There is a pervasive myth in our society that we need certain things to qualify as a civilized member of that society. I don’t necessarily mean fancy cars or big houses, I mean more basic things. In the effort to decrease my output of waste and my regular expenditures, I decided to try to minimize the amount of these “necessities” that I actually need. So, I haven’t used shampoo or conditioner since July 1st.

Daily shampooing didn’t become a societal norm until the 1970’s. Before that, many people didn’t wash their hair more than once a week. This trend increased profits for hair care companies, advertisers for their products, plastic manufacturers who package shampoo and conditioner, and the chemical companies who provide the raw materials. Shampoo doesn’t just clean your hair, it strips your hair of the natural oils that your scalp produces. The glands that secrete that oil are triggered to secrete even more when it senses the oil it has already produced has been removed. This process has caused, for most people, a dependency on shampoo and conditioner because their scalp is overproducing oil which never makes it to the body of one’s hair, rendering it dry and needing of conditioner. That is why most people spend money every few weeks or so to buy these products that they really don’t need.

What I do to keep my hair clean is called the No Poo method. Instead of lathering my hair with shampoo every day, I use a solution of a tablespoon of baking soda to a cup of water every other day to get the dirt out of my hair. Instead of conditioner, I use a table spoon of apple cider vinegar to a cup of water solution every other day. This allows the natural oils to travel down the length of my hair while preventing the glands in my scalp from over-secreting those oils. I also make the solution myself, reusing the squeeze bottle containers over and over again. My expenses are about $2 for the box of baking soda which I’ve only used about a third of since July and Bragg’s Apple Cider Vinegar which is about $3 for a 16oz bottle of which I’ve used less than one third. The water cost is negligible. Just to summarize the benefits: my hair is a soft as it has ever been, I spend a fraction of what I used to on hair care, and I’ve minimized my waste output incredibly.

I’ve told so many people about No Poo (www.nopoomethod.com) and have yet to hear that anyone else is trying it. That truly displays to me how pervasive habit and societal norms can be. Much environmental activism takes place publicly, loudly, and aggressively. However, making a simple change that has so many other benefits also counts as environmental activism! Why don’t more people do this? After looking at the pictures of the birds full of plastic, don’t you want to start getting creative and selective about your plastic use? It also never hurts to spend a little less.

P.S. Skeptical? Come touch my hair.

“Even if it weren’t raining, with subway pumps stilled, that [flooding of subway lines] would take no more than a couple of days, they estimate. At that point, water would start sluicing away soil under the pavement. Before lone, streets start to crater. With no one unclogging sewers, some new watercourses form on the surface. Others appear suddenly as waterlogged steel columns that support the street above the East Side’s 4, 5, and 6 trains corrode and buckle. As Lexington Avenue caves in, it becomes a river” (Weisman 30).

“A house whose inside is as open and manifest as a bird’s nest, and you cannot go in the front door and out the back without seeing some of its inhabitants; where to be a house guest is to be presented with the freedom of the house, and not to be carefully excluded from seven eighths of it, shut up in a particular cell, and told to make yourself at home there, -in solitary confinement. Nowadays the host does not admit you to his hearth, but has got the mason to build one for yourself somewhere in his alley, and hospitality is the art of keeping you at the greatest distance” (Thoreau 266).

“Nobody, in other words, can say what will happen in Cathedral Pines. And the reason is not that the forest ecology is a young of imperfect science, but because nature herself doesn’t know what’s going to happen here. Nature has no grand design for this place. An incomprehensibly various and complex set of circumstances – some of human origin, but many not – will determine the future of Cathedral Pines. And whatever that future turns out to be, it would not unfold in precisely the same way twice. Nature may possess certain inherent tendencies, ones that theories such as forest succession can describe, but chance events can divert her course into an almost infinite number of different channels” (Pollan 217).

This is the premise on which Pollan’s garden ethic lies, and I think it is entirely correct. Similarly to Pollan, I have taken issue with the separation between human-touched and virgin nature since that line is so incredibly blurry, as is explained in the above passage. In my first response paper, I defended the natural value of city parks. According to this passage, and the rest of his essay, Pollan would surely agree with my defense. City parks are under constant influence by park managers, visitors, and mother nature, herself. None of these forces can solely determine the future of the park. Just as no one can wholly predict the next days or years of their own lives, due to innumerable variables, such is the same with any space whether it be dubbed “wilderness” or “city park” or anything in between.

