As one local energy-conservation expert observed, "green" has become the latest fashion and the coolest trend. Businesses and governments want to make sure their customers and constituents know they're being green, even when their efforts don't add up to much when you look more closely. Ditto for "sustainability," another concept that's been commercialized and turned into a status symbol, according to more than one of the local experts Xpress quizzed.
"Sustainability isn't something to be had; it's a way we have to live," said Charlie Hopper, a longtime landscaper who partnered with a tech pal to create an iPhone application that's a mobile database of tree species (see "Botany Buddy: Plant Info For Your iPhone," Oct. 28 Xpress). Hopper, who majored in political science and philosophy in college, called sustainability "a false notion," remarking, "Nothing is sustainable. If you take 'utopia' and translate it from the Latin, it means 'nowhere.'"
If a landscaper designs a beautiful yard with native plants, rain gardens and other "green" touches, and then the homeowner loses his job and can't afford to maintain the yard — "That's not sustainable," said Hopper. "We have to start making sustainable choices, and consider what's the smallest impact we can make on the environment and still get what we need."
When Xpress asked Asheville GreenWorks Director Susan Roderick what being green means to her, a look of astonishment conveyed that she thought the answer should be obvious: "Trees!" The nonprofit started as (and still is) a tree-planting environmental group — Quality Forward — Roderick reminded us. But probing the thought more deeply, she echoed Hopper's point about choices: "I'm converting the upstairs of my [big Montford] house to an apartment. I don't need all that space. It's not sustainable!" She also joked, "Being green doesn't mean trading in your perfectly good car for a Prius."
RiverLink's Hartwell Carson pondered the question a moment, before saying, "It means something different to everyone, and everyone's trying to use 'green' to mean whatever they want it to mean. Being green, to me, means having as light of a footprint as you can." The French Broad Riverkeeper for the nonprofit, Carson emphasized, "One thing people forget about is their impact on water quality: You forget that when your can of oil leaks on the driveway, it gets washed away when it rains, and it ends up in our streams and river. Or when you take a long shower, you're wasting water."
Does he take short showers?
"I do, but really short, military three-minute showers aren't the total solution for Americans," he replied. Carson recommends doing better at recycling the natural resource, by collecting rainwater to water our lawns and flush our toilets, instead of wasting drinking water for those purposes.
Asheville-based climate expert Drew Jones said that each year, he tries "to do something that is meaningful and a little more green." In the last seven years, his family has switched out incandescent light bulbs for compact fluorescents, added insulation to their house, installed a solar hot-water and heating system, and set up power strips to cut off "phantom loads" to appliances that aren't in use. Jones has estimated a 42-percent reduction in energy use at his house since moving there in February 2002.
"My latest thing is solar, wind-powered clothes drying." Jones paused for effect, then explained: "A clothesline. No electricity. No natural gas. For me, I'm standing outside looking at the blue sky, standing in my garden. I'm slowing down. It's not going to work for us, long-term, to dig coal out of the West Virginia earth."
Sustainability and being green "is a way of living that's consistent with supporting the natural systems on which life depends."
But individual efforts like Jones' are just part of the answer, said building analyst Marcus Renner. He spoke to Xpress as we sipped some organic, fair-trade coffee, but observed that — given Jones' point that we get most of our electricity from fossil fuels — "The heat to warm this coffee is probably unsustainable. So ... should we stop drinking coffee?"
Such fine points demonstrate the quandary we're in, Renner argued.
The 35-year-old admitted he's been a bit pessimistic about our chances of stopping, much less reversing, global warming. "Everything the scientists have predicted, such as melting ice caps, has happened, only twice as fast," said Renner. "But we're not doing anything about it, and [our] children will be dealing with what we've created."
Reversing course, he said, will take concerted efforts on three fronts: First, on a personal level, each of us have to cut our energy use and reduce our carbon footprint by two-thirds. "Second, we've got to get the government involved to take drastic action, and third, we have to spread the word. As individuals alone, or groups and countries acting independently, we're not going to be able to do it."
The United States can "lead the globe" in addressing climate-change issues, said Renner. "We've done amazing things when we've put our minds to it, as we did in World War II, with the Victory Gardens and Rosie the Riveter. We have to start getting serious, and we need to pressure our lawmakers to make it happen."
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What does it means to me, an outdoor enthusiast, to be "green"? A solitary walk in the woods gave me the opportunity to answer.
For millennia, man has pondered the mysteries of the universe by journeying to such places as deserts and mountains, so in that spirit I began the short trek up Mount Pisgah, hoping to come across some insight of my own. After all, our 5,271-foot-high peak may have been named after the Biblical Mount Pisgah from whose crown Moses viewed the Promised Land. But whenever I head into the wilderness, those first moments create a weird space of time for me. As I leave my car and enter the woods, I'm slow to wade into the presence of this so-called "primitive area" and leave the sounds and signs of contemporary living behind.
My skin pricks with heightened awareness in the silence, reminding me that I'm being watched. I'm a visitor treading into the land of the wild, where in the absence of humans, critters and plant life make this wilderness their home.
Of course, my thrill-seeking side spurs me to charge up the mountain with a run, but I'm not far up the steep, rocky path when my lungs burn and my legs ache. I'm soon forced down into a walk on the leaf-strewn path, and even then my labored breathing continues. But that's when I really begin to look around and think of the forest as a system of perfection. The plants will soak up the carbon dioxide from my expired breath. And the leaves below my feet will decompose and feed the coming of the spring. It's one thing to read about this cycle of nature and the beauty it contains, but feeling the strength of its mechanisms right under your toes is another.
At an overlook, I pause to observe the blue-sky vista with renewed awareness. This isn't the first time I've felt this way, but the reminder is enough to inspire awe as I take a deep breath.
When I finally approach the observation deck at the summit, instead of staring out into majesty of the Blue Ridge Mountains as everyone else is doing, I look back at the metallic high-rise tower that caps most of Mount Pisgah's peak. I usually try to forget it's there. Why, I ask, would humanity allow the erection of such a hideous monster here, of all places?
Then I overhear one of the people on the deck telling his friend that he hates thinking about going back to work on Monday. That's the reality of human existence in the 20th Century: It takes a lot of towers and metallic junk to keep our cell-phone signals strong and our televisions and PCs connected, yet we feel the need to escape it sometimes.
On my way down, I pass a couple of folks, and I want to tell them that they're almost there. But they're focused on climbing the rock steps and making their journey. In the big picture, I realize, it's a monumental task to "strive to be green" during our life's journey on this planet, and actions speak louder than words.
While researching my Xpress assignments for this column, I've been fortunate to spend a great amount of time with naturalists, hikers, trail runners, cavers, mountain bikers and such. Most of them carry a deep respect for nature. And their love of the outdoors leads them, in their everyday lives, to make time to think about how their actions affect the environment and how to act accordingly. They tell me how powerful nature has been in their lives and the wonders it has done for their souls. I especially recall some of the folks from my "Wild Root Wannabe" article (June 3 Xpress) saying that if you listen, the forest will speak to you.
Even in my short time on Pisgah, I could feel the forest speaking to me too. Nature is, after all, a spirit guide. Some have named her Gaia and others let her go unnamed, but all are spoken to. I think the true path to being green, for me, is learning to listen.
And the rest of the lesson can't be found in writing and thinking. It must be heartfelt. At least, that's what the forest has
told me.
[Jonathan Poston lives and muses in these Southern Appalachian mountains.
I'm a visitor treading into the land of the wild.]
