Photo above is of the author's fridge. It became dry storage space when the author, Andrea Peloso, unplugged it.

It is January in Paris and I secure a well-wrapped bag of Brie outside my third floor window.

Street lamps shine on deep green leaves as snow melts in the air. I roll my window back, holding the edge of the plastic bag until the bag is firmly held in the protective corner of my outside window. With one kitchen and hundreds of students I would be giving my food to the next starving student were I to risk the fridge.

Four years later, I stand in front of what sounds like a fridge with bronchitis. I have just arrived at my new Toronto apartment during a troubling January of autumn-like winds.

Craving sleep against the noise, and for some power to stop the seasons from shifting, my fridge starts to seem less like a tool and more like a heel. The image of my window in Paris returned to my mind, with my simple bag of Brie and bread.

Torontonians know about shifting temperatures. Winters can be extremely cold, summers sweaty. Thoreau says, “The luxuriously rich are not simply kept comfortably warm, but unnaturally hot.” Last year, my fridge felt unnaturally cold. Right outside my window I had an abundance of cold. I did not need a machine to produce more. In what felt like a radical decision in North America, I unplugged my fridge.

The soft quiet that followed offered an immediate reward. My shoulders slightly relaxed and I felt more connected to the ease of my time in Europe, of anticipating local markets and eating simply. I mused that living more lightly off of the earth would be to feel lighter myself. After all, we remain inseparable from this planet.

As one of the countries in the world with the highest carbon emissions, it’s no accident that often our lives in Canada have the highest degree of small, but cumulative stress.

We over do life and then escape to places with a much lower consumption rate for our vacations to regain some sense of balance. Spain, the Caribbean, we need to visit places where rhythms impelling us to stop are woven into the fabric of life, be it the call of the beach, a siesta, or a two hour meal with friends.

Our conveniences have isolated us from the earth and the cycles of the earth. Many of us can choose to unplug and come out of the closet, acknowledge that to be human is to be connected with our true source of life, the earth.

After unplugging my fridge, I found myself in new conversations with my family. I learned more about my father’s family grocery store. They had built a barn and insulated it with sawdust. A man with horse and cart sold them huge chunks of ice that he had sawed from the river that winter.

This ice lasted all year stored in their barn and they used it to keep the meat cold in the store that served Guelph Little Italy. I was amazed that with absolutely no power other than a horse and strong arms, and ingenuity, that they were able to maintain a grocery store that fed the neighbourhood for an entire year.

When I told my mom that I was writing this article, her warning was: “I hope that people don’t sue you from getting food poisoning.” Of course, you don’t want to throw the basic science of hygiene out with your fridge.

Surprisingly, there is little that needs refrigeration. Cups of herbs or red chard in water are a cheerful but constant reminder of the passage of time and will keep one alert to their metamorphoses.

There is nothing more invigorating than the smell of fresh mint upon coming home. Even eggs last. Root vegetables, onions, peppers, and zucchini will stay true. I realized after turning off my fridge that somehow I had equated the existence of my fridge with the natural life of my food. Amazingly, the food came first and was fine until around 50 years ago with refrigeration.

To actually see my food makes me feel blessed and keeps me aware of what I need to eat. When I wish to consume something perishable, I simply grab what I need for the day as I pass a shop on my way to the subway. I always pass somewhere where I can pick something up and toss it into my bag, or pocket like a regular Huckleberry Finn. Sometimes having food stockpiled would have warded off a late night run to the grocer.

It has not always been perfect.

The first weeks were the hardest, because I did not know how to shop to keep enough food at home. Still, I wouldn’t go back to that big appliance that is always on. There is a feeling of freedom to be gained in taking just what one needs.

One of the biggest drawbacks of not having a fridge can by summed up by my friend and ecologist Albert’s question: "But what about ice cream?" Albert had decided to accompany me on this journey in his own way.

Indeed. What about ice cream or a cold beer?

Albert’s solution was to use his non-heated mudroom in winter and to get a very small ecologically sound fridge for the summer.

I chose a cooler and snow in winter, and the Annex sherbet stand in the summer.

I recently refrigerated some ginger carrot soup by putting a small pot into a larger soup pot filled with pure snow and protecting it with a wool blanket. It was a great feeling when it worked.

In the past, leftovers were like a guest that had worn out their welcome. Now, I began to take fresh leftovers to share with my neighbour and I became the guest. I liked sharing food discoveries, for instance, the organic local apples I brought. Bradley realized that they actually tasted better than what he normally bought. When I had a bad cold, Bradley heard me coughing through the walls, called and offered to buy some oranges for me. In an unsocial condo setting, we forged a true bond.

It has been over a year since I used a fridge. I feel better about the future living without relying too heavily on waning resources. My experience of life without a fridge is that my life is healthier. I am more relaxed and more in touch with the rhythms of the earth and food. I have a greater sense of connection to the ingenuity of my ancestors. Almost no food goes to waste. I have a peaceful sounding home, a new neighbor, and a deeper feeling of harmony with nature and the changing seasons.

Living sans fridge is an easy way to start living more lightly before it is too late.

Author's note: I'd really like people to try this if they can. Here's an e-mail address I created just in case anyone wants to ask me about it: ditchyourfridge,,,yahoo.ca And there is a yahoo group. ditchyourfridge,,,yahoogroups.com

Andrea Peloso is a yoga teacher who has lived and studied around the world. She lives in Toronto.