I just finished my ecological footprint quiz. I'm pleased that I came in below the country average: carbon --73.2 compared to 91.4, food --41.4 compared to 65.7, housing --19.4 compared to 31.6, goods and services --23.1 compared to 57.7. That last one will surprise many who know me --because I love my stuff! However, I have a lot of family hand-me-downs/heirlooms and love antique stores and thrift shops.

Now, here's the scary thing. Even though my footprint is below the national average, it would take 4 1/2 earths to sustain everyone on the planet living like me. Yikes! As a global community, humans are currently averaging around 1 1/2 earths. Big difference --and I'm lower than the average in the U.S.

In some respects there isn't a whole lot I can do. I live in an apartment complex --so I can't alter my dwelling --I'm stuck with what I have. For my electrical and water needs I am stuck with whatever is available to me locally, and as far as I know, Collier County isn't exactly leading the way with alternative fuel technologies. However, I can bring my reusable thermal cup and water bottles with me --which I already do --I even bring my own spoon for stirring my tea. I can bring my canvas bags to more places --not just the grocery store. I can use longer life light bulbs. I can install a water-saving device in my toilet (I saw this on a re-run of Home Improvement on TV Land). I can also take a 4 minute shower --you can even get a little hour glass to put in the shower to keep time. This last one could be hard though. The hot water feels good on my fibromyalgic muscles. And I could go back to recycling my cooking water. I do it to a certain extent now, but I could do more. I can't do a whole lot about how much I drive. There aren't public transportation options here. I attend school in another city, but if my grad school plans go well --I shouldn't have such a long commute. Now that the weather is hospitable in Florida I could bicycle to the grocery store and pharmacy --but I am afraid for my life on the roads. I had a woman run me off the road and into a pole with her SUV once. However, I always combine my errands as much as possible.

Now, I intend to send the link to the ecological footprint quiz to everyone I know. You do the same. Make your friends and family take it --get the word out --don't let just the media and business marketing campaigns inform them. Here's the link: ecologicalfootprint.org.

I am skipping the one due 8 February for the moment --we are supposed to take the "Ecological Footprint" quiz on myfootprint.org. I want to devote my full attention to it, so let me get the next entry out of the way.

We are supposed to reflect on the National Geographic Strange Days series --episode 2 --"The One Degree Factor".

In class of late we have been focusing on how just a one degree Celsius increase in temperature can radically change the world. This is a frightening concept as we are currently faced with a warming world.

"The One Degree Factor" focused on changes in habitats both positive and negative due to changes in temperature. Most interesting I thought was the investigation into the increase in asthma related illnesses and diseases affecting the fan coral in the Caribbean. They linked these with Sahara dust blown over from Africa. Though this dust had been blowing over the Atlantic for millennia, there was suddenly a wealth problems. The search took us to Lake Chad in Nigeria, where the lake is now 1/20 of the size it used to be. Fishing and pleasure boats rested forgotten in the sands of a newly arid land. Then, because of the warming of the Indian Ocean and also an increased build-up of CO2 in the atmosphere, the North Atlantic Oscillation has become stuck in its intense phase for the last twenty years. This all means that more dust is blowing over to the Americas and blowing for longer periods than before.

There are many, I think, who don't believe that what they do matters anywhere else, and that what others do is someone else's problem. This episode showed me that now, more than ever, we have to think as a global community. If you have anyone in your life who seems to eschew helping the environment, sit them down in front of "Strange Days". tell them there will be a quiz after.

For this entry we must reflect on our Marjorie Stoneman Douglas readings from her legendary "River of Grass".

I love her. She is so poetic and had a true love of the Everglades. She did such a brilliant job creating the mystical world of the Everglades in a way that made them matter to so many. In "The Nature of the Everglades" and "The People of the Glades" she writes of all the elements that make up the everglades --the vast "velvet" expanses of saw grass, the water, the rock, and the river that connects it all. She describes the many animals and some of the early settlers that have made the Everglades home and how the cycle of life is ever important to the existence of everything.

