So, after years of procrastination and indecision -- and opposition from my husband, who hated the idea -- I finally put up a clothes line in the back yard. I dug a deep hole and my friend Victorya helped me mix the cement, pour it around the base, and square everything away. Pretty simple, really. I wanted a clothesline to save energy, but also because I had such fond memories of helping my mom hang out the wash in our big side yard, where I mostly climbed the cherry tree and watched the clouds. I remember how fresh everything smelled.

Well, I put the clothesline very near our compost bin. Normally there's no smell, but lately I've been dumping the remains of the vegetable plants I've been harvesting behind the bin, and just yesterday I dumped several pounds' worth of outside red cabbage leaves. Pee-yuu (or however you spell it)!

Another challenge is that, of course, different items dry at different rates -- Rob's poly/cotton shirts first, towels last, and everything else in between. He didn't want me to hang stuff outside because he thought everything would be stiff. His shirts dry just like in the dryer, soft and wrinkle-free, but the towels (and underwear!) are stiff. I've been surprised by how long most things take to dry, so sometimes, either because they're not quite dry or because I want to soften them up, I throw them in the dryer for a few minutes. I've also discovered I HATE hanging out socks, so sometimes I just throw them in the dryer right away.

So I don't know how much energy I'm actually saving, though I'm sure it's something. I'm of the school that believes individual action to address climate change is a necessary but far from sufficient condition for change. Governments have to get involved, obviously, and, just as obviously, governmental action can slow down or speed up climate change (as in continuing to give huge subsidies to fossil fuel industries).

One thing about hanging out the wash -- it does put one more in touch with nature and the weather: sunny or cloudy, dry or humid or even raining after I've finished clothes-pinning everything on the line. I do love listening to the cardinals, chickadees and robins, and watching the gorgeous monarchs feeding on the aptly named butterfly bush nearby.  And I'm going to find another place to dispose of my garden's biomass, so I can smell the flowers instead.

Nothing like a little excitement to liven up a reporting trip. I’ve been in southern West Virginia for the past week to cover the lead-up to and the biggest action against mountaintop removal (MTR) mining to date. On July 28, 45 activists walked onto the largest MTR site in West Virginia, Hobet 45 in Lincoln County, dropping banners, locking themselves to machinery, and hiding in trees; 20 were arrested. I covered it here for Free Speech Radio News and here for Between the Lines radio newsmagazine, and will be doing several more stories. The action was organized by RAMPS -- Radical Action for Mountain People's Survival -- whose mission statement is opposition to all forms of surface mining, though many of the activists, both local and out-of-staters, say all forms of coal mining are detrimental to the health and well-being of West Virginians and the planet as a whole. Of course those employed by the mining industry beg to differ.

While there was some good, respectful dialogue between miners and their families on one side and MTR opponents on the other at a nearby park, there were also a lot of threats and intimidation. Twenty-five activists who were not arrested had to walk a gauntlet of angry locals for more than five miles, which one participant described as the most hostility he’d experienced in 40 years of activism.

That evening, the organizers were in Charleston (about 90 minutes from the action, and 90 minutes from training camp in another direction), trying to track down all of those arrested and deal with a barrage of media calls. When some folks tried to head back  to camp late at night, they were advised not to by the camp’s owner, James Tawney, who  runs a sheep farm and is outspoken in his own views against MTR, because angry neighbors had felled trees to block the road and shot off guns near the property. James is well-armed himself and apparently not afraid to defend his family and his land.

Folks were able to return Sunday morning (the trees had been moved) and joined others for a debriefing. Some talked about being traumatized by the violence of MTR itself – where mountain ridges are dynamited to get at the coal seams beneath, with tons of rocks and soil flying up and being dumped in valleys, often burying streams – and by the damage it’s doing to local communities. Others had been affected by the tension and fear of personally confronting angry workers who fear the loss of their livelihood if MTR sites are closed down.

Toward evening a group of angry neighbors/miners breached the property line and things were tense. Some folks wanted to invite them for dinner (home-made pizza was almost ready), but others nixed that, saying the intruders had also been drinking and things could get ugly. Some of the RAMPS leaders spoke to the men, and after a half-hour or so they moved away (but nobody knew how far away). James called the cops, and two patrol cars escorted those of us wanting to leave down the long, winding dirt road to the county road. (Turns out one of the trees cut down was on one of the officer’s property, and was he pissed.)

I was in that mini-caravan, headed  to a motel in the nearest town,  Summersville, about 16 miles away, where I could get phone service and get on the internet to file my first story, and take a shower – none of which had been available at the camp which had been my home base for five days as I interviewed activists and walked in the beautiful, diverse, green forest – no drought here, in fact the opposite, as raging thunderstorms had swept through several times in the past month.