The Guv says if we’re to survive the summer of being powerless we must conserve energy. This will help him out of his political morass while he fast-tracks (that’s Guvspeak for environmental bypass) construction of new power plants, the resurrection of old decrepit ones and the building of more oil refineries.
Meanwhile, the Vice President says conservation doesn’t cut it. We need to drill, drill, and drill our way to energy independence. And the President says he doesn’t give a rodent’s rear about global warming, so we’re not going to curb our carbon dioxide emissions no matter what the rest of the world thinks.
But what they’re all really talking about is how to beat the price, short- and long-term, and nary a word about saving the planet.
Lost in the debate over who is to blame for the soaring price of gasoline, natural gas, electricity and every commodity that owes its being to any kind of fossil fuel, is the fact that there’s a finite supply of the stuff.
A scientist I know well says people forget the earth is a closed system. Every lump of coal, every barrel of oil and every drop of water that ever was or ever will be are already here. It all just changes form. The scientist says conservation is not a quick fix; it’s a way of life. She not only recycles everything, she buys recycled everything. She uses canvas shopping bags, cloth napkins, doesn’t buy products made with rainforest wood, doesn’t buy food that’s shipped long distances. She writes phone messages and grocery lists on tiny scraps of paper, filters the tap water instead of buying designer water in bottles. She inspires me. She gives me her Real Goods catalog.
So now I own a dozen earth-friendly energy savers: a solar powered gizmo that emits obnoxious noises underground driving voracious gophers from the garden (beats using exhaust fumes from the old ranch pickup to gas them); an indoor sonic pest repeller (no more exterminator spraying toxic chemicals); a 60-gallon rain barrel made of recycled plastic; a manual weed whacker; a rotating compost bin; a medieval bug catcher (made of recycled bottle glass); a solar mosquito repeller; a skinny watering wand that recoils itself and wastes not a drop; a solar oven (basically a foil-lined box with a sloping glass top); shade cloth for the south-facing patio and flexible screens for the patio doors.
It takes about a week to figure out how to work all this stuff, but I’m saving money on the power bills, I think, and polluting a bunch less.
Actually, the rain barrel is back ordered, but it’s not likely to rain any time soon.
So I put up the screen and open my door to catch the evening breeze. It works, even though there’s a tiny gap at the weighted hemline, and the temperature is dropping four degrees every 20 minutes or so. No more air conditioner for me, no siree.
I’m sitting on my couch reading and feeling very smug when I detect a quick little motion out the corner of my eye. Ohmagawd, it’s a tiny field mouse dashing behind the library cabinet. It must be the damn screen. I’ve never had mice in here–in the garage maybe, but not in here.
I go to the garage and wake the gray cat. The orange one is a better hunter but he’s nowhere in sight. I shut the door. Mouse may have friends out there, and it’s cool enough already. I position Cat facing the library. Cat gets up and cases the room, sniffing here and there. I reposition Cat who assumes sphinx-like posture staring into space. Mouse darts out and back several times. Cat stares but doesn’t move. Soon Mouse makes a beeline for the other corner where the radiant heaters sit just off the floor. This becomes the rodent raceway, back and forth, behind the file boxes, over the desk, in and out the computer cables. I reposition Cat, who reassumes sphinx posture, purring. Mouse makes a pass, just inches from Cat’s whiskers. Cat’s tail twitches. I move the file boxes, pick up the computer cables, and retrieve a broom and the shop vac from the garage. Good hunter kitty is still not around. Somewhere, I have some glue boards, but where?
Cat has taken the high ground, statue-like with front paws outstretched, on the arm of the couch. Cat’s tail is not twitching. Cat’s eyes are closed. Mouse is back behind library, poking head out every few minutes. I move shop vac into position, turn on motor. Cat blinks.
Mouse doesn’t react to the noise. Maybe the sonic pest control thing has damaged its hearing. Mouse darts out, I thrust vac wand forward, Mouse darts back. The mouse-and-vac dance continues for the better part of an hour. Cat observes. I’m exhausted. Mouse miscalculates–a desperate plunge meets its mark. Mouse disappears. With the power still on, I push the shop vac outside, way outside, then pull the plug. I evict Cat, collapse on the bed and reflect. I probably used as much power to run the vacuum as the air conditioner. Oh, well, tomorrow the glue boards and re-fit the screen. Hey, I’m saving the planet.