Everyone agrees, the sticker shock at the gas pump has left us all a little dazed. I wince when I think that a single tank of gas costs more than my high school church camp. I saved up for that for months. It costs a fifth of my freshman semester tuition at ISU.
Intellectually I understand inflation and economic realities, but emotionally my eyes water.
All the conservative pundents have shared their solutions to our gas price blues, so I wasn’t surprised to hear them trot out their old chestnut of an answer to all our fuel problems. Everything will be better if only we would drill in the Artic National Wildlife Refuge.
I have to give them points for persistence.
Located in northeast Alaska, the Arctic Refuge is the biological heart of this untamed wilderness. It contains the greatest diversity of animal life of any conservation area in the circumpolar region. Often called the “American Serengeti” ANWR is the wildest place left in America. Numerous species depend on this fragile, unique ecosystem for survival.
As the Politicos babbled, I could hear the faint strains of banjo music in my head, and see all the happy oil executives standing around the “cement pond” talking about the “bubbling crude” and smiling about the prospect of even more record profits.
A song came to mind, of course accompanied by Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs on their five string banjos. Please sing along to the tune of “The Ballad of Jed Clampett”, or otherwise known as the Beverly Hillbilly’s theme.
The Ballad Of ANWR Drilling
Come and listen to a story ‘bout a bunch of phonies,
rich oil men and their oilmen cronies.
With oil prices high, they resurrected their dream,
To drill the Artic refuge is the devious scheme.
Oil that is, black gold, Texas tea.
Well, first thing they do is mention oil on the air,
Life will be better if we get it out of there.
The democrats don’t love ya if they won’t let us drill.
Who cares about the ecosystem that we’ll kill.
Caribou that is, snow geese, polar bears.
Of course drilling won’t get started for quite a few years,
And it won’t actually help us dry our present tears,
And when we get it going who’ll share the news,
ANWR’s only 5% of our total use.
Not much that is, drop in a bucket, fools gold.
..........................................
And every time pro-drilling advocates lose another round, they just smile in their mansions and say, “We’ll all be back now, y’hear”.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
CONFORMING THRU THE AGES
DATELINE: BETHLEHEM 2000 YEARS AGO
City officials responded to a disturbance today on the outskirts of town at the stable of a popular inn. It seems that a local homeowner’s association became incensed at the non-traditional lighting used by the stable’s occupants. A well placed source in the association was quoted as saying, “It doesn’t matter if they were temporary tenants or not, they should know and obey the conditions. That huge bright star above the barn was garish, not to mention an unapproved light, and the strange glow in the windows was disturbing to the surrounding residents. We have strict lighting regulations in this community and we can’t afford to allow nonconformist attitudes to prevail. It will lower our property values.”
More on this story as it unfolds.
DATELINE; GERMANY, 506 YEARS AGO
A local homeowner’s association today accused a prominent theologian of violations of their covenant by decorating for an unapproved holiday. An anonymous tipster observed Martin Luther dragging a fir tree into his home and setting it up by his front window.
Hans Schmidt, the association manager, said, “There may have been more than one violation in Mr. Luther’s actions. Not only did he decorate his home inappropriately, but he put candles on the tree and displayed it in his window in defiance of the Uniformity of Windows restrictions. Mr. Luther came into the community and wanted to step outside the rules. That’s a detriment to everyone.”
DATELINE: 20TH CENTURY
The government of Communist China has banned all Christmas decorations from public areas and private homes. A government spokesperson announced the ban saying, “If people want to live in community as comrades they need to conform to the rules. Non-conformity is a detriment to everyone.”
DATELINE: 2006 USA
A family faced numerous fines today from their homeowner’s association for displaying Christmas decorations on the windowsills of their front windows. The seasonal display violated the restrictions in the associations rule book regarding consistency in the appearance of the neighborhood’s windows.
A spokesperson from the association declined to comment on the case due to impending litigation, but stated that the uniform appearance of the windows and window dressings in the community was important to enhance the property values and foster feelings of community and safety.
Ah, you can’t beat the warm and fuzzy feeling of conformity. It’s far better than that pursuit of happiness and freedom of expression nonsense.
