There was a small stretch of land we used as a short cut. It ran between the houses in my neighborhood and the local town park. Really, it was a small meadow. We were lucky enough to taste its wild berries and apples as well as witness new born fawn and other wildlife that made it their home. Groundhogs and rabbits were routine as well as the song birds that skipped through the thrush. Of course, it was the kind of place that, in the summertime, was very busy with all the insects doing their thing…...lightning bugs glowing, butterflies suspended in the air.
In the spring, it was an old crabapple tree that stood at the edge between the high school practice field and the meadow that was my favorite. It was only in bloom for about 3 to 4 days out of the whole year. While shut, the buds were bright pink balls which blossomed into white flowers with pink centers. The fragrance was indescribable, but I will try. It was delicate and floral; kind of sweet like tart candy, but with more freshness like fruit. It had something very unique too. It was the unique quality that I guess wasn’t part of our everyday palate of fragrances. And the fragrance wasn’t really detectable in a regular sort of way. It was more like the way a person looks to the side of a star and can see it better rather than looking at it straight on. I think this is called “averted vision”. It’s the same way with these blossoms. It's best maybe, to let the fragrance come to you, envelop you. Perhaps, waiting for a breeze to come by carrying the scent with it…….
About 5 years ago, things began to change in the meadow. The electric company needed to work on some of the wires that ran through there. The problem was, underneath the wires was a row of decades old raspberry bushes. The vines which had become thick with age and in a beautifully tangled mess prohibited the workers from easy access. So, they sprayed the bushes that for so many years my children and my neighbors delighted in. I’m not sure what they sprayed them with, but the effect was immediate. The beautiful purple vines turned gray. Stuffing down the flush of anger that rose up, I tried looking on the bright side. “There were still other places to forage wild berries” I told myself. You can’t stop progress, right? But then this past summer, I guess the township wanted to make way for a larger baseball field. I mean, they already had three, but this one had special specifications. And so, they decided to level our little field. My kids would come home from band camp each day to report what the bulldozers were doing, what it looked like and how unfair it was. It is hard to grasp how quickly a landscape can be leveled by a bulldozer. I went a little numb. Maybe that sounds a little dramatic, but it’s true. It’s not really my go to response either…. But maybe I was trying to prepare myself for what I would see.
It took me weeks to head up there. Maybe it's one’s memory or brain, but either way, there is something that tries to fill in the gaps. It just happens kind of automatically. We are wired after all to make sense of things. It gives a reference point. This is what my mind tried to do, superimpose what used to be over the vastly changed landscape as a way of understanding. It kind of looked like another planet. There was too much of a contrast, and my mind quickly relented.
This story would not be complete if it did not mention my neighbors who love this area as much I do. There is a couple who regularly take walks with their dog through the woods noticing the seasonal changes as I do. Their children are adults now, but I know they count themselves lucky to have grown up near a place like this. And then there is another neighbor, who is a retired teacher and a local naturalist/botanist/forager. Not long before the field was leveled I saw him pruning the branches of one of the meadow’s apple trees. They weren’t his trees, but nevertheless, he cared for them. When running into him, he often graces us with many interesting stories about the area when all of the land was farmland. I ran into him walking through the woods on Christmas Eve and we discussed that little patch of land. His first words: “everything changes”. I wasn’t sure if these words came as the sage advice of someone I truly respect and has seen many changes or as I had done….covert self protection :) Ultimately, everything does change and it’s healthy to adopt such a resilient attitude. Getting there, to the acceptance part, is what at times can be difficult, but I digress.
Maybe we need to rethink what progress is? This was an ecosystem. The meadow was a living organism. It had parts that were dependent, interrelated and working in balance and harmony, from the animals to the insects and flora, each part affecting the whole. Take away or damage one part and it affects the rest. Take away the blossoms and it affects the bees. Take away the bees and it affects our food supply. Spray chemicals meant to kill our shrubs and they find their way into our water systems and into our soil. We too are all part of a larger ecosystem. It’s called Earth! That’s why even though this happened in my backyard, it affects the greater whole. We are now seeing this over and over as the earth struggles to maintain balance and sustain resources.
There are things we can do though to support our beautiful Earth and to help bring her back to balance. I learn new ways all the time and You probably already know lots of ways too. Here are just a few more tried and true examples: pick up litter on your walk, digging up, cutting down or learning to live with some weeds instead of spraying them with chemicals, recycle, reduce and reuse, composting, hugging a tree, supporting local and national environmental groups.
There are endless ways…..I did a Google search of “how to help the environment” and came up with all kinds of sites with good ideas. Now that’s progress!
