I am an urbanite. I love the changing scale of buildings as much as the people and action and opportunity on city streets. Of course, the best cities are not just steel, glass, and concrete, they are interwoven with greenspace and waterways, which provide contrast to the hard, manmade surfaces. The more I learn about sustainability, I more I notice not just parks, but the green in-between spaces as well: sidewalk verges, front gardens (elusive, intriguing back gardens), empty lots, and edges left to grow wild. I find joy in unexpected shady spots and pockets of abundant excesses.

I had been meaning to write about the benefit of nature in cities, when suddenly urban greenspace became frontpage news.

When my then teen-aged son dabbled in anarchy, many of our conversations had me playing the role of capitalist defender. You know the arguments: capitalism and democracy are constructive partners that provide consumers with goods and allow hard-working entrepreneurs to thrive.  I consider myself a social democrat, but clearly my acceptance of business as usual hadn’t changed since high school. The result of our debates? My son has matured into an upstanding and productive citizen actively improving society, and I have gotten an education.

The pandemic has changed the way we use the built environment. Millions of us have had to jury-rig corners of our houses and apartments to create space for work and schooling for ourselves and our families. As a result, many articles and programs with advice for video conferencing and day-planning have popped up to help us.

There has been little discussion, though, of how these changes to how we live, work, and learn will alter the way we use and the way we should design the spaces we call home.

The last blog I published was a year ago!

At the time I was feeling hopeful because renewable energy was challenging fossil fuels, and climate justice was newsworthy. Despite political frustrations, communities seemed to have the wind behind their backs. Myriad articles, books and podcasts were published that addressed consumerism and gratuitous growth. I stopped writing because I was listening, learning and trying to synthesize the encouraging information and stories about changemakers and change

appearing from all directions.

And then we fell headfirst into the pandemic and, as we know, life changed.

We spend large parts of our lives inside buildings. We expect them to stay warm or cool. We expect them to be equipped with all the lighting and gadgets we need to live well and work efficiently. Energy-use is often an afterthought, until we get our utility bills.  But how would you rate the buildings you live and work in?

 Amid the noisy teeming streets and crowded sidewalks that form the gray and brick grid of lower Manhattan lie a surprising number of lush green spaces that harbor winding garden paths and leafy amphitheaters. These are the Neighborhood Gardens of the ‘Loisada’ in the Lower East Side. Started by local initiatives, often decades ago, they have been supported since 1978 by the city’s Green Thumb Project.

I am an urban animal, but part of me relishes getting my hands dirty. Houseplants in my care are doomed, but anything edible in our tiny garden has sacred status. The harvest makes the effort worth it. Gardening for most of my friends here in Switzerland is limited to balconies, but next to the required geraniums is a jungle of herbs, tomatoes and peppers. We have lost so much control over where our food comes from and these small utopias connect us to agrarian self-reliance.

 Urban traffic across the United States continues to increase apace. But it is not just motor vehicle traffic anymore. More and more cyclists are demanding their share of the road, and cities, towns and communities are giving them just that. Cycling is the fastest growing mode of transportation in the United States, with cyclists and motorists benefiting from the numerous new bike lanes and bike share programs rolling out across the country.

 My childhood in the semi-rural fringes of suburbia was far removed from the plagues of industrialization. While uncontrolled runoff from agriculture, industry and sewers was wreaking damage to the rivers and lakes of the Northeastern United States, I was playing in our backwoods and frolicking on the broad South Jersey beaches. The oil refineries we passed on our way to the city were more fascinating than demonic. But water pollution crept slowly into my awareness.

Wait, don’t throw that out - I’m taking it for lunch tomorrow!

I try hard not to throw food away. Not having a large US-size refrigerator makes it easier, as there is less chance of losing track of food in our modestly scaled Swiss fridge. But I still throw away more food than I feel good about. Bread is especially hard to keep track of (no, I can’t freeze it - my freezer is just as small).

Every couple of months there seems to be a new label here in Switzerland, for clothing and food, for appliances and buildings, even for cities. When I go shopping I find a veritable alphabet soup of so-called “ecolabels.” Building industry journals can be even more confusing. Each country seems to have its own building label and sustainability certification in addition to individual product label.

Every once in a while I come across an idea that makes me wonder why no one thought of it before. We were talking about the idea of “smart sharing” in a discussion group I belong to, and a friend asked, "have you heard about the mailbox stickers in Zurich?

How can we influence the larger energy market when we, as consumers, have no say over where our electricity comes from? Most communities in the United States draw their energy from large regional utilities; 70% of electricity comes from investor-owned suppliers.

With the start of spring, I start to think about gardens and garbage, or rather compost. We live in an apartment, but we do have a small patch of garden out our terrace door. It is about 10 square yards (10m2), but since we’ve lived here, I have planted herbs, tomatoes, lettuce and kale and chilies (the latter two are hard to find in Switzerland). For a good garden you need compost.

Switzerland has one of the best public transport systems in the world. I can get pretty much anywhere via an incredible network of trains, trams, buses and cable cars, often faster that I could by car (including time to find parking) with the added luxury of being able to read, work or socialize at the same time. Public transport is definitely a perk of living here.

Government leaders, policy specialists and climate change experts gathered recently in Paris for the COP21 - the “Conference of the Parties” to the United Nations initiative on climate change that began 21 years ago.

For those of us who have enough, our dependency on fossil fuels and other non-renewable resources is deeply embedded in the way we[1] live, in what we take for granted (water, warmth, mobility) and how we express ourselves (new, bigger, better).