City officials responded to a disturbance today on the outskirts of town at the stable of a popular inn. It seems that a local homeowner’s association became incensed at the non-traditional lighting used by the stable’s occupants. A well placed source in the association was quoted as saying, “It doesn’t matter if they were temporary tenants or not, they should know and obey the conditions. That huge bright star above the barn was garish, not to mention an unapproved light, and the strange glow in the windows was disturbing to the surrounding residents. We have strict lighting regulations in this community and we can’t afford to allow nonconformist attitudes to prevail. It will lower our property values.”
More on this story as it unfolds.
DATELINE; GERMANY, 506 YEARS AGO
A local homeowner’s association today accused a prominent theologian of violations of their covenant by decorating for an unapproved holiday. An anonymous tipster observed Martin Luther dragging a fir tree into his home and setting it up by his front window.
Hans Schmidt, the association manager, said, “There may have been more than one violation in Mr. Luther’s actions. Not only did he decorate his home inappropriately, but he put candles on the tree and displayed it in his window in defiance of the Uniformity of Windows restrictions. Mr. Luther came into the community and wanted to step outside the rules. That’s a detriment to everyone.”
DATELINE: 20TH CENTURY
The government of Communist China has banned all Christmas decorations from public areas and private homes. A government spokesperson announced the ban saying, “If people want to live in community as comrades they need to conform to the rules. Non-conformity is a detriment to everyone.”
DATELINE: 2006 USA
A family faced numerous fines today from their homeowner’s association for displaying Christmas decorations on the windowsills of their front windows. The seasonal display violated the restrictions in the associations rule book regarding consistency in the appearance of the neighborhood’s windows.
A spokesperson from the association declined to comment on the case due to impending litigation, but stated that the uniform appearance of the windows and window dressings in the community was important to enhance the property values and foster feelings of community and safety.
Ah, you can’t beat the warm and fuzzy feeling of conformity. It’s far better than that pursuit of happiness and freedom of expression nonsense.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The Reason For The Season
Thanksgiving is over, we’re still working on those leftovers, and the holidays have kicked into high gear. Of course, one might say they started before Halloween, and good old Santa slipped into the mall in early November, but now they’re here with a vengeance as shoppers line up at 3:00 AM to get bargains, and holiday commercials bombard us with their versions of the “Reason for the Season”.
I don’t want to sound like a female version of Andy Rooney, but I hate the commercials that try to make us believe that what ever it is they’re promoting is the answer to everyone’s happiness during this special time of year.
One commercial that makes my hackles rise every time I see it is the Illinois State Lottery Holiday Instant Ticket promotion. Mixed among the beautiful traditional seasonal images is the message that the holidays are all about giving and receiving lottery tickets. They actually say, “This is what it’s all about.” Then they tell us to, “Give the gift you hope they return.” Ick!
That annoys me on several levels.
They’re subliminally telling us that the sole reason for Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, take your pick, is about getting gifts by giving gifts. And coincidently, while we’re showing our love of family and friends by hoping they give us stuff, we can immerse ourselves in the spiritual experience of gambling with lottery tickets.
The “Box” store commercials try to convince us that the holidays are all about spending our money with them. Drop a load of cash at their store and our celebrations will be perfect.
There’s a band called “The Yoopers” from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and the manic commercials from all the big “Box” stores reminds me of a song on one of their Christmas CDs. They sing, “We celebrate the Savior’s birth by spending all our dough.” Can everyone say, “Amen”?
Then there are the car commercials. Yeah, everyone I know gets cars for Christmas.
One has a choir singing “Hark How the Bells” using only the word Duh. I guess the point of that is that their vehicle is the obvious Christmas gifting choice.
Another luxury automotive brand suggests that you hurry down to your nearest dealer so that you can have the car decked out with bows in time for the holidays. That, of course, is the key to happiness this season.
Am I the only one that finds that a little pretentious?
I think I’ll try to find other reasons besides lottery tickets, cars, and loads of box store stuff as my answer to happiness his holiday season. I’ll start by pondering the real “Reason of the Season”. How about you?
I don’t want to sound like a female version of Andy Rooney, but I hate the commercials that try to make us believe that what ever it is they’re promoting is the answer to everyone’s happiness during this special time of year.
