{c post} One Person’s Guide to Reusable Bags

My woven basket bag.  I love its organic look, its versatile double-length handles, and its generous size and shape.  And, I love that it is attractive enough to hang up out in the open, as if it were part of the home décor, that way I remember to take it with me when heading out to run errands.

Within the bag, however, hides a mess of even more bags.

The Canvas Totes

I usually have 2 of these with me.  I have been using them for years—and it shows.  They are beaten up, marked and the handles are now fraying.  Let’s imagine those 2 totes have replaced 4 plastic bags each week at the grocery store.  That’s 208 bags each year.  I have had them for 8 years.  That adds up to 1,664 plastic grocery bags.  (And that counts only the grocery store.  The plastic-bag-savings increase when factoring in other purchases: clothing, hardware, virtually any other commercial business.)

The Zippered Mesh Bags

I have 4 of these.  I use them in the produce department for loose carrots, potatoes, lettuce, etc.  I have had these for a couple of years.  Doing the math: that comes out to replacing 208 plastic produce bags each year for a total of 416 bags for the 2 years.  (Note: there are many things that, when only buying one, can forego a bag altogether—melons, squashes, turnips, rutabagas.  Simply place those items in your cart—no bag.)

The Lightweight Cloth Bags

I sewed several open-ended, simple cloth bags (two matching rectangular pieces sewn on three sides)—nothing fancy—from an old crib sheet.  I finished the edges by cutting them with pinking shears to reduce fraying.  (People who are more sew-ilogically-inclined could enhance this basic design, if desired.)  These are for bulk* items (pasta, baking soda, cereal, nuts, chocolate chips).  Buying in bulk using reusable cloth bags means no package waste for me.  I empty the contents in my jars, wash the cloth bags, if necessary, and replace in my big woven bag.  In addition to the bulk aisle, these cloth bags have come in handy when I have run out of mesh bags in the produce department.  I usually use them for smaller items, like bunches of cilantro or parsley.  Let’s say I averaged 5 bags each week for the year that I have had them.  That adds up to 260 empty packages, destined for the trash can, which I have avoided.

Multi-Purpose Decorative Bags

Last fall, at a New-To-You offering at the church, I found some bits of brightly-colored fabric that I thought I would do well made into multi-purpose bags.  I have used these bags in our Christmas stockings, so Santa could collect all the bulk candy he wanted to share without the packaging.  I have used them to wrap gifts, to carry snacks/lunches, to carry a few personal items to the fitness center, to buy in bulk, to carry a change of clothes for my potty-training little one, to be a “purse” for the same little one to carry a few of her treasures.  They are not the most ideally-engineered bags, and I plan on making a few tweaks, but they have worked well to help us reduce our garbage.

These are my bags.  Some are cute.  Some are ugly.  All are functional.  All of them have contributed significantly to my low-waste lifestyle.

*In addition to small- or moderate- sized area stores like Good Earth, Real Foods, and Sunflower Market, large stores like WinCo offer bulk food items.

{s post} Earth Day Introduction to a New Nature Contributor: This is Why

My name is ‘s’ and I am a new contributor to the desert green goddess blog. I like to write about the marvels of Nature—from the grandeur of natural cathedrals like Bryce Canyon National Park to the, yes, uninhibited sexual encounters of the humble housefly. It is these wonders that engage my senses and motivate me to live the way I do. By living in a way that emphasizes my interdependence with Nature, I can better see the big picture of why I bother finding alternatives to plastic wrap or why I try to reduce my use of and properly dispose of household hazardous wastes. My heart cringes at images of children in poor countries washing in and drinking from the same water that contains garbage, toxins, and human/animal waste. I look at my own children, delighting in our clean, thriving rivers, and feel a renewed desire to honor and protect the land--the land that houses us, feeds us, clothes us, and enchants us.  We live in a truly amazing world.

Take this photo, for example. When you first look down at the bank of the river, you see tree roots exposed by years of river erosion. Then you look closer. And you see the shape of the roots, the bleached color, the twist of the wood and the spider web catching the light. And then you think about spider webs and the fine craftsmanship involved and you recall that your son likes to share with others that, pound for pound, spider silk far out-performs steel in a test of strength. And then you notice how the afternoon sun bounces off the river rapids and swirling eddies. It’s beautiful.

My posts (somewhat inspired by SouleMama's simple "{right now}" style) will generally come in the form of a photo and a list of things that have me thinking, “This is why I do what I do.”

