Category Archives: Green Ideas

Smooth operator

A couple of years ago, after realizing just how much water ran down the drain (~ 26 gallons, based on national average shower head flow of 2.6 gallons per minute and 10 minutes to shave), I stopped shaving my legs in the shower.  26 gallons is a lot of perfectly good water to waste.  My new method uses a lot less water and is also a lot easier, because I don’t have to get in odd positions to keep the leg I’m shaving out of the water stream less all of the shaving cream wash off before I finish.  Instead, I fill the sink or a small container (should hold ~ 4 cups of water) with warm water and use that to wet my leg as well as rinse out the razor while I’m shaving.  I empty the container and get fresh water when I switch legs.  Once I’m finished shaving, I just splash a little fresh water on each leg (or use a wash cloth).

Make this simple switch to save 20+ gallons of water every time you shave your legs.  You’ll also save on your utility bill because all of the water you’re saving had to be heated first.

If you don’t have a yard . . .

Digging the rooftop gardens.

Green roofs are great because they turn an impermeable source of run-off water (i.e., a conventional roof) into a permeable surface that makes use of rain water.  Urban green roofs, like other green spaces, can reduce the urban heat island effect.  Finally, if you plant edibles, you have a source of healthy, local food!  Definitely a win-win situation.

‘Shrooms

There are three main options for eating local: grow it yourself, buy from local farmers, or go all hunter-gatherer.  I don’t know much about cultivating mushrooms, and some varieties can be pricey to buy, so we’re learning about the third option.  Foraging.

The interest began with a successful morel foray while camping in southeast Iowa in 2008.  This year, we joined our local mycological society to learn more about edible mushrooms in our area: where to look, when to look, and how not to die.

At this time of year, morels are long gone.  The heat and humidity of summer mean chanterelles around these parts, and rumor has it they’re just getting started.  Did I mention the heat and humidity?

On three separate occasions, we’ve foraged enough for a nice meal.  We saute them in butter and/or olive oil with garlic chives.  We’ve eaten them on toast, over couscous, and in scrambled eggs.  Of the three, my vote goes to the couscous con chanterelles.

In which panic obscures clear thinking and my eyesight

As soon as the waitress (or owner?) placed the dish in front of me, I was fairly certain that I would be taking some food home with me.  And I thought, “Well, it’s a Chinese restaurant, so they’ll have those nice little cardboard boxes.  Still disposable, so not as good as, say, bringing my own reusable container, but a lot better than styrofoam.”

Fast forward to the end of the meal.  It’s a small restaurant and we’re standing at the counter to pay.  I ask for a box and then see the huge pile of styrofoam, and the woman reaches for one.  I start to panic.  What to do?  Do I take the styrofoam or do I say no thanks and waste the food?   I really want to take the food home with me — it was good and I hate wasting food — but I also hate styrofoam.  Dilemma.  Which is the lesser of two evils?

At which point my non-panicking companion says, “Could we please have one of the little cardboard boxes?”

To Go Box

Maybe if I had taken a deep breath, I would have seen the cardboard boxes, too.  Crisis averted.

Score one for the green team

After two days without my bike commute due to the presence of torrential downpours (as predicted in climate change models for this region), I went for a little run around my neighborhood last night.  On the home stretch, about a block from the apartment, I passed a small group of people having a chat on off to one side of the sidewalk.  On the other side of the sidewalk, in the street, there was a parked SUV with no one in it, but the engine was running.  (Read my feelings about vehicles idling here.)

I ran past, and when I reached my apartment, I decided I could not in good conscience let that go, and, anyway, I needed a little walk as a cool down.  So I turned around and walked back up the block.  The encounter ensues:

I approach the group and say, “Excuse me, but I’m assuming this vehicle here that’s running belongs to one of you?”
Man says, in a somewhat sheepish voice, “Um, it’s mine.”
I say, “If you’re going to be parked for longer than 30 seconds, you’ll save on gas money and reduce pollution if you turn your vehicle off.”
Man says, “Okay,” walks over to SUV, reaches in through open window, and turns it off.
With a quick “Thanks,” I jog off into the night.

It’s not always that simple, but sometimes it is.