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TreeHugger (one of my go-to websites for “green lifestyle” reading) offers 9 ideas for plastic-free Halloween treats.

My favorite suggestions from the article are: choose paper-wrapped or paper-boxed candies; buy candies in bulk and offer them loose (I would have tongs available for taking the candies out of the bowl). Making homemade candies is another great idea.

Loose candies might not be a favored option if your neighborhood isn’t close-knit. Then again, a lot of people these days are doing “Trunk or Treat” gatherings in parks or parking lots. The more intimate atmosphere makes it safer to offer loose treats, I think.

Though some cities are still recycling aluminum and glass, I know this has become a problem so I would avoid giving canned or bottled drinks.

You could brew up a bowl or pitcher of “Witches’ Brew Punch” and ladle it into little paper cups as kids arrive. Or, if you live in a small community, offer it in your own reusable cups. They’d have to drink it on the spot, but the thirst-quencher might be welcome! Make hot cider or cold punch depending on the weather.

Regarding their suggestion of foil-wrapped candies, I agree that is a better option than plastic. But I would prefer to give paper-wrapped rather than foil-wrapped — though I guess the foil eventually breaks down in the environment, being metal. (One of my pet sci-fi future scenarios is that everyone’s discarded junk breaks down into its elements, and landfills become mines for metals and other material. “Landfills are the mines of the future,” I went around saying for awhile.)

Meanwhile, on a Halloween thread on Journey To Zero Waste (J2ZW), one new suggestion I got was tangerines painted with jack o’ lantern faces. Also, bananas painted with eyes and mouths to look like ghosts. Cute huh! (Oh, and in case you’re looking for cheap eco-friendly costume options, someone on J2ZW just started a thread on that also. The sugar skulls painted on cardboard boxes are adorable!)

And of course, apples (plain or caramel-coated) are a perennial favorite.

Treats tend to come from raw materials produced far away (chocolate, sugar — and here in Florida, even apples are a faraway treat). But it’s just once a year, and people since ancient times have enjoyed “faraway treats” on festival days.

That said, if you are able to offer a local fruit, or candy produced from local ingredients, I give you bonus happy eco points!

I must confess, Halloween is one special occasion when I have tended to go lax on green practices, and just give the commonly available plastic-wrapped candies. I look for the paper-wrapped ones (Milk Duds, Pixie Sticks, Mary Jane etc.) but if I can’t find ’em I don’t sweat it. TreeHugger and the J2ZW community have inspired me to step up my game. I’m going to look for paper-packaged treats.

Regardless of whether you are able to find “greener” options, my advice to everyone is to just enjoy Halloween. Take trick-or-treating as an opportunity to boost social connectedness and a spirit of fun in your neighborhood. Building stronger communities is ultimately the greenest thing any of us can do.

One of my favorite mindfulness/spirituality bloggers, David at Raptitude, just posted his discovery of “How To Make Life More Pleasurable“:

“…there’s something to be gained in deliberately limiting our pleasures—not for any moral purpose, or to conserve money, health, or the environment—but simply because making our pleasures more occasional makes them more pleasurable.

“For example, we’d probably derive more pleasure from eating if most of our meals weren’t delicious. … When most meals are basic, the pleasure of simply eating has a chance to come through, and delicious meals—ones with prominent salt, fat, or sugar—become pleasurable in a way they can’t be when they’re the norm.”

This reminds me of the Japanese farmer and philosopher Masanobu Fukuoka’s wise observation in One Straw Revolution, to the effect that when you’re not focused on getting something “delicious” to eat, you can more fully enjoy the taste of whatever you’re eating.

Have you ever seen a kid get literally 20 or 50 presents for Christmas or birthday — only to reach for an empty cardboard box to play with? Or just sit there looking glazed and dazed?

Treats are great, but they’re only treats til they become commonplace. But I think there’s more to it than that. I think we are actually surrounded by treats 24-7, but some are more subtle than others. So if I’m constantly gorging on the flashy, sugary-fatty, clobber-you-over-the-head kind of treats, I miss the more subtle but equally delicious flavors of life all around me.