As I read this magical work, languishing in a chaise lounge near the pool, I thought back to a rainy October afternoon in Micanopy near Marjorie Stoneman Douglas' home. I visited Payne's Prairie Preserve --Florida's first state preserve and a national natural landmark. There are wild horses and bison there. Though all of them seemed to be seeking shelter from the rain that day, so I didn't spy any of them. The only ones to brave the elements that day were a school group and myself. While the middle school kids were touring the visitors' center, I wandered off into a quiet patch of wood. I had been away from people for a few days and I took comfort in the noise of the kids, but there was a special quiet to that wood.

I stood at the bank of a stream and listened to the water trickle by me. At some point, I heard a rustle behind me. Feeling rather cautious as a single woman traveling on her own, I turned around quickly and came face-to-face with --a deer. We were nose-to-nose and eye-to-eye. Though hers were the more beautiful: so big and brown with soft framing lashes. We stood there, just the two of us, in that quiet darkened wood for a long while while thunder rumbled i the distance. I wanted to reach out and stroke her soft snout, but didn't want to frighten her. After awhile, I sensed that she wanted to leave, but didn't want me to see her. I turned and faced the stream again, my back to the elegant beast. I heard a light rustle again, and when I turned around she was gone. There was no sign of her, though I had only had my back turned for a moment. I thought perhaps I had seen a ghost.

Of course my deer companion and her clan could well become ghosts in the not so far off future. Douglas was struggling to save the Everglades in her own time and here we are over fifty years later still struggling, still fighting to protect Florida's natural habitats.

I encourage you think about our decaying global environment and of course our endangered Everglades, so important to Florida's survival. Think of this as I leave you with one of my favorite images from her iconic work:

"The first saw grass, exactly as it grows today, sprang up and lived in the sweet water and the pouring sunlight, and died in it, and in its own dried and decaying tissues and tough fibers bright with silica sprang up more fiercely again. Year after year it grew and was fed by its own brown rotting, taller and denser in the dark soil of its own death."

more photos from that November morning on Sanibel

In this entry, we are to describe and illustrate our favorite place in the community. Egads, that is a tough one. I have so many favorite places, but I think perhaps I will talk about Sanibel, as I have spent more time than usual there of late.

You know how things are not always the same as you remember them? How our memories take on a mythical vision of their own? This is just as it is with me and Sanibel. I have visited the island many times over the years --my first time with my parents in the 1970's. Each time I return, Sanibel is always more beautiful than I remember. Imagine that. It is a rare thing. But the islanders are committed to maintaining Sanibel's quaint and natural beauty.

It is a uniquely pedestrian and bicycle friendly place with bike paths almost as wide as the two-lane main street through town. This path is separated from the road by lines of trees and bushes. When you journey down these paths, you feel immersed in nature. The beaches still hold much of the wild life and beauty that I remember from earlier days on Marco Island. The streets are narrow and wending, leading travelers to secret coves and to different eras in Florida's history.

The Sanibel Island Writers Conference, created by FGCU professors Tom DeMarchi and Karen Tolchin, is held at the Big Arts complex on Sanibel. I've attended two years in a row and this year was extra special. Special good and special bad.

I was taking the FGCU class connected with the conference this year and there were some amazing writers!!! Including Steve Almond, Tom Chiarella, Julianna Baggott, and the keynote speaker and native Florida author Carl Hiaasen. The down side was that I had recently broken up with my boyfriend and to make things worse, a few days before the conference he canceled on me via text because he was getting married that weekend to a woman he had known for two weeks. We'd attended the conference together the year before and had become much closer in those four days. Now I would be there again, alone and with his impending marriage hanging over me.

I decided I didn't want to be in town for the 'big day' so I escaped to Sanibel four days early. That first day --and his wedding day --was All Saints Day and there was a full moon. Driving through the mangrove lined streets near my hotel that night became especially beautiful as the moon dappled the mangrove leaves with its reflected light. I also had a nice walk on the hotel beach that afternoon after I arrived. Here's a journal entry from that night:

"I saw an osprey on the beach today. he was standing at the shore line right in front of me. Viewing him head-on I thought he was a big scrappy looking seagull at first, until he took off and flew right by my shoulder and I saw his 'eyeliner'."

