Back To Basics

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Large-scale energy development has come to some of my favorite woodlands.

You may have heard about unconventional natural-gas drilling from the movie "Gasland" -- a documentary recently aired at select venues and on HBO. (I've not seen the movie, but I don't need to...I'm already distraught over the issue.)

Last week, the editor of the Eastern Pennsylvania Business Journal printed my commentary piece for his audience of business owners in the Lehigh Valley (PA). I am grateful to him for agreeing to further the conversation about this issue effecting anyone who loves the woods, parks, open spaces, gamelands and streams that cover the Marcellus Shale.

Read the Article Here

I don't deny that our society needs gas and money, but more importantly, we simply cannot survive without clean water and healthy natural places.

When you first meet someone, they tell you their name. Afterward you can say that you know them, you have met them, and they stand out from the other strangers that come and go.  Curiosity leads you to then ask questions about someone you would have otherwise ignored. A connection is made.

The same is true when you walk through the woods or open field. It is the plants whose name I know that catch my attention. I now pat the large beech tree as I pass after my friend David taught me to recognize it's elephant-like bark  I bend down to examine the little Rue-anemone flower after Val acquainted us years ago. The chipmunks and squirrels are many, but they are not strangers because I know their name.

Now my skill for name recall is weak, so while I may not remember every name or pinpoint how I met each one, the ones to which I've been acquainted stand out just the same.

This is not a chore; there will not be a test. It's just a reminder that the first step in developing a connection is learning someone's name. To know the community is to go out and learn who lives there. You can look them up in the book or have someone personally introduce you. Only then will you have crossed the threshold from being a stranger to becoming a friend.

In the comical movie, "Night at the Museum 2: Battle of the Smithsonian" historical museum exhibits come to life during the overnight hours. Theodore Roosevelt (Robin Williams) and Napoleon Bonaparte (Alain Chabat) wake up and move as night watchman Larry Daley (Ben Stiller) and Amelia Earhart (Amy Adams) try to protect legendary characters from being boxed up and replaced by new, hologram exhibits.

 

During their quest to keep the figures alive, the couple receives a riddle that must be solved. They immediately run to the "Thinker" (no actor name; just animated stone) to see if the famous statue -- sitting on a rock in deep thought, resting his chin in his hand -- could think through to the solution.

 

When I watched this part of the movie, my mind wandered: who sits and thinks anymore?

 

The artist Auguste Rodin created The Thinker (a.k.a., The Poet) during a time when people had to rely more on their own intellect and meditation to solve problems. The Internet didn't tell them what to do, global information wasn't instantly available, and a device for every problem didn't exist.

 

Contemplation is not extinct, but it is getting rare, and its scarcity only hurts our quality of life. The Internet is not always right nor is the information pertinent or devices useful. In the museum, the Thinker was of no help; he was stuck in thinking mode. But in life, taking the time to ponder can be the difference between finding a meaningful path and one that is a whirl of senseless activity.

 

No man-made hologram can replace the beauty and wonderment that is our own experience, but we will never see that unless we take the time to sit on a rock and think about it.

Today the famous puppet, Kermit the Frog, might sing, "it's a little easier being green." Or would he?

Kermit was born in 1955, and he grew up green during a time when there were no green products, green designs, green houses or green people. The only green jobs were those performed by folks like landscapers, nurserymen, arborists and farmers who had to work with nature to grow healthy plants.

When Kermit reached 18, people were talking a lot about the environment. Powered by a shortage of oil and a nuclear catastrophe, their conversations carried on for a few years, but it didn't last. Earth-assault practices prevailed.   

In the 1990s, the group called the U.S. Green Building Council began using his skin color to describe shelter construction that was friendlier to the environment then the typical building. Green meant the man-made habitat was healthier for inhabitants and operated in better synergy with nature. In and beyond the construction industry, green became a powerful, smart word.

Imagine. Kermit's color was suddenly powerful, smart and hip. He wasn't really sure how to act after 40 years living as an outcast.

He found shelves filled with more products wearing green costumes every time he hopped to the store. Instinct helped him recognize the imposters.

Today, thanks to more oil and energy production catastrophes, he hears humans talking about the environment once again. His worries about his friends and family members who are suffering in oil-slicked swamps.

Kermit understands that wearing green skin requires sacrifice. He can't shed it in the name of convenience nor take it off when everyone else is wearing polka dots. His home is cleanest when he doesn't clutter it with a bunch of stuff no matter how green the label wrapped around the purchases.

Kermit knows who his real friends are -- those who stood up for him when no one else would. Like a rock star who has made it to the top, he has to be careful to remain true to himself and his pond. It may be more popular, but it still isn't easy being green.

