific suggestion that pops up on my screen every morning, I am also told to share what I’m doing with someone else and invite them to join me. So here I am, doing just that.

      When I think of fasting as ‘holding onto’ something, I’m reminded that I want to hold onto my commitment to hang my laundry to dry and thus use my dryer less. This morning it’s a challenge. After all, daylight saving time has just robbed me of a precious hour. How pathetic is that for an excuse? Very. Rachel Carlson would approve of my simple way.

I have to mention the weather; certainly nothing to be ignored here in the Northeast. At the cottage (and at home) the driveway has been plowed, and then plowed again and then again. I’ve shoveled morning, noon and night. People are tired of snow, and more snow, and then again some more; and they have their good reasons. I, too, for the inconvenience of it all. My mom often announced, “We aren’t in charge of the weather.” How true, how true.

    But there are gratitudes to be gleaned: the sheer beauty of it all; no summer drought; that I can afford to pay someone to plow; that I am healthy enough to shovel. Those are mine.

As I drove up here the other day I promised myself that I wouldn’t take as many pictures of the sunrise. I must have 1000 stored on my computer, and that ought to be enough. But no; promise broken. Each view is the same, but oh so different--different hues, clouds, water, time and location on the horizon. Each sunrise is of the moment, of what is there, and what I see on this given day. The sun will never arise or appear again as it does today, which is why I sit for an hour and watch. Awesome.

I try not to whine or complain in this blog. In fact I like to think I’m not that kind of person… but of course I’m like all the rest of us! Here’s my rant for today. This is the second morning this week that our neighborhood silence has been interrupted by leaf blowers across the street. The other morning at 7 AM they were at the library, today, 8:30 on a Sunday, at the little shopping center. The hum is deafening. Do I live near an airport?    

     I have to admit that we use a blower for our leaves. It’s the New England way. The leaf from the log is definitely in my own eye. Still, I hate the noise.  

What a way to end a day.

Solitary walks produce unexpected surprises. I’m not saying that companion walks don’t offer the same, but walking alone, my eyes and ears stay focused outward. Today was a day of animals, from ducks, to cats, to chickens, to butterflies, to lizards.

      My first surprise was a squawking duck (goose?) on the wall along the Arno. He was talking up a storm, perhaps a little (or a lot) afraid that he had strayed from the riverbank where he lived with his buddies and didn’t know how to get home.

     Next, along the path to the Piazzale Michelangelo, behind a fence and bushes two women were tending to cats in little ‘red cross’ boxes. Evidently I had come across, among other things, a shelter for stray cats.  

A rooster and hen were also enjoying themselves in the same enclosure further up the path.

Not to be outdone, a butterfly felt quite at home with me on the path. 

And finally, among the gravestones at San Miniato, a lizard was sunning himself.

I sleep while the city remains awake. That’s the way it’s always been with me, from my earliest memories. This morning at 6:30 I lay in bed deciding that I would walk up to Piazzale Michelangelo, but when I opened the windows and shutters, all I could hear and see was rain. Ah, but I have an umbrella, so off I went on an early field trip  in a combination of rain, drizzle, or no precipitation at all.

   I took these pictures between 7:15 and 8:30. Then I stepped into my neighborhood church, Santa Trinita, for a bit and when I came out, there was sun and blue in the sky and people on the street. But, my longing for silence and solitude had been nourished.

Here’s a summary of things to do to lower your carbon footprint. It’s from Barbara Kingsolver’s marvelous book, Flight Behavior, a story sent in the Tennessee Appalachian mountains; story of a young mother; a story of climate change, a story of the flight behavior of butterflies.

    How am I doing, I ask myself? Answer: I have a long way to go, but at least I’m conscious. I don’t buy bottled water (except for an occasional sparkling water), I put-and-take at the local dump, I hang most of my laundry, and very seldom use the dishwasher. I love the idea of taking my coffee mug, cutlery and Tupperware when I go out to eat. We keep a cold house in the winter and in the summer run our bedroom window air conditioner only about eight or ten nights.

     Although there’s nothing more yummy than a medium-rare hamburger cooked on the grill, but I could let that one go. Money management isn’t my job, but I’ll check it out. I love public transportation, but there isn’t much of it around here. I have to drive twenty minutes to the nearest stop to catch the T into Boston.

     I must confess that driving back and forth to the cottage by the sea all winter does not help my carbon footprint, although once I’m there I hardly ever hit the road. But the ‘Fly less’ idea is not a happy thought for me. I’m going to Italy on Sunday, and flying is my only option. Yes, I have a long way to go!

     The irony of all this is that Dellarobia, the protagonist in Flight Behavior, scores high. She doesn’t have a long way to go because she can’t afford to; she doesn’t go out to eat; she shops exclusively at second-hand stores; stocks and mutual funds, what are they?; no computer; cool house; husband’s truck is on its third motor; excellent well water; the red meat she eats is from the sheep that the family raises on the farm. As far as  ‘fly less’ is concerned, she’d probably say, ‘fly never.’  

Category One: Food and Drink
• Bring your own Tupperware to a restaurant for leftovers, as often as possible.
• Try bringing your own mug for tea or coffee.
• Carry your own cutlery, use no plastic utensils.
• Carry your own Nalgene bottle instead of buying bottled water.
• Try to reduce the intake of red meat in your diet.

Category Two: Everyday Necessities
• Try to buy reused.
• Plan your errand route so you drive less.

Category Three: Financial
• Switch some of your stocks and mutual funds to socially responsible investments.

Category Four: Home/office
• Make sure computers get recycled.
• Turn off your motor when not in use.

Category Five: Household
• Switch your light bulbs to CFL. Upgrade to energy-efficient appliances.
• Set your thermostat two degrees cooler in winter and higher in summer

Category Six: Transportation
• Ride your bike or use public transportation
• Buy low-emission vehicle
• Properly inflate your tires and maintain your car.
• Fly less.