Earth Hour: My Way

How's this for one way to observe Earth Hour: Go out, watch the stars come out after sunset, and need no light at all?

That was my plan last night. But it was cloudy. Still, it was pleasant, west of Vancouver Airport by the sea. Planes came and went. A heron, like a still life, waited over something in the marsh at Iona. The colour dimmed from the world.

I've got a hand-crank pocket radio: crank the handle, charge the internal battery, great for living off the grid. It has a single LED flashlight, too. I used it to find my way from the marsh back to where I'd parked. No, the flashlight wasn't really necessary. I can see fine in the dark when there's a big bright airport one mile south. The handcrank-powered flashlight was to prove a point.

Lights Out

They banned the incandescent lightbulb here, did you know? It was called an evil thing and banned. And the ban was thought so good a thing, and forward-thinking, BC's Provincials enacted it rather quietly around the New Year.

The ban applied to power-wasting higher wattage bulbs, the 75's, the 100-watters. I'd never heard of a 75-watter. I've only ever burned 60's: from the day I fledged, and buying lightbulbs became my own grown-up responsibility. Retailers ran out of stock for every useful watter, though. A post-New-Year lightbulb buying frenzy, apparently. Some shops posted signs, cited the Government edict. Then filled the shelves with compact fluorescent lamps. I won't use CFLs. Never again.

It's March end. The more-useful 60-watt incandescent lightbulbs have returned to shop shelves. At double the previous price.

I must mention something unsettling I heard, over and over, during my winter's odyssey in search of golden lightbulbs. From people I met at bare shop shelves. Most had no inkling a CFL contained toxic mercury, and when dead should properly be disposed of. None knew where to bring them. All had known CFLs that had died early deaths. All had simply tossed the duds in the garbage.

I can't say which is scarier. A lake of mercury pooling beneath the landfill. Politicians whooping it up, riding the Eco-Yada-Yada bandwagon.

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Am offering this. For the writing exercise of doing this, I'll admit, yes. Also, more importantly, because I've always cared, I'm offering this in observance of Earth Hour. Y'know, the annual symbolic eco-green-hug-fest.

I can see it already. Tonight's late night news. People. Well-meaning people. Masses of people texting, posting pix, You-Tubing video, and calling it good, switching off the light and each burning a smoking candle all of one hour.

SuperMoon'd

It was a supermoon earlier Saturday night, magnified even larger at moonrise through the thicker lens of Earth's atmosphere above the eastern horizon.

It's 1:30 Sunday morning. Bars and clubs are letting out. Wildlife howls under the moon. Under lamplight.

This Space Reserved for Anti-Nuke Polemic

Or maybe the next space up.
If I like this space as is.
But one of these spaces will definitely hold a polemic, of the No-Nuke kind.
Once I'm done editing the rant out of it.
It should be a polite polemic, probably, I suppose.
Oh, and witty.
Witty's a good thing in any polemic.
And politeness.
Laughs all around and nobody has to feel bad about ploppin'down simmering nuclear kettles in earthquake zones.
Funny word...ploppin'down.