In my city we have a lot of “special events.” We have “special events” — often. (Think about that.) A typical description of a music festival around here is “140 bands on seven stages!” And that’s all on one street, all in one day! (This is every bit as exhausting as it sounds, at least to me.)

One day listening to piano music in church, I was struck by the thought that in some times, some cultures, this might have been the only music a person heard all week. Now, I’m a big fan of music, and love to be able to listen anytime I choose. But there would be something momentous and sacred about not getting to hear music at will. Having to seek it out, or wait for it. And having it be at natural volume, not amplified.

I think the intenser pleasures, what I might call “fatty sugary” pleasures, when they are packed too densely into my day, overshadow the equally rich but more subtle pleasures, the way that the spicy salty jolt of a fistful of XTreme Doritos, or the fatty cheesy richness of French onion soup, or the gooey sweetness of a brownie sundae, might overpower the quieter deliciousness of a glass of cool green tea, or the last juicy, tangy Surinam cherry left on the tree down the street. Or how a cable-TV show binge, if it becomes a way of life (as opposed to an occasional superfun treat with friends or family), might cause me to overlook a more subtle “show”: the tree-shadows cast on my living-room wall at night, moving gently in the breeze. Or taking a walk out to look at the moon. Or phoning a friend and catching up with what’s going on in their life.

For me, relentless luxury leads to crankiness and ingratitude. Maybe it’s just too much to take in after a while. High-calorie meals, high-calorie experiences. Sometimes the highest pleasure is just a walk around the block. Or an evening sitting on the porch with a friend.

Astute observation from another writer I recently stumbled on:

“There had been times in my past, when things were going effortlessly well, that I felt like I should have appreciated what I had more—paused just to feel thankful and maybe even spoke my gratitude out loud. But you can only take it in when you can take it in. And in that very difficult time after Jay and I split up, I was surprised by what I was able to appreciate quite easily. The gaping holes of what I had lost only helped to illuminate the beauty that was still all around.” — Amy B. Scher, in This Is How I Save My Life: From California to India, a True Story Of Finding Everything When You Are Willing To Try Anything.

To sum up my personal take on how to make life more pleasurable:

Limit intake of the “dense, intense” pleasures, so they continue to be treats rather than becoming commonplace; and

Limit intake of the “dense, intense” pleasures so they don’t crowd out the more subtle but equally delicious pleasures that are all around me.

This “formula” fits in very well with a low-footprint lifestyle, of course.

Can a sprig of basil from the garden, or a leaf-shadow on the wall, be as delicious a treat as a pizza, or a holiday festival? Yes it absolutely can! At least I think so. What do you think?

This blog’s intended readership — “people interested in reducing their eco footprint” — is a pretty wide audience. My tips may be too extreme for some, and not enough for others.

If you find some of the ideas expressed herein too extreme: Whatever makes sense and seems do-able, try it. And whatever seems out of reach or too extreme, leave it aside. “Take what you need, and leave the rest.”

If you generally like the content but are craving additional low-footprint-lifestyle tips: Join a community of people who are sharing tips and encouragement. My go-to’s are the Riot for Austerity, and Journey To Zero-Waste. Together we are pushing the envelope of low-footprint living!

I’m starting a running list of Frequently Asked Questions (or frequently received comments):

Q: “Do you think we can do this here?” {referring to community gardens, neighborhood composting, Repair Cafes, community toolsheds, public food forests, or some other monstrously cool thing that’s being done by people someplace other than “here”}

A: “Yes!” {Followed by utter silence. Because nothing else needs to be said. The truth is, people can do whatever they set out to do. Now, some folks might not be able/willing to join forces with other people to get whatever they want done. And some people might lack the tolerance for exploring different viewpoints on how to accomplish XYZ … but those are answers to different questions.}

Q (from someone not a close friend or family member): “I need help with professional service XYZ, but I can’t afford to pay you.” (I have heard this one from a number of rather wealthy people.)

A: “Then I can’t afford to work for you.” Or (in cases when you sense that the people have sincere intentions), “OK” {and then offer them a free resource, and let them know about the services you offer for a fee, if/when they want more.} (Learning to talk with people about your professional services is really important. We can’t build a sustainable society if people can’t make a living.)