“The greatest gains and values are farthest from being appreciated. We easily come to doubt if they exist. We soon forget them. They are the highest reality. Perhaps the facts most astounding and most real are never communicated by man to man. The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched” (Thoreau 236).

This passage speaks incredibly to me because I couldn’t agree with it more. I, too, believe that the most profound values of living are infinitely difficult, if not impossible to verbalize. In my second response paper, I wrote that words and measurements can only get asymptotically close to describing natural reality, though they can never fully detail it. I believe, as Thoreau also does, that the deepest and truest gains from living share this quality. Perhaps it is because those gains are embedded within our relationship with the natural world. This relationship, according to Thoreau and myself, is indescribable.

I’ve had an annoying head cold, two exams, and barely any sleep this week, so as I plopped down after this long day, I was feeling punchy and ready to yell at someone. Luckily, I came across an email from 350.org Bucks County that begun with the words “ACTION ALERT.” According to this email, an Isreali company called Elcon has resubmitted a previously denied proposal to site a hazardous and pharmaceutical chemical waste treatment facility about 25 minutes from where I live. The rest of the email noted that the PA DEP is set to accept their proposal unless there is significant pushback from the local community. However, the request for more in-person public comments was denied. Therefore, the last hope are letters and emails sent before the deadline of October 14th. To my delight, I had anger to channel and it’s only October 8th. Inspired by last night’s Rachel Carson discussion, the letter to the editor written by Olga from Boston, and my own sense of defending my home, I wrote the following email to RA-HazWaste@pa.gov:

Hazardous Waste Facility Siting Team Leader,

“Land, then, is not merely soil; it is a fountain of energy flowing through a circuit of soils, plants, and animals. Food chains are the living channels which conduct energy upward; death and decay return it to the soil. The circuit is not closed; some energy is dissipated in decay, some is added by absorption from the air, some in soils, peats, and long-lived forests; but it is a sustained circuit, like a slowly augmented revolving fund of life” (Leopold 253).

Here, Leopold concisely explains the interconnectedness of everything in nature. This is an incredibly important passage because it redefines land as a being in itself with an impressive ability to exhibit sustainable growth. I truly believe the cyclical or “revolving” manner in which it operates can be used as a model for how human ecology – economy – should operate in a way respectful of the land ethic. It’s difficult, after reading this passage, to not be impressed by the intrinsic value of ecosystems.

“All was mountain and forest on every hand. Civilization seemed to have done little more than to have scratched this rough, shaggy surface of the earth here and there. In any such view, the wild, the aboriginal, the geographical greatly predominate. The works of man dwindle and the original features of the huge globe come out. Every single object of point is dwarfed; the valley of the Hudson is only a wrinkle in the earth’s surface. You discover with a feeling of surprise that the great thing is the earth itself, which stretches away on every hand so far beyond your ken” (Burroughs 24).

In this passage, Burroughs demonstrates the very specific feeling associated with being in the wilderness. The overwhelming feeling of escaping civilization and witnessing vastness that can only really be seen when viewing a wilderness scene such as the one he was is detailed here. I think Leopold and Burroughs would agree that these kinds of emotions and realizations can help society move towards fulfilling the land ethic. As Leopold said, that cultural movement will take intellectual and emotional development. Experiences such as this one could potentially help build the emotional stock and push society further towards the land ethic.

Today, I attended a talk by Maggie Gray, a Lafayette alumnae, entitled “Labor and the Locavore.” I hadn’t done much research on her before the talk, so besides what I gathered from the name of the lecture, I didn’t quite know what the talk would be about. Essentially, her argument is that the local food movement has created a false binary between factory and small farms which has, in turn, caused farm workers at small farms to be overlooked. These farm workers are deserving of attention because, in many cases, their conditions are just as bad, if not worse, than those of workers in larger factory farms.

I learned some appalling things about worker conditions in small farms in upstate NY. The law does not require employers to give farm workers a rest day, allow for collective bargaining, or require employers to pay overtime. Many employers prefer that their workers do not learn English so that they would have very little ability to leave their job for a new one. The legal status of many of these workers coupled with paternalistic/favoring actions that employers make take and rural isolation create a psychological, social, and legal barrier which prevents workers from trying to better their pay and work conditions. Many of these problems, besides the paternalism aspect, are very similar to what I have learned happens in factory farms. The difference here is that since the local food movement is branded as the antithesis of factory farms, everything that goes on in the production of this food is completely moral and socially just, which allows these offenses to go largely unnoticed and un-discussed.

