OK, in the vein of full disclosure, I am uneasy being green or labeled as politically correct. The risk of hypocrisy is just too great. I can picture myself at the end of my life standing in front of Ed Begley Jr. guarding the Green Gates of Heaven. He’ll pull at his long white beard and say something like “…hmmm, she did replace her front lawn with drought-tolerant plants, but did you see what she has in the back? For shame!” The trap door in the clouds would open and down I would tumble into Climate Change Hell.
That said, I care deeply about my environment. I’m kind of a hot house flower. While I realize that the earth does not need me (or any other human), I desperately need it to be a certain way for life to be bearable. I require sun and living things and quiet for me to thrive and be creative. This is why I garden. It makes me happy–the doing of it, and the outcome. I love surrounding myself with plants and trees and flowers. I love watching insects and birds. Once my environment is just so, I am free to make art. And that makes me happy too. With any luck, my doing these things, mostly for selfish reasons, will make other people happy.