Truly living 'green' takes more than lip service

AT 19, NEARING THE END of my sophomore year of college, I begged Mom to let me hit the road with four girls and one 30-something college professor on a cross-country camping adventure. Our goal: Study the nation's geology and environment.

After reassuring her we wouldn't fall into the Grand Canyon, Mom forked over the money.

Six weeks. Six college credits. Six people about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime.

The open road awaited.

It was pretty heady stuff for a communications major minoring in geology (with aspirations of becoming a famous environmental television reporter). But it was the end of the decadent '80s - when "conservation" was still a foreign idea to many - and few of our peers couldn't understand us wanting to "be one" with Mother Earth.

Outfitted with a pop-up camper, textbooks, a glove compartment full of John Denver tapes and enough outdoor gear to open an L.L. Bean store, we hit the road when classes ended that spring.

We started in the Smoky Mountains, eager to study their formation, explore plate tectonics and set up camp.

On Day One, we discovered it's a lot easier to theorize about living close to the land than to actually do it.

Planning the trip, we'd decided to camp in our pop-up and tents (as opposed to staying in motels). We'd eschew fast food, use little gas and water (conserving natural resources) and leave the tiniest possible carbon footprint.

According to Mr. James, that entailed three-minute showers. With cold water. Every other day. Oh, and toilet paper rations.

Such was our introduction to the Green Movement.

By the time we got to Utah, hot and stinky and carsick, we were burned out on bonding with nature. A hike through glorious Arches National Park in Moab, though, brought us around again.

From the Grand Canyon to Bryce Canyon, Mount St. Helen to Mount Rainer, the Petrified Forest to Yellowstone, we realized this land is indeed our land and that Americans should be doing more to protect it. (The acid rain-torched trees were enough alone to convince us.)

Invigorated, we took even shorter showers (get wet, water off, lather, water on, rinse, done), prepared wholesome meals, recycled paper (using both sides for schoolwork), and conserved gas and money as best we could.

By the end of our six weeks, road weary and brain drained from studying by flashlight, our term papers concluded it's easy to talk a good conservation game, but it's hard to maintain one.

That's why I'm fascinated by this week's Home cover story. Stuart Rose has built his own Garden of Eden, a home that's green in every sense of the word. Even better, he wants folks to see it and welcomes them in to be inspired.

Looking back on my trip, it was one of the greatest experiences of my life - giving me wonderful friends, incredible memories and a sincere appreciation for what it means to live green.

Home staff writer Jeanne Mooney accepted the offer and takes us for a tour of his amazing home. Check out Jeanne's story for a closer look.

Still, I'm green with envy at what Mr. Rose has achieved.