Q: “Did you ride your BICYCLE all the way here?” {typically accompanied by a look of pity or horror}

A: “Yes.” {and it was great getting all that exercise and fresh air, while building social capital} “Did you drive your CAR all the way here?” {Mustering equally pitying, horrified look} Or: “Yes!!! Maybe you would ride with me next time!”

Q: “I worry about you riding your bicycle.”

A: “I worry about you driving your car.” {And at least on a bicycle, there’s almost zero chance I would ever get anyone else killed.} And: “Maybe we can go riding together sometime. It’s fun, and it might help ease your fears.”

Q: “I feel guilty because of {not recycling, or using paper napkins, or whatever}.”

A: “Yeah, I feel guilty too, for {eating nonlocal cheese, or forgetting to specify no straw, or buying a drink in a plastic cup}. But wallowing in guilt doesn’t help. We have to just keep moving forward.” And: “I’ve found it helpful to participate in groups of likeminded people, like Riot for Austerity and Journey To Zero-Waste. They’re both great sources of tips and moral support – why don’t you join us?”

Got any FAQ’s you’d like to add? Drop me a line!

As I mention in my book DEEP GREEN, there’s a much bigger point to a low-footprint lifestyle than just trying to take up as little space on the planet as possible (a sort of negative-image version of that old 1980s, yuppie bumper sticker “He who dies with the most toys wins”). Using energy-efficient lightbulbs, growing your own vegetables, reducing single-use plastics, and whatever else you do to minimize your eco footprint is great. 

But beyond that, the idea is to prune away the things that aren’t adding value to your life, so you have more time, energy, and money for the things that really matter to you. For example, you might realize you’re no longer loving your big expensive house, so you downsize to a less expensive place, which leaves you with more time and financial freedom to volunteer in your community or start a business. Ultimately, a deep-green lifestyle is about living deliberately and sharing your unique gifts with the world. 

In that spirit, today I’m highlighting two books about aiming high, living your own life, and sticking to your goals. 

The Boss Lady Investor, by Krista Goodrich with Grace Everitt

This book is aimed at young women, since the author realized that a lot of her peers were dangerously ignorant about finance. But regardless of your age or gender, you can probably learn something from this book unless you are already extremely financially literate and investing successfully (and maybe even then). 

Growing up, I never realized how fortunate I was that my Dad explained financial stuff to us kids. I just figured everyone knew the ins and outs of stocks, bonds, mutual funds, amortization, dollar-cost averaging, the rule of 72, etc. Wrong! Despite being relatively literate financially, I still learned new things from Krista’s book. I got my money’s worth just from Krista’s eye-opening charts that show how a rental house can be a lucrative venture even with a mortgage. (I had always thought a mortgage was a bad deal, and avoided them.) 

Older women, such as widows who traditionally relied on their husbands to handle household finances, would also get a lot out of this book, as might some men. Another target audience would be permaculture/sustainability folks, among whom limiting beliefs about money run rampant. 

I found the chatty, colloquial tone entertaining and engaging, and helpful in digesting the highly detailed information Krista provides. But even if you prefer a more formal tone, stick with the book; you’ll learn a lot. The chapters where Krista shares some of her personal ups and downs with finance are valuable as well. For me, it was a reminder that even people who seem to have it all together can get into financial trouble — and just as surely, with self-discipline and a bit of practical knowledge, anyone can get him/herself out of financial trouble. If you buy this book, you are sure to learn something useful about personal finance, and have a good time doing it. If you aspire to be a millionaire, the book offers plenty of practical information that, if you follow it, you will get there. This book is well worth the price ($14.99 for the paperback). I thank Krista, a fellow Daytona Beach author, for writing it.  

Serious Writers Never Quit — They Find the Way, by Bryan Hutchinson 

Writing is mostly about persistence and attitude. I’ve known this for a long time, but it’s always good to get a reminder. Bryan offers great tips for taking the pressure out of writing. We have to permit ourselves to write rough drafts, rather than hatch a perfect polished manuscript on the first pass. We have to write regularly. Daily. The word count doesn’t matter as much as the daily-ness. And most of all, the biggest lesson is in this sentence: “Ultimately, it’s what you tell yourself that makes you or breaks you as a writer, as an artist, and as a person.” In place of “writer,” you could fill in carpenter, gardener, musician, restaurateur, chef, investor, entrepreneur, farmer, or whatever it is you aim to make a living at. Or even for a personal goal like losing weight or quitting a bad habit. Though aimed at writers, Bryan’s advice is spot-on for anyone who aspires to be success at what they do. The main thing is not to quit.

