Tag Archives: The Stewardship Way

Stewardship and Billy Beer

Wildlife & Plants, , ,

Yesterday morning I heard the familiar “Cha-ching” sound on my cell phone—the sound that tells me something just sold in my eBay store.

A few years ago, after retiring, I started The Conservation Company store as a way to clear out items we no longer needed. But over time, it became something more. It became one small way that I practice what I call a Stewardship Lifestyle—giving still-useful items a second chance at life instead of sending them to a landfill.

Along the way, the store also generates a little extra income—helping me keep my publications free of charge while supporting a few conservation organizations that are doing important work.

So what sold yesterday?

An empty can of Billy Beer.

Yes…an empty beer can.

Who would have thought?

To be honest, I have no idea where I originally came across this little collector’s gem. I do vaguely remember drinking a Billy Beer or two many years ago—and if memory serves me right…it wasn’t exactly unforgettable for the right reasons.

Still, somebody out there wanted it enough to buy it.

And that’s the point.

Stewardship doesn’t always look like planting trees, restoring wetlands, or building bird habitat. Sometimes it looks like giving an old collectible a second life, making a few extra bucks, and using that money to do a little good in the world.

That’s stewardship too.

If this little story got you thinking about your own choices, habits, or opportunities, you might enjoy my Conservation Lifestyles online magazine, where I share practical ideas for building your own Stewardship Way—where you live and work. Subscriptions are free at Conservation Lifestyles

A Walk at Papscanee

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Yesterday, Theresa and I decided to visit Papscanee Island Nature Preserve, located just six miles from our home—as the crow flies. Of course, crossing the Hudson River by car is a very different journey than flying in a straight line. About thirty minutes later, we arrived.

From the moment we stepped onto the loop trail, I was reminded why exploring local nature preserves has become such an important part of my Stewardship Lifestyle. The fresh spring air, the songs of birds hidden among the trees, the movement of the river, and the quiet sounds of the forest all have a way of helping me slow down, pay attention, and see things I might otherwise miss.

One of my favorite moments was spending time along the banks of the mighty Hudson—watching the water, studying the shoreline, and thinking about all the stories this river has carried over thousands of years.

But this visit was about more than just another enjoyable hike.

There was also a deeply personal reason why Papscanee was high on my list of places to visit—one connected to my own family history and a story that reaches back generations.

I’ll be sharing that story soon in a future article in The Nature of Things.

To follow along, you can subscribe for free at The Nature of Things

Where I Hang My Hat

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This morning I found myself thinking about how often I refer to the same few places when I write.

New York. Indiana. Florida.

At first, I thought that was just habit.

But the more I paid attention, the more I realized something else was going on.

These are the places where I have spent enough time to notice things.

Not just what is there—but what used to be there.

Not just what something looks like—but how it got that way.

A road that has been rerouted.

A hotel that disappeared.

A stream that doesn’t flow the way it once did.

The more I notice, the more I see that every place has a story.

And most of those stories are shaped by systems—natural systems, economic systems, and human decisions layered over time.

It made me wonder:

Maybe the place where you “hang your hat” is more important than you think.

Not because of where it is.

But because of what it allows you to see.

And maybe the first step in understanding anything…

is simply staying in one place long enough to notice what has changed.

If you want to read more about this CLICK HERE

What I Noticed at Hollyhock Hollow

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A couple of weeks ago, Theresa and I took a walk along Rarick Road through Hollyhock Hollow. Nothing unusual was planned—just a walk down Rarick Road, because the trails were still to soft and muddy. But as usual, I noticed a few things.

Winter still had a grip on the landscape. Snow lingered along the sides of the road, tucked into the shaded edges, not quite ready to give way. It was a reminder that the season doesn’t just switch—it loosens, slowly.

But right alongside that lingering cold, something else was happening.

Clusters of snowdrops were blooming—small, white, and easy to overlook if you weren’t paying attention. But there they were, pushing up through the cold ground, quietly signaling that spring is about to bust through.

There weren’t many birds. A few here and there, but nothing like the chorus that will come. Still, the plants are beginning to green up, and that shift is noticeable if you take the time to look.

And the Onesquethaw Creek was moving steadily along, rolling its way toward the Hudson River. It didn’t seem concerned about winter holding on or spring pushing in. It was just doing what it does—moving forward.

As I looked back through the photos later, it struck me that what I was really noticing wasn’t just what I was seeing—but how I was seeing it. The overlap. The transition. The quiet movement from one season to the next.

That led me to experiment with something new—a short video set to a song I created called The Stewardship Way.

Maybe the Stewardship Way isn’t something you arrive at all at once.

Maybe it begins by noticing…
that even when winter still lingers, something new is already on its way.