In short, I agree with her on the fact that attention and scrutiny must be brought to this situation. However, I think there is a fine line between pointing out an issue within a generally good thing and bashing that good thing as a whole. She pointed out the hypocrisy of “locavores” who would defend farmers when confronted with her stories of offenses against farm workers. I think this hypocrisy is true to some extent, but these people are generally doing the best they can with the information that they have. Gray made people who are trying to live morally look evil when all they really need is to read her book. I fear, however, that Gray’s most important audience is the one who she seems to be alienating.

“Those who have celebrated the frontier have almost always looked backward as they did so, mourning an older, simpler, truer world that is about to disappear forever. That world and all of its attractions, Turner said, depended on free land– on wilderness. Thus, in the myth of the vanishing frontier lay the seeds of wilderness preservation in the United States, for if wild land had been so crucial in the making of the nation, then surely one must save its last remnants as monuments to the American past–and as an insurance policy to protect its future” (Cronon 76).

“But, wherever a man goes, men will pursue and paw him with their dirty institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to belong to their desperate odd-fellow society. It is true, I might have resisted forcibly with more or less effect, might have run “amok” against society; but i preferred that society should run “amok” against me, it being the desperate party” (Thoreau 187).

A thought we constantly discussed while exploring this neglected place was the potential it contained. Right at the sharp bend following this dam, the velocity of the flow slows and a pool that looked ideal for recreation. We constantly thought about what this area would look like if cleaned up and the paths made slightly less treacherous. Perhaps if done it would become a popular spot for the community; a way for the people of Easton to get acquainted with their backyard Bushkill Creek. Looking around this area and letting our imaginations run, we could see this place rid of a plethora or litter and enjoyed by people who have missed out on bonding with the Bushkill.

In addition to our return visit to the site, we also looked into some history of the property. Joan Steiner’s The Bushkill Creek gave us some great information on the place. This source informed us that the Butz family had flour, grist, planing, and saw mills which they began to come into ownership of in 1800. They lived along the creek and also managed two large farms in Forks. After the death of Christian Butz in 1821 the property became part of the Butz’s estate and was passed on to his son. The property continued to pass through the hands of family members and in 1839 Captain Daniel Butz and his brother Michael Butz decided begin a woolen manufacturing business that would include a fulling mill, dye and drying houses, and power looms. After considerable losses they abandoned the venture and converted the mill to a gristmill. In 1861 the entire gristmill burned as well as the adjoining frame plaster mill. They rebuilt the grist mill and in early 1865 it was noted that business was booming. Joan Steiner states that, “The Butz family’s holdings were an illustration of a merchant milling operation expanding to include other businesses, in this case all located on the neck of land created where the Bushkill made its first turn to the north” (1996).

Besides discussing the history and potential future of this site, we also came upon a thread around which we would like to center our story. As mentioned in the earlier progress report, we came across tons of remnants of infrastructure in the creek. Broken chunks of concrete, innumerable bricks with logos carved into them, etc. were all apparent during our first visit. During the most recent visit, we discovered more of the aforementioned things, but we also came across a fallen piece of concrete and metal which may have once held up a park bench, even more consumer waste of all kinds, a large manhole cover, and even a traffic-infrastructure “graveyard.” We climbed up the bank right after the elbow of the creek to the backside of the public works facility and discovered piles of old traffic lights and street signs. They looked as if they hadn’t been touched for months, if not years.

After seeing the prevalence of nature taking over broken pieces of forgotten infrastructure, a theme clicked in all of our minds while we were marveling at the heaps of rusting street signs: this place is a constant battle between neglected public infrastructure and the natural world. Right near the dam, moss, lichens, water, and time have eroded bricks and dismantled structures. Behind the public works building, useful structures of past times have been left to the elements. Overwhelming evidence of the presence of homeless people who have also been neglected by the infrastructure of society litters the embankment right where we climbed down. Food wrappers, aerosol cans, beer bottles, even a few bent spoons and needles represent the population who, like the bricks in the creek, have lost their role in modern society. It’s also noteworthy to mention that the only “gate” that we have to go around to slide down to this spot is yet another piece of road-infrastructure: a guard rail. Publicly provided infrastructure also prevents the public from seeing this part of the creek from the road and sidewalk along Pearl Street. The huge fence with vines growing on it makes this battleground invisible to passersby.

We’re sure that more visits to Butz Mill will reveal even more dichotomies between public infrastructure and nature and that is what we wish to highlight in this story.