This is Why: Spring Break in the Canyon

. Sight—canyon trail, dusty in the open clearing, snow-covered or muddy in the shady evergreen forest, orange butterflies, chipmunks, birds, beetles, my children walking across a fallen log to perch on the boulder in the middle of the river

. Sound—whistling birds, staccato chirping of a chipmunk, rushing water pouring down mountain crevices during the spring snowmelt, voices of a couple of cyclists on the road, friendly conversation with another family on the trail, my children’s voices expressing the pleasure they feel in their surroundings

. Taste—trail snacks of rolls, pretzels, dried cranberries, raw almonds, and 2 little candies each

. Touch—“washing” our hands by rubbing gravel between them while pouring a little water from our bottles, the slipperiness of ice and the gooiness of the mud underfoot, the small, soft hand in my hand

. Smell—woodsy pine, fresh spring foliage, dampness

. Feel—gratitude to the father in the other hiking party (our Daddy had to work that day) who offered to carry my almost-3-year-old on his shoulders (to give me a break from having carried her on my hip most of the way up and half the way back), anxiety at balancing between careful, protecting parent and proud, encouraging parent as the kids teeter on the rocky river bank, peace in my head space brought on by natural sensory therapy, glad that the children only complain when it’s time to leave--they love the canyon trees, rocks, and river

Peace. Love. God. And Rainbows in My Nose.

(Note: Peace, Love and God are NOT in my nose. Just the rainbows are.)

If the symbolic color of *Earth* is green, then the symbolic color of *World* is purple. And, orange and pink and yellow.

The Festival of Colors is a culturally-Indian celebration of Spring that originated with Lord Krishna over 5000 years ago. Though I was not in attendance at that first festival (then again, maybe I was—it was so many lives ago that the details are little hazy), I was in attendance at the most recent one at the Krishna Temple in Spanish Fork, Utah—the location of the largest Holi Festival in the Western Hemisphere.

“Really?” you ask. “Utah?”

Yes. Head-scratcher, isn’t it?

This is what it is: it’s young Mormons getting their Woodstock-hippie on. Now, not everyone there was Mormon. And there were various ages and stages, including babies in strollers and front carriers. But, it WAS hippie-love-fest-esque.

Things you may not do on an average day of your life, you see yourself doing in the throes of passion the colorful mob incites—making your way to the middle of a dancing crowd of strangers, throwing your shoes on top of the roof, participating in the call-and-response frenzy directed by the band, crowd-surfing (and the touching of other people’s bodies in potentially, ahem, “special” places), throwing colored powder in people’s hair, and welcoming the same for your own.

It’s a funny crossroad. You arrive clean and straight-laced. You leave dirty and changed. At least a little bit.

What to expect:

People. Music. Grounds littered with empty plastic packets of powder. Temple walls decorated with powdered handprints. No water bottles. Skin. No booze or drugs—we only get high on life here, people. Getting jostled. Black boogers. Delicious-smelling food. Oh, and llamas.

What you may want to bring:

*Eyewear (be it glasses, sunglasses, swim- or ski-goggles)—will protect your eyes from inadvertent, yet inevitable, direct-hits.

*Airway filter (be it a bandanna, shirt, elasticized dust mask, or, since this is Utah and emergency preparation is one of the go-to hobbies, break out your gas mask and call it a dry run for the real thing)—will help prevent black lung during the scheduled mass color throwing. For those with sensitive respiratory systems, wearing protection the entire time is perfectly acceptable. Don’t worry that you’ll look like a square. You’ll look positively moronic. But it’s not the mask.

*Car seat protection (be it an old sheet, towel, blanket)—for the drive home.

[Speaking of the drive home . . . be sure to have your license and registration at the ready. And buckle up. The Festival is always a busy time for law enforcement and emergency responders. Being dredged in rainbow flour looks completely normal at the Festival. Looking like that while sobering-up over the 4-car accident you caused (that has the freeway at a standstill) looks dumb.]

*Limited possessions—cash only (and for me, lip balm) in a pocket. Leave as much as you can at home or in the car. No water bottles allowed inside. Though the Festival makes for spectacular pictures, take precaution with any cameras, electronics, etc. Protect such items somehow, because the powder is very fine and will find its way everywhere and anywhere. Nowhere is safe. Except maybe where the sun don’t shine. But, I don’t recommend keeping your camera there.

Don’t worry that it’s only for the young, crazy, hippies. They didn’t reverse-“card” me. And, they didn’t do a pat-down to see if I was trying to sneak in a bra.

This was not an earth-friendly affair. The grounds were covered with spent plastic packets of color. No need to go into depth on the air quality. It required more shower water than usual to clean up. And to get to the Festival—for those not in the immediate vicinity—it required a fossil-fueled vehicle.

And yet, I like to see it as a world-friendly affair. Earth and World—cousins walking hand in hand in this shared life. Stepping outside of our own world and into a country a half a world away, allows us to see why the “green” (environmentally-conscious) things we do matter not just in our stewardship to the earth, but in our stewardship to the world and its inhabitants. This Festival experience introduces thousands of people to another ethnic culture, another way of doing things, another way of celebrating, another way of worshipping. As we meet people with different perspectives we can expand the breadth and depth of our own life’s worship/philosophy. It would be arrogant to think that we have nothing more to learn from other people, other cultures, other countries, other belief systems, or non-belief systems.

