Look to many of history's cultural symbols, and there you'll find an ancestor of Frosty, the snowman in the movie Frozen. It appeared on some of the first postcards, starred in some of the earliest silent movies, and was the subject of a couple of the earliest photos, dating all the way back to the 1800s. I discovered even more about one of humanity's earliest forms of life art during several years of research around the world.

    For example, snowmen were a phenomenon in the Middle Ages, built with great skill and thought. At a time of limited means of expression, snow was like free art supplies dropped from the sky. It was a popular activity for couples to leisurely walk through town to view the temporary works of chilly art. Some were created by famous artists, including a 19-year-old Michelangelo, who in 1494 was appointed by the ruler of Florence, Italy, to build a snowman in his mansion's courtyard.

    The Miracle of 1511 took place during six freezing works called the Winter of Death. The city of Brussels was covered in snowmen—an impressive scene that told stories on every street corner. Some were political in nature, criticizing the church and government. Some were a reflection of people's imagination. For the people of Brussels, this was a defining moment of defining freedom. At least until spring arrived, by which time they were dealing with damaging floods.

    If you fear the heyday of the snowman has passed, don't worry: I've learned that some explosive snowman history is still being made today. Every year since 1818, the people of Zurich, Switzerland, celebrate the beginning of spring by blowing up a snowman. On the third Monday of April, the holiday Sechselauten is kicked off when a cotton snowman called the Boogg is stuffed with explosive and paraded through town by bakers and other tradesmen who throw bread to the crowds. The parade ends with the Boogg being placed on a 40-foot pile of firewood. After the bells of the Church of St. Peter have rung six times, representing the passing of winter, the pile is lit. When the snowman explodes, winter is considered officially over—the quicker it is burnt down, the longer summer is said to be.

Live with roommates? Have friends and family around you? Chances are that if you're looking to live a more sustainable lifestyle, not everyone around you will be ready to jump on that bandwagon.

I experienced this when I started switching to a zero waste lifestyle five years ago, as I was living with my parents, and I continue to experience this with my husband, as he is not completely zero waste like me. I've learned a few things along the way though, which I hope you'll find encouraging if you're doing your best to figure out how you can make the change in a not-always-supportive household.

Zero waste was a radical lifestyle movement a few years back. I remember showing my parents a video of Bea Johnson, sharing how cool I thought it would be to buy groceries with jars, and have so little trash! A few days later, I came back with my first jars of zero waste groceries, and my dad commented on how silly it was for me to carry jars everywhere. It came off as a bit discouraging.

Yet as the months of reducing waste continued, I did what I could that was within my own reach. I had my own bedroom, so I worked on removing things I didn't need. Since I had my own toiletries (洗漱用品), I was able to start personalising my routine to be more sustainable. I also offered to cook every so often, so I portioned out a bit of the cupboard for my own zero waste groceries. Perhaps your household won't entirely make the switch, but you may have some control over your own personal spaces to make the changes you desire.

As you make your lifestyle changes, you may find yourself wanting to speak up for yourself if others comment on what you're doing, which can turn itself into a whole household debate. If you have individuals who are not on board, your words probably won't do much and can often leave you feeling more discouraged.

So here is my advice: Lead by action.

In 1916, two girls of wealthy families, best friends from Auburn, N. Y.—Dorothy Woodruff and Rosamond Underwood—traveled to a settlement in the Rocky Mountains to teach in a one-room schoolhouse. The girls had gone to Smith College. They wore expensive clothes. So for them to move to Elkhead, Colo. to instruct the children whose shoes were held together with string was a surprise. Their stay in Elkhead is the subject of Nothing Daunted: The Unexpected Education of Two Society Girls in the West by Dorothy Wickenden, who is a magazine editor and Dorothy Woodruff's granddaughter.

Why did they go then? Well, they wanted to do something useful. Soon, however, they realized what they had undertaken.

They moved in with a local family, the Harrisons, and, like them, had little privacy, rare baths, and a blanket of snow on their quilt when they woke up in the morning. Some mornings, Rosamond and Dorothy would arrive at the schoolhouse to find the children weeping from the cold. In spring, the snow was replaced by mud over ice.

In Wickenden's book, she expanded on the history of the West and also on feminism, which of course influenced the girls' decision to go to Elkhead. A hair-raising section concerns the building of the railroads, which entailed（牵涉）drilling through the Rockies, often in blinding snowstorms. The book ends with Rosamond and Dorothy's return to Auburn.

Wickenden is a very good storyteller. The sweep of the land and the stoicism（坚忍）of the people move her to some beautiful writing. Here is a picture of Dorothy Woodruff, on her horse, looking down from a hill top: "When the sun slipped behind the mountains, it shed a rosy glow all around them. Then a full moon rose. The snow was marked only by small animals: foxes, coyotes, mice, and varying hares, which turned white in the winter."