Hands Across The Sand

Like anyone else who is paying attention, I'm sickened by the devastation that continues to mount in the Gulf of Mexico as both industry and government seem impotent to correct the damage they have wrought on the environment and the communities of our gulf shores. There truly are no words that can express the anger, fear, and disgust I feel as the true cost of our national thirst for oil becomes inescapable fact. And like so many of the major issues facing our society, there is little opportunity for meaningful action, no way to reach out and help to heal the wounds that are bound to fester for generations to come.

But the one thing that I can do is speak out, add my voice to the chorus calling for an end to the risky deep water oil exploration that led to this catastrophe in the first place. It may be too late to stop this spill, but there is no reason that we should go forward with business as usual, courting other such disasters.

Hands Across the Sand is organizing a nationwide day of protest against offshore drilling and in support of clean energy initiatives on June 26. Right now, there are registered groups in 43 states that will join hands on local beaches to make a statement about protecting our irreplaceable marine environments. Perhaps there is enough strength in our numbers to finally get the attention of our elected leaders and demand the changes we all know need to be made. I'll be at the event closest to me. Will you?

Adapting

Adapting is not something I'm especially good at.

See, I'm a bit of a control freak at times, and I tend towards discouragement and even despair when the wheels come off of a plan I've invested a lot of time and energy into.

I'm fighting through that this year with my gardens as we struggle through doldrums that feel like they'll never end. Business has never been this slow, and lack of disposable income has thrown a major wrench into so many of my best-laid plans. The fruit trees never got ordered, I spent the spring digging out sod rather than building raised beds, and everything has been scaled down a bit. Frustration has reigned supreme as I feel more urgency than ever before to progress down our path to self-sufficiency but have fewer means than ever to actually take the steps that come next.

Still, I know that I am blessed. Had we not started down this path when we did, not thrown everything we had into buying a home that is truly ours, we would be right there with so many Michiganders, looking down the barrel of foreclosure as the job market continues to unravel. Home is a powerful thing, and no matter how discouraged I get with the delays and corner-cutting, rounding the corner to come home never fails to make me smile. For better or worse, this is ours and no one can take it from us. The rest will come in time.