In preparation for the last throw of colors for the evening, the man at the mic celebrated our uniqueness and our interdependence as a people—“where I am weak you are strong.” His enthusiasm for God and for God’s love for us was summed up in a phrase he repeated several times—“God. Loves. VARIETY!”

With that he started the countdown, we threw colors, screamed, and danced our welcome to Spring.

As we sat in the yellow-school-bus shuttle on our way back to the car, my husband turned and called my attention to the western sky. “*That’s* the last throw of colors for the night,” he said with his characteristic wit. The sunset, ablaze in color over the wide expanse of land, was stunning.

The final throw of colors belonged to God Himself.

. . . or HERself. Or the Gods. Or the Divine. Or the Universe. Or Mother Earth. Or the Source. Or the Cosmos.

Or the undercurrent of humanity that connects us all into One.

What do you do to celebrate the Earth-World relationship?

[There will be another Festival of Colors in Salt Lake City on Saturday, April 14^th. Click here for more information.]

{c post} Best Recycling Center in Northern Utah—Park City’s Recycle Utah

Recycle Utah is a recycling center in Park City that will open your eyes to all that can be recycled. Most (rough guess is 70%) of what Americans send to landfills can be recycled. By taking advantage of places like Recycle Utah, you can cut your waste dramatically and close the loop on resource production.

The folks at Recycle Utah have a passion for protecting the earth and improving resource efficiency. This means they provide recycling options for even those hard-to-recycle items. (“Hard-to-recycle” generally means “not-very-profitable-to-recycle.”) Through local sponsors and simple monetary donations, Recycle Utah can continue to provide this service.

Beyond the more common recyclables such as metal, paper and cardboard, there are bins for:

Glass—clear/green, brown, blue; Plastics—all labeled plastics #1-7; Plastic bags; Plastic caps (milk jugs, etc.)

And, then Recycle Utah takes it to another level with ways to recycle:

Photos, bike tires/tubes, cooking oils/bacon grease, Styrofoam, Tetrapaks (soy milk, rice milk, etc.), wine corks, and Terracycling items (candy wrappers, drink pouches, etc.), cds, cd cases

Try to find other area recycling centers that do that.

[The one thing that I wish I could find (and Recycle Utah doesn’t yet have an outlet for) is textiles recycling—holey socks, fabric scraps, stained clothing, quilt batting, yarn, etc.—synthetic fabrics, that is. If I have any cotton textiles I toss them in the compost bin.]

Associated with the recycling center is a warehouse offering building supplies at reduced cost—sinks, toilets, wood, cabinets, etc.

I live a 45-minute drive from Park City. Some might ask if the fossil fuels I use driving my car there (I take the sedan, not the truck), negate my recycling efforts. I haven’t crunched the numbers, but I still think that I am doing the right thing. Once you start down this path, it’s difficult to go back. The thought of sending stuff to the landfill that I KNOW can be recycled, gives me the heebie-jeebies. I turn the trip into an outing. Park City is a beautiful mountain destination after a scenic canyon drive. We sometimes go to the park or buy a caramel apple to share or meet friends for a picnic.

Each time I visit Recycle Utah, I am encouraged by how many participants are there. There are always cars coming and going. People walking back and forth, smiling, arms laden with items to recycle. There seems to grow a friendly kinship in our shared efforts to tend to the beauty and vitality of this beautiful state and its lands.

I love taking my children with me. It is an opportunity, each visit, to discuss what we are doing and why. Our discussions have ranged from environmental responsibilities to the origin of various resources and the processes by which they are created and then re-created. The kids enjoy figuring out what goes where, and sometimes fight about who gets to take the next load from the trunk of the car. Hands down, their favorite part is throwing glass into the large collection dumpsters and hearing that terrific crashing sound. My favorite part is seeing my children’s consciousness awaken, a little more each time.

[Location: The turn-off to get to the recycling center is across from the Park City cemetery. There is a green sign with the recycling symbol on it. Things to know before you go: though you can drop off most recyclables at the outside bins any hour of the day, the office, which houses some of the receptacles, is open only during standard business hours. Shipping glass to its recycling destination is costly. This is why finding a place to recycle glass in Utah is difficult; the cost cuts into profits. Though you do not have to pay to drop off your glass, if you have a spare buck or two in your wallet, consider adding it to the donation box to help offset the costs for Recycle Utah.]

(Just read the latest on a new, uh, *uplifting* program they, ahem, *support.* Bra recycling.)

See the slideshow below for a mini-tour.