I have a not-so-secret vice: I love interior design, and I have tear sheets going back decades. I am addicted to home improvement shows. I thrill to see those neglected houses brought back to life and made appropriate for the way we live now.
As we were coping with a third weekend of deep freeze, my inner optimist searched for things to be grateful for. First, I am grateful that we’ve had a good share of brilliant sunshine on many of these frigid days, which lifts the mood if not the thermometer.
At this time of year I savor the efforts of my fellow residents to brighten the winter landscape with holiday lighting—the more excessive the better.
Over the past few weeks I’ve had the pleasure of participating in online coursework presented by Cornell University’s Institute for Climate Smart Solutions.
Growing up on the Gulf Coast, I got an early introduction to the force and unpredictability of hurricanes, starting with Carla, which hit Houston when I was a tyke. I remember vividly our crotchety neighbor telling me the roof was sure to blow off our house.
The headline seized my attention: “Millennials are killing the oil industry.” Kate Aronoff, writing for The Nation, described a recent report by Ernst & Young (EY): “Fifty-seven percent of teens now see the fossil fuel industry as bad for society, and 62% of those aged 16 to 19 say working for oil and gas companies is unappealing,” she write
I’m grateful to James Barth for pointing out an unintentional ambiguity in my last column. I failed to make it clear that, like the job creation data I mentioned, the statistic I quoted on GHG reduction—“27% since 2005”—relates only to the electricity generation sector, which accounts for roughly a third of CO2 emissions in the U.S.
Like many Southerners, my mother was a connoisseur of colloquialisms. Examples from her colorful repertoire frequently pop into my mind, eloquent and uniquely apt. Last Thursday, with the not unexpected announcement that the President has decided the U.S.
When we started house-hunting in the Catskills 20 years ago, my husband and I stopped on a whim to tour a prefabricated home, and I had an unexpected reaction. After about five minutes, my eyes and lips started burning and my sinuses became severely congested.
“Hope springs eternal in the human breast.” Search for the meaning of this phrase (from Pope’s “Essay on Man”), and you’ll find that it is mostly used sarcastically nowadays to describe a lost cause.