My sister looked at me with horror as I threw the egg shells and coffee grinds from the morning’s breakfast into the trash. Loretta was visiting from California, where she is one of those people who is always trying to save the planet. I wouldn’t mind so much, except that I’m not. Some years back during another one of her visits, Loretta convinced me to start recycling. She said it’s not so much for our benefit, but for the next generations. I have two nephews whom I adore, so she got to me with that one. I now rinse out every soda bottle and can of beans, flatten each cereal carton and milk container, and can be counted on to have two weeks’ worth of newspapers on hand come recycling day.
Now my recycling efforts are not enough. Loretta rode into Chelmsford this time on her composting high horse. She even threatened to take her mango rinds and banana peels back to San Francisco with her, rather than watch me throw them out. Not wanting to alienate the traveling public – Loretta is the queen of carry-ons – I gave in. She tells me compost “does wonders with the garden, too.” I’m not a gardener, but my husband is. I figure while I’m helping Loretta save the planet, I can rack up some frequent favor miles with Jack when I help him beautify his clematis and sunflowers this spring. Ok, now what?
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