One commercial that makes my hackles rise every time I see it is the Illinois State Lottery Holiday Instant Ticket promotion. Mixed among the beautiful traditional seasonal images is the message that the holidays are all about giving and receiving lottery tickets. They actually say, “This is what it’s all about.” Then they tell us to, “Give the gift you hope they return.” Ick!
That annoys me on several levels.
They’re subliminally telling us that the sole reason for Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, take your pick, is about getting gifts by giving gifts. And coincidently, while we’re showing our love of family and friends by hoping they give us stuff, we can immerse ourselves in the spiritual experience of gambling with lottery tickets.
The “Box” store commercials try to convince us that the holidays are all about spending our money with them. Drop a load of cash at their store and our celebrations will be perfect.
There’s a band called “The Yoopers” from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and the manic commercials from all the big “Box” stores reminds me of a song on one of their Christmas CDs. They sing, “We celebrate the Savior’s birth by spending all our dough.” Can everyone say, “Amen”?
Then there are the car commercials. Yeah, everyone I know gets cars for Christmas.
One has a choir singing “Hark How the Bells” using only the word Duh. I guess the point of that is that their vehicle is the obvious Christmas gifting choice.
Another luxury automotive brand suggests that you hurry down to your nearest dealer so that you can have the car decked out with bows in time for the holidays. That, of course, is the key to happiness this season.
Am I the only one that finds that a little pretentious?
I think I’ll try to find other reasons besides lottery tickets, cars, and loads of box store stuff as my answer to happiness his holiday season. I’ll start by pondering the real “Reason of the Season”. How about you?
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
'Twas The day After Halloween
TWAS THE DAY AFTER HALLOWEEN
Twas the day after Halloween, when all through the town, not a pilgrim was stirring, none could be found.
The stockings were hung in the stores with care, in hopes that the public, their money would share.
Christmas decorations in greens and reds, caused visions of dancing dollars in corporate heads.
No Thanksgiving figures with cute pilgrim caps, but Carols blared at the shoppers, from Bach to Rap.
Cherry pickers labored at 6o degrees, to place giant snowflakes to swing in the breeze.
To the service window, I went to complain, as they looked at me with clear disdain.
The glow of the wreath upon the wall, made the manager’s nose look like a red ball.
I opened my mouth the scene to protest, “Where’s the pumpkins, turkeys, fall leaves, and the rest?”
“The cornucopias with gourds all aglow, and Native Americans with arrow and bow?”
“The grateful hands, folded in prayer, reminding us to thank Him for all of His care.”
“The cornstalks, and hay bales and tables a-groan, I think this is crazy, am I alone?”
The manager patted me upon my head, then lifted his arms, his fingers all spread.
“All this,” he cried, “gets folks in the mood, to spend their money on more than food.”
“As profits go, Thanksgiving’s a bust, unless it’s combined with commercialized lust.”
“The “Season of Peace” needs a jump start, to persuade the shoppers with their money to part.”
“Our fourth quarter profits depend on this scene, without drawn-out holidays, our year would look lean.”
He then winked his eye, and twisted his head. His maniacal laugh filled me with dread.
The carols grew louder, the Santas all danced, the reindeer and snowmen swirled as they pranced.
The red and green packages bounced in fake snow, the evergreens sparkled, their lights a bright glow.
And laying his finger aside of his cheek, out of the cubicle the manager streaked.
Through the store, he ran, this way and that, and I heard him exclaim as he put on his hat, “Happy Spending to all, so our profit’s not flat!”
Twas the day after Halloween, when all through the town, not a pilgrim was stirring, none could be found.
The stockings were hung in the stores with care, in hopes that the public, their money would share.
Christmas decorations in greens and reds, caused visions of dancing dollars in corporate heads.
No Thanksgiving figures with cute pilgrim caps, but Carols blared at the shoppers, from Bach to Rap.
Cherry pickers labored at 6o degrees, to place giant snowflakes to swing in the breeze.
To the service window, I went to complain, as they looked at me with clear disdain.
The glow of the wreath upon the wall, made the manager’s nose look like a red ball.
I opened my mouth the scene to protest, “Where’s the pumpkins, turkeys, fall leaves, and the rest?”
“The cornucopias with gourds all aglow, and Native Americans with arrow and bow?”