He was so close that I could feel the breeze from his wings. It was an amazing experience. It didn't occur to me until later that night as I sat in a sports bar nursing a gin and tonic and waiting for my take-out that I perhaps should have been frightened by the nearness of that predatory bird.

Here's another entry from that day:

"The coquinas are really active --big and fat too --burrowing against the tide. The sand pipers and other birds are cute, running with the tide to avoid getting washed away --but sneaking in when water is out to snatch at the coquinas."

I love coquinas and their myriad of pastel colors. I love the way they wiggle and dig their way back into the sand.

I didn't have my camera that day as I had it charging back in the room. But the day before the conference I went out early in the morning. It happened to be low tide and there was lots to see. I've posted some of those pictures here. It was an inspiring week and I did a lot of writing and healing.

For this entry we must write about our favorite place on the FGCU campus and what makes it attractive to us. This is a tough question. The natural environment of the campus has always underwhelmed me --like those vast expanses of Bahia sod and uninspired trees and bushes arranged at the edges --nature on human terms. However, there are several spots I believe were left as they were found with wooden bridges to take us across to campus. I like looking off into these places at the squirrels, rabbits and turtles as well as the many clumps of native plants and those invaders brought here by earlier settlers to make Florida more 'habitable'. Although I have come to term these bridges as 'bridges of death'.

On my second day at FGCU I slipped and fell on one a destroyed a brand-new pair of espadrilles and tore up my knees and legs. These bridges grow moss and get slippery in the morning as dew settles upon them or when it rains. I avoid them as I am always slipping or tripping --and I often get my shoes caught in the cracks. Lately, I have noticed poison ivy growing through the sides, waving its lethal tendrils at passer-by. Eek.

I also like the water features. Though I am pretty sure they are man-made lakes/ponds, native flora and fauna have moved in. Turtles, alligators, and fish. (Although some of those may not exactly be native --I think I've seen some koi.) I love the outcropping of beach sunflower near the library's lake. The little sunny blossoms always make me smile. Though I think my favorite water feature is near Parking Lot 1. At different times of the year I see different wild flowers, there isn't much at the moment as it is 'winter'. The lily pads make me smile too. And I love how the water ripples on a windy day or flecks and waves in the rain. It makes me feel somehow serene --even though my fibromyalgic body is screaming from the hike. I've included a photograph here that I took with my phone a couple of weeks ago on one of those rainy windy days.

Okay. That first post was rather lengthy. I'll try to keep it brief. I am a rather prolific writer which tends to surprise people --sometimes even frighten them. I never have a problem with meeting a limit. My problem lies in keeping it to the limit. Whenever I worry I might not have enough to say, my friends laugh. See? Off I went on another tangent. Okay down to business.

Our next entry should reflect upon our sense of place and how it relates to our educational experiences out of doors. I think I covered some of that in my first blog entry. I'm a native Floridian and have had many experiences out of doors. I camped with the Girl Scouts in various places around Florida from the Keys to Arcadia. We used to camp out at the edge of the Naples airport at Camp Timberwood. Now that campground is gone --part of the airport now, I think. I used to troll the beach with my parents and friends and loved to go boating. My parents had a sailboat and so did my paternal grandparents. There are photos of me as baby sleeping on the boat. I've been on school field-trips to beachy coves full of hidden nature, and spent many romantic dates either walking the beach at night or canoeing in the state park. When I was in high school, I used go to the beach at night when I was feeling down or frustrated. There was a crumbling string of wood pilings leading into the water that I used to go out and sit upon to watch the moon. It always felt like I was on a boat, sailing to a distant island.

