Blue Bungalow Farm

We’re in the midst of what is so far the worst heat wave of the summer here in Wisconsin, which, if you’ve been following weather news, is lucky for us – our heat waves have been short and few compared with those in our southern states. Nonetheless, 95 Fahrenheit with a triple digit heat index in Wisconsin is only a bit more tolerable than it is down south. I can personally attest to this, having just returned from a trip to Kilgore, Texas. 

 

A few weeks ago I shared that I rarely run my A/C, but that the heat then was so uncomfortable at over 90+ degrees that I couldn’t take it anymore. After a sweltering trip to the Tosa Farmers Market I returned home and did something I do *maybe* once a year: I turned on my air conditioning for about 12 hours. Thankfully, that heat wave moved east and soon it was cooler outside than in. We turned off the A/C, opened our windows, and welcomed that typical summer evening smell of campfires from the neighborhood and the cool Lake Michigan breeze.

 

Now we're in the middle of a much tougher heat wave, the kind where advisories flash everywhere and the weather reporters are a-buzz with warnings to avoid heat exhaustion. In the past I have suffered through such hot spells without the A/C, but this year, I don't know if the heat is worse or my resolve is weaker, but my husband and I decided to use our working central air -- just a little. As stated in my last post, this is what transitioning is all about: moderation, not extremism.

 

That said, I really hate running the A/C, for three main reasons:

 

1. It's expensive. We save hundreds a year not using our air conditioner.

 

2. It's not very green. Running the A/C constantly increases a household's carbon emissions and wastes dwindling fossil fuels. 

 

3. It's isolating, disconnecting us from life outdoors. My husband and I wait all winter to enjoy opening our windows to the sounds and smells of summer. Hiding out cooler indoors in the summer feels like February, or like hanging out in a restaurant refrigerator all day.

 

Part of what I love about life in Milwaukee is that stifling heat doesn't last too long. It's easy to withstand a few days of heat when you know the winds will soon shift, bringing in lake breezes from the east or rain from the west. So traveling to Kilgore was a little unsettling, and not because of the abundance of non-ironic cowboy hats and drive-through daiquiri stands. It was unsettling because of the rampant abuse of air conditioning. Granted, it was ungodly hot in all the states we passed through on our way to see my little sister Meaghan perform in the Texas Shakespeare Festival, including Illinois, Missouri, Arkansas; the typical heat index was over 100 daily. Texas was the worst: as my dad observed, in East Texas it is both uncomfortably dry and humid at the same time. Standing in sun is a bit like being a vampire at daybreak. Your skin feels like it's going to burst into flames. 

 

It's downright uncomfortable, ya'll.

 

The strange thing to me, though, wasn't the heat. Most of the U.S. is uncomfortably hot right now. The thing that got me is how cold all the buildings we entered are kept. It is normal to go from 105 to 65 upon entering a commercial building in Texas. That kind of temperature shift can't be good for a person, nor for the energy grid.

 

These big box stores, malls, movie theaters, hotels, and restaurants are so cold they make the outside feel hot as hell. Why would anyone go outside when they are chilled and surrounded by screens, pretty products, and junk food? We saw almost no one on the streets in Kilgore. It was kind of like Wisconsin during a blizzard, but with green leaves on the trees.

 

After being cooped up for 48 hours, I was determined to experience the (not so) great outdoors in Kilgore. So I decided one evening to walk from our hotel to Texas Shakespeare's presentation of Hamlet. It was hot. There were no sidewalks, which was scary because I wore sandals and had to walk through a lot of grass. Know what creatures tend to live in Texas grass? Fire ants. The scenery consisted mostly of some of the nation's most omnipresent chain stores (McDonald's, Dollar General), a fair share of abandoned gas stations, and dozens of oil derricks*. At one point on my walk I smelled rotting hamburger in front of an abandoned building. I looked down and there was a dead tabby cat baking in the heat. By the time I arrived at the theater a mile up the road I was covered in slimy sweat and gasping for air from the humidity. 