You may have read the flyer. You may have seen the signs. Philadelphia's PECO electric company wants your old refrigerator.

PECO Appliance Recycling

During the many years I've been involved in environmental conservation, I've come to realize how delicate diversity is. Just like every big-box shopping center looks the same in the concrete jungle, if left unchecked, every field and wooded space can quickly be taken over by just one or two forms of plant life.

When one plant takes over all the others, it is referred to as an invasive species. Botanical diversity is important because not all wildlife and insects require the same food and habitat. Rogue plants also wipe out the more delicate varieties that make our world beautiful.

King among invasives in the Northeast is multiflora rose. In fact, it is such a significant problem it is labeled as a noxious weed.

Even though the blossoms are fragrant, and the birds love to nest in the thorny brush, the rose must be controlled, or it will be the only thing growing. A big reason why there is now so much multiflora about is because farmers were once encouraged to plant it as a habitat border around their fields. Today those same farmers are ripping it out, and they have the scratches to prove it.

There is much debate about the best way to kill this weed. Even chemical-hating environmentalists will break out the Roundup to get rid of the rose. But the main reason for this post is that I just noticed the multiflora near me is starting to bloom. Since flowers become seed and seed becomes plant, it's time to get chopping.

If you are already battling this monster, you're probably groaning in despair. Just keep in mind that there is no greater enemy to noxious weeds than perseverance. At the very least, put on your armor, grab your weed wacker and snip the buds off. The rest can be left to cut back in the fall when the forbidden Roundup can be painted onto the stumps for the most efficient absorption into the root system.

Don't let your multiflora roses go to seed. And remember, you're fighting for the favorites like Jack-in-the-pulpit and flowering dogwoods as you engage in the war of the roses.

A lovely woman asked me this question recently, and I still laugh to myself when I remember my answer. It was, "no."

It just flew out of my mouth. While I had no interest in the multi-level marketing business that she wanted me join, I of course would like to add to my income. She asked a trick question.

Then I came home to find a writing gig like no other.  A Taste of Home Magazine and Ziploc®  want to award someone $25,000 for their good idea.

Their Website says, "Do you have a creative way you use Ziploc Brand Bags or Containers? Tell us about your everyday solution in 100 words or less and you could win!  Entries submitted via the internet must be received by June 30, 2010...Winners will be notified on August 16."

Do you want to add $25,000 to your income at a rate of $250 per word?  Um....yes.  However, I don't think they'll want to hear about how I wash out my lightly used bags and containers in an attempt to buy fewer Ziplocs. So, if you've got a clever idea, give it shot:
Contest Website

A recent project took me to a suburban backyard to learn about monarch butterflies.  I was fascinated.

So often we see the monarch's golden wings fluttering around in the summer heat. Their story is a metaphor for the possibilities that come from metamorphosis -- a change -- and it's hard to see a butterfly without smiling. Did you ever wonder where they go or how they survive?   If so, here are a few monarch facts that I either never knew or had forgotten:

• Monarchs depend on milkweed and thistle to survive, not because the adults eat the nectar, but because the female lays her eggs on the leaves which are then eaten by the emerging caterpillar.

• The caterpillar lives only 10 days as voracious eater, devouring two full milkweed leaves each day.

• A butterfly roosts at night when the temperatures drop. It folds up its wings and blends into its surroundings. It will fly again as soon as the temperature warms.

• Birds do not eat butterflies because the milkweed in the butterfly's system is poisonous.
  
  
• You can touch a butterfly's wings without harming them.
  

• A caterpillar transforms into a pupa, and after just four days, emerges as a full-sized, adult monarch.

• There are four generations of butterflies born every year. Ones born early in the season live about two to five weeks; those born in September are considered the migrating generation. They may live up to nine months in which time all the monarchs from the Eastern seaboard travel to central Mexico for the winter. When they return, they lay their eggs. This generation is responsible for the species' survival.

• As pollinators, monarchs are important to our food supply.  

• Severe storms occasionally reduce the population, but more frequent storms, habitat destruction in Mexico, and fewer weeds left to grow in our backyards are cause for concern.

Want to learn more about these beautiful and beneficial insects?  Check out: http://www.fs.fed.us/monarchbutterfly/index.shtml

Want to know more about the suburban backyard I visited? Check out http://marvelousmonarchs.wikispaces.com/

I recently talked at length with an experienced arborist to write an article about tree care for commercial property owners. In short there are a lot of property maintenance personnel out there who are doing it wrong -- very wrong -- to the detriment of the trees.

I thought you too might like know the five most common malpractices so that you don't carry them home from work to your own backyard. 

Take a look:

http://www.thewritebeat.com/TreeCare.html