Got into a quick back and forth with my son the other day about what the world might look like in the future, and it left a vision in my head.
Now I dream of pastoral settings, renewable, sustainable technologies, and a continuation of today's reawakened interest in individuals creating art and music.
It begins with a realization that our way of life is facing a serious illness, yet we keep reaching for Band-Aids....
...and the thought that maybe when we want to be surrounded by nature, we really shouldn't have to go anywhere but out our front door.
I want to prop up my furry feet on a sustainably harvested wood stool, munch on popcorn originating from the stalks outside in my garden, and watch a movie on a screen developed from sustainable, cradle to cradle manufacturing, spending a quiet evening with friends in a cheery little solar powered hobbit house. (Well, with a bit higher roofline.)
And I'm in San Francisco.
Yeah, so goofy, I know. But the funny thing is, the crazy thing is, the wonderful magical transcendental thing is..if enough of us wanted this, we'd have it.
Let's stay in touch.
ON THE ADVICE of a new friend, I've been checking out the multimedia works of Karolina Sobecka. Her work, "NoWar The difficulty of change" seems pretty timely. And timeless.
My time in China was spent under a sky thick with smog, overseen by an orange sun.
Returned to the States and a welcome blue sky, thanking those with the foresight to improve and protect our air quality decades ago...for all of two days before the smoke from the fires crept in...
Read Cormac McCarthy's apocalyptic "The Road," in which the protagonists contend with a sky choked with smoke and ash and a lifeless earth...
Backpacked in the Sierra last weekend, where, at over 6,000 feet, an occasional shift in the wind would bring in more smoke from the fires down below...
Reluctantly left our mountain lake and the Plumas National Forest, eventually making our way along I-80 through the Central and Diablo Valleys, marveling at the multiplying malls and packed housing developments, closing the car vents to the thickening haze of smoke in the air...
And looked upon, once more, low on the horizon, scarred by power lines, another orange sun.
Let’s stay in touch.
By Kendra Smith
It’s finally summer. Magazine and newspaper articles have been touting it for a while now, with their advice on affordable vacations. “Take a road trip, it’s cheaper.” “No, don’t take a road trip, gas is too expensive. Take a package tour.” Now, with school out, graduations past, and the solstice upon us, it’s time to seriously think about some time off.
Thumbing through the Sunsets and Travel & Leisures lying in a pile on our living room floor (next to the overstuffed magazine bin; come to think of it, I should probably take a day off to clean those out), I realized I already have my own guide at hand. In our glove box, a little notebook from a small letterpress company in Petaluma, adorned with butterflies and the word “Observations.” My husband and I picked it up last year at a late spring street fair, to carry with us as we travel around the west and note places we want to go back to.
It has been handy, say, for keeping track of that little café we visit twice a year on the way to the Ashland Shakespeare Festival (Common Grounds, in Willows) and knowing just how far down Highway 1 you’ll find delectable berry goodness (Swanton’s Berry Farm, just past Davenport). We sleep under the stars and the next day note better campsites than the one we’re in—for next time.
So, as much as I like so-called “travel porn,” I’m going to look to my own observations for trips close to home this summer. And hopefully find something to leave undone for next year.
Let’s stay in touch.