 

 

It's not an understatement that my walk was a harrowing experience. It made me understand why folks hide out in giant refrigerators this time of year. And yet, that walk was the first time of our five-day road trip where I felt alive. In addition to all the less-than-pleasant sights (and smells), I also saw an abundance of gorgeous crepe myrtles in full bloom lining the streets, a variety of birds, and lots of dragonflies. I heard the happy sound of cicadas rattling in the trees. Aside from that one patch with the dead cat I smelled that sweet late-summer odor of fully mature flora. And I was getting some much needed exercise, to boot. Sure, it was hotter 'n' I've experienced in a long time – maybe ever. But I got out of my hotel room isolation and encountered real life. 

 

My only regret was how lonely it felt that late afternoon -- the only humans around were tightly sealed inside the refrigerated cars that whizzed by.

 

Now, I don't mean to judge. Perhaps a majority of Texans find this summer lock-down enjoyable. I found it depressing. And I couldn't help but wonder if this hyper-air conditioned lifestyle is on borrowed time. It is an unsustainable kind of existence, seems to me. Its time will end as did the time of the active oil derricks in downtown Kilgore, which, thanks to the East Texas Oil Field, was once home to the "World's Richest Acre." 

 

The thing that gets me most about this is how cold the commercial buildings are. OK, so air conditioning, if a person can afford the luxury, keeps the elderly and infirm safe during wicked heat. It keeps the rest of us comfortable and sane. But does the temperature really need to be in the 60s inside our buildings during a hot spell? Wouldn't the mid-to-upper 70s be OK? While I will admit that it feels very refreshing to step inside an ice-cold building during a hot spell (kind of like jumping into a pool), after a few minutes the air inside begins to feel as cold as autumn "sweater weather." Is this necessary? I think not. Surely just bringing up the thermostat a few degrees would save money and fuel and even be more comfortable. It would also reduce the extreme gap between indoor and outdoor temperatures. I don't know about you, but for me, moving between extreme temps tends to give me a headache. 

 

Right now, believe it or not, the Blue Bungalow's thermostat is set at 78. This is just enough to take the edge off the stifling heat. Sure, it's stuffy in our house, and I don' t love it. But I do love that our energy bill will remain low, and that I am not so adjusted to the cold that I can't stand being outdoors when it's above 80 degrees outside. I can still walk my dog and weed my garden without going into complete shock. 

 

Adjusting the thermostat even a few degrees does make a difference. We Energies' most recent blog post currently addresses heat waves and AC efficiency tips, including this tidbit: the American Council for an Energy-Efficient Economy "estimates that air conditioners use 3 to 5 percent less energy for every degree you raise the thermostat. ACEEE recommends a thermostat setting of 78 degrees or higher when you’re out." If you want to reduce energy consumption and save money while running the A/C, in addition to turning up the thermostat you can participate in We's Energy Partners program, through which you'll receive bill credits from WE for allowing them "to turn off your AC compressor during rare times...of extreme electricity demand." 

 

Despite the heat, I enjoyed my trip to Kilgore. I enjoyed it even more when I decided to brave the outdoors and walk outside. My lil' sis Meaghan and the rest of the Texas Shakespeare company rocked. Their performances of Hamlet, Taming of the Shrew, The Beaux' Stratagem were top notch. Major props to my sister, too, for spending her entire summer in the hellishly-hot Kilgore AND running, OUTDOORS, almost daily. She's an example of how one can live well during a heat wave. 

 

*Kilgore's oil derricks, I learned, are fakes: Kilgore became a boom town in the 1930s and, at that time, the skyline consisted of hundreds of real wooden oil rigs. They eventually came down when the boom went to bust. Decades later, in the late twentieth century, a group of folks erected dozens of ornamental steel replicas of the original derricks. See www.khpf.org/derrickproject.html).