“The grateful hands, folded in prayer, reminding us to thank Him for all of His care.”
“The cornstalks, and hay bales and tables a-groan, I think this is crazy, am I alone?”
The manager patted me upon my head, then lifted his arms, his fingers all spread.
“All this,” he cried, “gets folks in the mood, to spend their money on more than food.”
“As profits go, Thanksgiving’s a bust, unless it’s combined with commercialized lust.”
“The “Season of Peace” needs a jump start, to persuade the shoppers with their money to part.”
“Our fourth quarter profits depend on this scene, without drawn-out holidays, our year would look lean.”
He then winked his eye, and twisted his head. His maniacal laugh filled me with dread.
The carols grew louder, the Santas all danced, the reindeer and snowmen swirled as they pranced.
The red and green packages bounced in fake snow, the evergreens sparkled, their lights a bright glow.
And laying his finger aside of his cheek, out of the cubicle the manager streaked.
Through the store, he ran, this way and that, and I heard him exclaim as he put on his hat, “Happy Spending to all, so our profit’s not flat!”
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Biking and Life
We just returned from “Up North”. The fall scenery, a kaleidoscope of colors, was awe-inspiring. The lakes in their many moods, the glorious sunrises and romantic sunsets, the eye popping shades of foliage from the magnificent trees to brush, wildflowers, and vines, the rock formations, and raging waterfalls; all combined together to imprint their beauty into our memories.
My husband and I enjoy biking, so took our bikes with us to take advantage of the fantastic bike trail system they have between the small towns where we stay.
We can leave our cabin on Big St. Germaine Lake by bike, and ride to the towns of St. Germaine, Sayner, or Boulder Junction. We can go to Crystal Lake for a picnic, Cathedral Point on Trout Lake, or many other stops on lovely lakes along the way.
If we want to load our bikes onto the car and drive, every town in that part of the Northwoods has a bike trail. The intent is to connect all the communities in the area by trail eventually, and they are well on their way.
Refreshingly different from our part of the world, is that “Up North” the municipalities, businesses, and homeowners support the trails and encourage them to pass through their area. There never seems to be brouhaha about trails going through citizen’s yards, or businesses not wanting the trail in front of their establishment.
Areas vie for the chance to have the trail in their towns. They have fundraisers to help with the trail expense, and they get government grants. A winery in Three Lakes sells a wine that if you purchase it, a certain amount of each purchase goes to build the local section of the trail. We road that trail this year and it was well worth it.
No one ever tried to keep the Bearskin Trail in Minocqua as a railroad track.
Alternatively, the businesses use the trails to their advantage, selling the outdoor enthusiasts food, drink, ice cream, and supplies along the way. They rent out equipment, sell gas, and tempt the trail users to visit the shops in their towns. It’s a win, win situation for them, and Central Illinois could learn a lot from their attitude.
The trail between our cabin and Sayner is very hilly. I strain to pedal up the hill, and then fly down the other side, wind hitting my face and whistling through my helmet. Sometimes I get enough momentum that my speed gets me half way up through the next rise.
I repeat the scenario, strain, and difficulty, and then joyous release as the biking gets much easier.
After riding fifteen miles one gorgeous afternoon, I started to think the whole biking experience was analogous to the ups and downs of life. We hit those mountains in life, we huff and puff, straining to get over the hump. Then when the situation peaks, and we fly, life is easy and going great. Suddenly another prominence looms ahead. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, we have enough momentum to carry us up the hill, other times we struggle, but the important thing to remember is, eventually we all make it to the top and experience the joyous descent.
Enjoy this beautiful season, and here’s wishing you more coasting and less tough pedaling in the days to come.
My husband and I enjoy biking, so took our bikes with us to take advantage of the fantastic bike trail system they have between the small towns where we stay.
We can leave our cabin on Big St. Germaine Lake by bike, and ride to the towns of St. Germaine, Sayner, or Boulder Junction. We can go to Crystal Lake for a picnic, Cathedral Point on Trout Lake, or many other stops on lovely lakes along the way.
If we want to load our bikes onto the car and drive, every town in that part of the Northwoods has a bike trail. The intent is to connect all the communities in the area by trail eventually, and they are well on their way.
