It is possible this is not about stockdogs. But it's been a slow week out West, waiting for it to rain. My interview with Time magazine was the only exciting thing that happened. True, Bonnie has recovered markedly from her wasp encounter. She narrowly rescued my favorite Mister Lincoln rose from being consumed by Snowdie the ever-voracious, the savviest of my goat girls. Snowdie knows that unattended moments to devour roses are limited, so she eats like a buzz saw when she gets that little chance. It was right then, while Bonnie was nipping Snowdie away from Mister Lincoln, that Melba and Tule took the opportunity to leap upon the deck and start in on my Sombrueil (an antique white climbing rose I dearly love), and I decided that I simply had to get some electronet fencing for the weed patch. "Tending" just wasn't making it.

This isn't quite as gripping as getting interviewed by Time, I admit.

Time approached me to be the civilian, as it were, for a Science & Health section piece on what has become known as Reducing Your Carbon Footprint, or Going on a Carbon Diet. A cute way of describing changing the way you live so that you do not contribute to unnatural global climate change, or at least, as much as you used to.

So I was happy to discuss how I wash my clothes in cold water and hang them out to dry, how I drive a subcompact at 55 mph max, how we changed all the incandescent lightbulbs in the house to compact fluourescents, and how my daughter and husband now commute by bicycle to school and work. These simple changes alone keep an astonishing amount of carbon out the atmosphere. When we put in our planned solar water heating system our propane use should plummet too, as then the only thing we'll be running on propane will be the kitchen stove.

I waxed a little philosophical too, about how simplifying one's life makes one saner and more attentive to quieter pleasures like the changing of the seasons, the kind of musing that has been done vastly better by such savants as E.F.Schumacher and Wendell Berry, back in the 1970's when more people were open to such things (in any case my profoundities didn't survive the editor's pencil). I could tell the reporter was looking for an upbeat, straightforward story that a broad spectrum of Americans could relate to, so I didn't talk much about the down side to my attempts to reduce my carbon footprint.

Most people can overcome mere sloppiness and bad habits, if the alternative is, say, the death of the planet as we know it. A great deal of the carbon we Americans spew out is due to just those things--poorly designed cars that are far too large, leaving lights on when nobody's in the room, and washing clothes in hot water when cold is just as good at getting most things clean. But what about when you are faced with giving up something you really want?

I gave up regular lessons with Sherry, in great part because it was a 300 mile round trip every week, and I just couldn't see a way to continue to justify such a great expenditure of, well, carbon. I fantasized taking a major road trip through the Southwest next spring to visit working Aussie breeders and watch dogs of different lines work, maybe discovering that perfect puppy somewhere (just what I need, a puppy). That's another luxury I can't justify. I'd like to fly out to the East Coast to visit my dear friends there, but few activities are as carbon-generating as air travel, so that isn't going to happen.

I'm fortunate that my current passions are pretty carbon-benign: my website, writing, wool, goats, Bonnie. As long as I stay out of my car, that is. Like anyone who has a stockdog and no farm, that means some tough choices. Do I care more about improving my handling skills with lessons and practice in different environments, or nurturing my little homestead here? I have to think about that. Do I care more about pursuing my own pleasures and ambitions, or in saving the planet? That I really have to think about. The first is concrete and now, the second is abstract and remote, and how can these individual gestures make a difference either way anyway?

But they do. It's funny how being interviewed made me straighten up and try to live up to my ideals more. Now I feel like I'm on camera, somehow. We'll see how long it lasts.

This is the link to the Time article.