This is an important lesson not only for individuals but for communities as well. If I had a dime for every wonderful small business I’ve heard of that has suffered “death by giving up,” I would be rich enough to buy all the vacant buildings on a local blighted commercial street and fill them with businesses. There are times when it’s a good idea to abandon an unsuccessful path. But in my observation, most people quit long before it would be a reasonable idea to do so. And not only individuals, but communities are poorer as a result. This is where the “sustainability” piece really comes in for me. People pursuing their highest aspirations create a regenerative society. When people hang back and don’t really go for it, there’s a deadening effect not only on the individual but also on the community. 

Bryan writes like a kindly big brother who understands your pain because he himself has known the same pain. For a mere $2.99, this Kindle ebook is a major shot in the arm that could lead you to write your bestselling book (or launch your successful farm or restaurant). Bryan’s tips for getting out from under perfectionism, and sticking with what you are serious about, are good advice for living in general. I’ve followed Bryan’s blog for a while now and bought one of his earlier books awhile back (Writer’s Doubt: The #1 Enemy of Writing and What You CAN Do About It), which I really enjoyed also. Serious Writers Never Quit is a fast read that’ll get you moving on your path. 

Full disclosure: I was initially motivated to write a review of Serious Writers Never Quit because Bryan offered to post a link to the website of any of his readers who posted a review of his book. That said, this is a 100% sincere review, and I recommend Bryan’s books to any writer — and just about anyone else who’s ever battled the deadly, paralyzing force of perfectionism. 

You can check out Bryan’s blog here.

First photo shows my yard in full-blown spring/summer mode, when the wildflowers I’ve encouraged to grow create a puffy riot of color. Second photo shows the same part of the yard in “Autumn stubble” mode.

Here in my part of Florida, we don’t really have seasons, at least not as most people know them. And yet, I am getting the same cozy, restful, waning-year feeling from sitting in my Florida garden right now, as I would get from visiting a stubbled northern field or meadow in fall.

After allowing the browned grasses and withered flower stems to remain in place for a couple of weeks, I cut them down and cut them into smaller pieces — my favorite yard tool is a big pair of antique steel scissors — and left them in place as mulch. (In permaculture we call this technique “chop and drop.” It provides an endless supply of protective and nourishing mulch for the soil, as well as preserving wildflower seed heads.) After the yard’s winter rest, next spring’s flowery burst will come as a fresh treat.

A few years back, some civically active folks in my area got permission to start a wildflower garden at a local library. But (according to the story as I heard it — I did not yet live here at the time) when the flowers entered their withery seedy phase, people complained. The garden was ripped out and replaced with turf grass.

What I might have done instead in this situation is “chop and drop” the browned vegetation, and make sure there were enough shrubs and other larger plants to maintain visual interest while the wildflowers had their seasonal rest. I also would have created some nice illustrated signs explaining the seasonal variation, and letting people know what wildflowers and other beauties to look for at different times of year. What a great opportunity to show people the beauty and surprise of seasonal variation.

The Florida Wildflower Foundation offers people the opportunity to take a “Pledge for Wildflowers.” Besides things like refraining from the use of chemicals and irrigation systems, the pledge includes being “conscious of wildflower and native plant life cycles and recognize that my plants might not look their best all the time.” Maybe the wildflower advocacy organization in your region has a similar pledge.

Another idea for perking up a resting landscape is to have whimsical yard sculptures. The brightly painted snake, lizard, and butterflies I’ve scattered all over my yard make an attractive focal point, and stand out more at times of year when the plants are resting from their lush phases.

There is a real beauty, and comfort, in allowing ourselves to experience the natural rhythms of the landscape. But in today’s chemically evergreen modern world (especially here in Florida, it seems), where plants get ripped out and replaced with new plants as soon as they stop looking “perfect,” people (especially people living in U.S. cities and suburbs) don’t naturally come by a love for that experience, and it is an acquired taste.