Refreshingly different from our part of the world, is that “Up North” the municipalities, businesses, and homeowners support the trails and encourage them to pass through their area. There never seems to be brouhaha about trails going through citizen’s yards, or businesses not wanting the trail in front of their establishment.
Areas vie for the chance to have the trail in their towns. They have fundraisers to help with the trail expense, and they get government grants. A winery in Three Lakes sells a wine that if you purchase it, a certain amount of each purchase goes to build the local section of the trail. We road that trail this year and it was well worth it.
No one ever tried to keep the Bearskin Trail in Minocqua as a railroad track.
Alternatively, the businesses use the trails to their advantage, selling the outdoor enthusiasts food, drink, ice cream, and supplies along the way. They rent out equipment, sell gas, and tempt the trail users to visit the shops in their towns. It’s a win, win situation for them, and Central Illinois could learn a lot from their attitude.
The trail between our cabin and Sayner is very hilly. I strain to pedal up the hill, and then fly down the other side, wind hitting my face and whistling through my helmet. Sometimes I get enough momentum that my speed gets me half way up through the next rise.
I repeat the scenario, strain, and difficulty, and then joyous release as the biking gets much easier.
After riding fifteen miles one gorgeous afternoon, I started to think the whole biking experience was analogous to the ups and downs of life. We hit those mountains in life, we huff and puff, straining to get over the hump. Then when the situation peaks, and we fly, life is easy and going great. Suddenly another prominence looms ahead. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, we have enough momentum to carry us up the hill, other times we struggle, but the important thing to remember is, eventually we all make it to the top and experience the joyous descent.
Enjoy this beautiful season, and here’s wishing you more coasting and less tough pedaling in the days to come.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
In Memoriam of Labor Day
Ah, Labor Day, the last hurrah of the summer season. As a child, I remember thinking of it as the last weekend of freedom, so I would throw myself into playing non-stop until Monday night. We usually camped, so I would come home sore and sun burnt, but happy.
Now, my husband is the choir director at our church, and we usually have the “start of the season” choir party at our house over Labor Day weekend. Getting the yard and everything ready, I still get sore and sun burnt, just not by playing.
My husband and I heard a news story on the radio about the Labor Day parade in downtown Peoria. He commented that soon the holiday would be a moot point, unless they celebrate it overseas. It made me wonder about the original reasons for Labor Day.
125 years ago, the Central Labor Union in New York City celebrated a workingman’s holiday. The next year, in 1884, they selected the first Monday in September as the holiday, and urged organizations in other cities to follow their example. By 1895, many industrial centers in our nation celebrated the Labor Day holiday.
In June of 1894, Congress passed an act making the first Monday in September a legal holiday dedicated as a “tribute to the American Worker”. The first proposal of the holiday suggested that celebration include street parades to exhibit to the public “the strength and spirit de corps of the trade and labor organizations”, followed by a festival for the recreation and amusement of the workers and their families.
“Ay”, as Hamlet said, “There lies the rub”.
It seems somewhat ironic to celebrate the American Worker, when they seem to be an endangered species as “outsourcing” becomes the word of the day for most corporations.
In full disclosure I must admit, I’m not neutral on this subject, my husband’s job was outsourced to India. Unfortunately, that’s no longer unusual.
A friend, who works as a temp at a major corporation, told us that her employer was bought out by a Chinese company. The help desks in many companies are no longer the next floor up, but are on the other side of the world. Order from a catalogue and most likely the person on the other end of the phone is not in this country. Same with tech support, and the person who tells you his name is Brad, but you suspect it’s a little more exotic than that.
Companies, lured by the siren call of more profits, abandon their American workers to build factories in every foreign country that promises an abundance of workers willing to work for slave wages. Ironically enough, the “Big Box” stores sell these cheap and sometimes dangerously defective foreign products back to the American Worker at low prices, thus completing the vicious circle.
The unions that started Labor Day have lost a lot of their clout as companies threaten to move to another country whenever negotiations don’t go their way, leaving their employees to get new jobs that are more secure. Sadly, these jobs include phrases like, “Do you want fries with that?”, and “Welcome to (insert the Big Box store of your choosing)”.
And so it goes. My fear is that someday the true reason for Labor Day will someday go the way of the Dodo bird, along with the American Worker.
