The average human body takes up 3 square feet of human real estate on this planet. In the year 1950, the average 3-square-foot American consumed 292 square feet of house. By 2008, the same American increased his consumed space to 900 square feet. He takes up 300 times his size.
In crowded Hong Kong in the early 1900s, government policy mandated that each person have at least 35 square feet per person. I have 295; and even though that’s only a third of the U.S. average, it’s over 8 times the minimum required by the Hong Kong mandate.
Americans, Canadians and Australians report the most square feet per person. Japanese report the least.
Continue reading “Three Square Feet”
Rain foiled my intentions today to uproot winter from the yard. I’ve been avoiding the sad, forsaken planters and flower beds, once beautiful adornments now turned brown and brittle from the one-two punch of winter’s cold and my neglect. With the coming of warmer weather this past week, the kids have reclaimed the back yard, and dozens of red plastic cups litter the scene with secret botany experiments, “soups” I was told. Here and there between cups, the 4 and 5-year-old children proudly marked thirty-some of the dog’s land mines with bricks leftover from an addition project, an idea they thought quite imaginative. It’s as though, instead of spring, we are sprouting bricks. A collapsing, old Cozy Coupe is parked in front of the screened door, and “Nella” the scooter is parked haphazardly close so that you can’t open the door more than a few inches without hitting it. A bucket sits on the step with yet another soup that will spill its guts just as soon as someone decides to open the door and exit. Along the back fence, someone ran the Green Gator into the Cast Irons where it has idly collected leaves and pollen and more soups. I wonder how many mosquito larvae may be mixed in with this one, patiently waiting for the first day warm enough to hatch? Continue reading “Uprooting Winter”