I have the benefit of having grown up in a family where we got out to the national and state parks on a regular basis, as well as being avid explorers of urban nature pockets. So I am fairly well educated about nature. Even so, I am always learning new ways to see nature. Although this is my tenth October in Florida, I have never before experienced October in Florida as a version of the deliciously cozy, earthy brown-stubbled time I loved as a child growing up in more northern climates (and as an adult, living in Japan, where autumn is magnificent). What a treat to get this new experience of “Florida fall”!

(Speaking of new takes on Florida fall, I once saw a neighbor’s hurricane sandbags that had been painted up to look like jack o’ lanterns!)

How about you? Any autumn harvest news to share? Drop me a line! And thanks always, beloved reader, for gracing my page with your presence.

“Hate” is a very strong word, which I try to avoid. But let’s just say I’m feeling pretty hatey at the moment — if not about cars themselves, then definitely about what they do to people.

• I hate how most people who own cars become utterly helpless without them. The car breaks down, and suddenly a person’s whole life is derailed; they can’t go anywhere.

I hate how even people who are on the low low end of the economy, barely scraping by, always manage to find money to pump into gasoline, car repairs, car insurance. No money to start a business or invest in something they’ve been really wanting (be it fruit trees, guitar lessons, or whatever), but always money to feed that endless money-hole that is automobile ownership.

I hate how car ownership reduces people’s willingness to be flexible; to rideshare or take the bus. Everyone wants to leave exactly when they want to leave, so every single person living in a house has to have their own damn car.

I hate how cars clutter yards and streets. I’ve been at people’s houses where you couldn’t even enjoy the view because the whole front yard and street were blocked by a wall of cars. Ditto for living next to such people. I don’t like to be that busybody neighbor who hates how someone elses’s yard looks; I would rather just be happy with expressing my decorating tastes in my own yard. But a yard jammed with cars is just invasively butt-ugly to me.

I hate how cars and parking dominate civic meetings about urban redevelopment; how an entire much-needed and wanted project can get derailed by some bureaucratically determined idea of “not enough parking.” How a discussion about an exciting project goes on for an hour, and 50 minutes of that hour is taken up by concerns about inadequate parking, or people feeling entitled to free parking. (There are bright spots; some cities are experimenting with reducing or eliminating parking minimums, with success.)

I hate how cars have given us the ability to travel twice or three times or ten times as far every day (for work, shopping, etc.) without really accomplishing any more, and arguably in fact becoming more worn-out, less healthy, more isolated, more socially impoverished — with radical reduction in time spent enjoying our homes, getting to know our neighbors, having time for hobbies, savoring the simple beauties of local life.

I hate that a property owner on our Main Street chose to tear down a nice old commercial building rather than leave it intact, because a parking lot was more lucrative than any use he/she could possibly have imagined for the building. I hate that it wasn’t the first time that happened.

I hate that any tree, anywhere, ever, has been killed to make room for a parking lot.

I hate that cars take up space in perfectly good driveways and garages that might better be used for higher purposes. (My new favorite “outdoor living room” is in my driveway! I’ve set up outdoor furniture in an inviting L arrangement. The furniture is positioned far enough back that the driveway can still serve that time-honored public function of driveways: giving motorists a way to turn around — yet it takes up enough of the driveway that no one can park there unless I choose to move the furniture.)

I hate that cars, even the small ones, are so big and clunky, taking up so much space in relation to the utility they provide. Why can’t the darn things just fold up tiny so they could fit in a back pocket, or at least a briefcase, once they’ve carried you to your destination? (On that subject, another article from Strong Towns: Can parking spaces stand to shrink?)

The good news is, many people and communities are finding ways to wean themselves off of car dependence, without losing the benefits of automotive transport or even necessarily having to forgo the joy of owning and driving a car (which is a real thing; I don’t own a motor vehicle now but I have in the past, and I understand the attraction).

Oh, one more thing: Family cross-country trips by car were a major, and to me very rich and beautiful, part of my childhood. Ditto for some long-distance solo roadtrips I was privileged to take as an adult. It is possible to hold those lovely memories of travel by automobile (and even to love truckstops and adore vintage gas-station signs, which I do), and still not like what cars have done to people and society.