Though I have had many moments of frustration living in Florida over the years --I hate being hot and a change of seasons would be nice --I feel strongly connected to Florida. When I got my first place, I had to have one of the vintage cottages in downtown Naples near the beach. It was a dream of mine and I achieved it. I loved planting in the garden --lots of native plants of course and getting my hands in the soil. My mom was horrified that I wouldn't wear gloves. I was always getting cut up and one time got attacked by fire ants. But I loved having my hands in the soil. I often walked to the beach and would take long walks up and down the streets and cozy back alleys. My cottage was hot and dusty with only a window air unit, and I might have been able to see sunlight through the floorboards, but I loved it! And the experience made me love Florida all over again. I know one day I intend to leave Florida, but I will be sad when I do. Though, it may not matter. As we learned in class, if things continue as there are and the Greenland ice sheet melts, my beloved Naples will be underwater in forty or fifty years.

I have had a lot going on in my life at the moment, and my health has been more than usually in the dumps, so I am a little behind on my postings. After today, I should be nicely caught up and will post on a regular basis.

Our first journal entry should reflect upon our expectations for learning and outcomes from the colloquium class. Hmm. This is a tough one. Born and raised in Florida, I have enjoyed many educational experiences through school --from kindergarten on --and the Girl Scouts. I have also been blessed with a family who revels in educational experiences. Plus, my mother is an avid gardener and we love looking at native Florida plants and visiting plant festivals and Florida gardens. Still, I know there is always more to learn, and so far, I have learned a new thing or two.

Our trip to Ding Darling was a lot of fun. I saw a roseate spoonbill for the first time in its native habitat --and I saw white pelicans for the first time ever! I think that is rather sad though --my first white pelican sighting in forty years. I'm sure there was a time when they were plentiful. In fact, there was a time when other types of fauna were more plentiful. Even in my own time I have seen changes. I remember when rabbits would hop onto the sand on Marco Islands' Tigertail Beach and shelling was a fascinating experience. I learned from my father how to spot the 'tail' of a lightening-welk sticking out of the sand and how to watch for coquinas burrowing back into the sand after the waves retreated back into the gulf. None of that exists anymore --except for maybe a diminished number of coquinas. Tigertail is stuffed with people and concession stands. And the rest of Marco Island's beaches have been claimed by hotels and condominiums that now line the shore. I used to walk there with my friends or my family, but now this is a covert operation. The beaches no longer belong to any who wish to visit.

I probably disappointed the professor when I didn't leap off the bus to see the alligator at Ding Darling. But I've seen more alligators than I can count. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't appreciate them. I just think that someone who hasn't seen one before should have a better chance at a closer look. S/he doesn't need me clogging up the visibility. Though I would have loved to see the crocodile --but more on her in a later post.

Of course Colloquium is more than just learning about Florida. We are a global community after all and, as we are discovering, the environment is a global concern. What I do here can affect an entire community in Africa. I hope to learn more about how we can make changes happen. It's frightening where we are now and frightening how little people care. Money is the great motivator --to destroy and to build. Wasn't it political and capitalist marketing schemes that got us to forget about the endangered ecosystem in the first place? (I think it was Michael Grimwald the author of Endgame that told us so.) Nothing's changed since the 1990's --the last time being green was 'hip' --except than things have only gotten worse. I scoffed when Al Gore's film had such a major reaction. Not because of Al Gore or the film itself. I applaud Gore and his vision, and at least he got people to sit-up and take notice again. But that's the point. People reacted as if this was all news to them, and suddenly 'going green' was all the rage. However, nothing has changed --the planet is still going to crap and has been for awhile. I want to scream, 'Hello! We already knew all of this! What's changed?"

Colloquium will certainly be interesting as I learn more about the critical state of our planet and what is and is not being done to help it. Although, each class is depressing. It's easy to feel helpless and frustrated. I am a writer though, and I can reach people with my words and attempt to foster change in that way. The class has inspired me to do so. In the meantime, I am enjoying some of my favorite Florida 'hangouts' in our field trips. We are even going to Echo Farms --a place I have always wanted to visit. This will be v. exciting!