I almost crashed several times while driving out of my neighborhood this week.
The lane is not tricky, and the snow didn’t faze me. The bright contrast of a white blanket cast
gently over the land usually soothes me, in fact. Trees and bushes slumbering peacefully, tucked in with a nice thick comforter, reminds me not to ignore natural signals. Summer’s riot of leaves and vines exploding into every slip of sunlight invigorates me when the sun shines. I’d be crazy to expect growth during the long nights, cold, and ice. Do not rush, nature reminds me, night is a time for rest and rejuvenation.
No, I like the way nature shows me that my humanity doesn’t separate me from the world.
I just wasn’t expecting chainsaws clear cutting the forest, dead trees stacked up along the side in ever increasing piles. I don’t know if there is a season for death.
Sure, my neighbors own their property. I don’t have any legal claim. I also know the world needs wood, and maybe these trees would prevent more plastic or strip mines. Maybe the cutting is part of a sustainable harvesting plan. Or maybe they will replace the trees with native species, providing them and the other life in the forest with restorative food and shelter. It’s possible, right?
I drive slowly, twisting my neck to glimpse any evidence I can give that perhaps unreasonable hope. Every day the dead tree piles get bigger, and I peer more closely.
A giant truck, here to collect the bodies, is definitely new.
The lane is slippery, and even driving slowly doesn’t replace careful attention to driving. I recover, but guess I’ll just have to find some time to walk over once they are finished.
Anything is possible, right?