Now, my husband is the choir director at our church, and we usually have the “start of the season” choir party at our house over Labor Day weekend. Getting the yard and everything ready, I still get sore and sun burnt, just not by playing.
My husband and I heard a news story on the radio about the Labor Day parade in downtown Peoria. He commented that soon the holiday would be a moot point, unless they celebrate it overseas. It made me wonder about the original reasons for Labor Day.
125 years ago, the Central Labor Union in New York City celebrated a workingman’s holiday. The next year, in 1884, they selected the first Monday in September as the holiday, and urged organizations in other cities to follow their example. By 1895, many industrial centers in our nation celebrated the Labor Day holiday.
In June of 1894, Congress passed an act making the first Monday in September a legal holiday dedicated as a “tribute to the American Worker”. The first proposal of the holiday suggested that celebration include street parades to exhibit to the public “the strength and spirit de corps of the trade and labor organizations”, followed by a festival for the recreation and amusement of the workers and their families.
“Ay”, as Hamlet said, “There lies the rub”.
It seems somewhat ironic to celebrate the American Worker, when they seem to be an endangered species as “outsourcing” becomes the word of the day for most corporations.
In full disclosure I must admit, I’m not neutral on this subject, my husband’s job was outsourced to India. Unfortunately, that’s no longer unusual.
A friend, who works as a temp at a major corporation, told us that her employer was bought out by a Chinese company. The help desks in many companies are no longer the next floor up, but are on the other side of the world. Order from a catalogue and most likely the person on the other end of the phone is not in this country. Same with tech support, and the person who tells you his name is Brad, but you suspect it’s a little more exotic than that.
Companies, lured by the siren call of more profits, abandon their American workers to build factories in every foreign country that promises an abundance of workers willing to work for slave wages. Ironically enough, the “Big Box” stores sell these cheap and sometimes dangerously defective foreign products back to the American Worker at low prices, thus completing the vicious circle.
The unions that started Labor Day have lost a lot of their clout as companies threaten to move to another country whenever negotiations don’t go their way, leaving their employees to get new jobs that are more secure. Sadly, these jobs include phrases like, “Do you want fries with that?”, and “Welcome to (insert the Big Box store of your choosing)”.
And so it goes. My fear is that someday the true reason for Labor Day will someday go the way of the Dodo bird, along with the American Worker.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Natural Sanity
If life is pressing in on you, and you feel the need for a mini-vacation, then a walk or ride down the Rock Island Trail is the ticket. Either direction, from Alta, towards Dunlap, or towards Peoria, where the trail abruptly stops at Pioneer Parkway in North Peoria where the new section will soon continue, is wild and beautiful.
Sunlight filters around gently fluttering leaves to make dappled kinetic art on the pathway. Wildflowers abound, serving as magnets to myriads of butterflies. These floating flowers of every imaginable color glide quietly by, infusing a sense of peace.
Birds are everywhere, filling the air with exuberant song. Indigo Buntings flash by, their tiny iridescent blue bodies reflecting the mottled sunlight like sparks of flame in the shrubbery. The ubiquitous Robins conduct their daily lives with their usual good cheer as they regularly cross your path. Woodpeckers, cardinals, ducks, swallows, wrens, and catbirds, are just a few of the birds commonly seen along the trail. During migration times, the greenway explodes with warblers and other migrants of every ilk, stopping by for a respite on their long journeys.
The scenery is diverse along the trail, encompassing everything from forests and ravines, to farm fields and meadows of wildflowers. There are streams, and babbling brooks with schools of tiny fish darting among the rocks. There are bridges to cross, and even a cool and dark tunnel to explore.
Development, however, marches on, and encroaches on the wildness of the trail. Subdivisions are popping up like mushrooms along the corridor, greedily pushing against the greenway both sides, squishing it into a tiny ribbon of nature.
Fortunately, they can’t erase it, and so the trail remains a slash of sanity through the artificial living space that is suburbia.
I know insidious sprawl will continue unchecked. My husband and I moved to the country to enjoy nature, and the peace and quiet of rural living. Picturesque farm fields, wildlife, and old barns were the backdrops to the gorgeous sunsets we could view from our front windows. Now, a subdivision, earth berms, and a maintenance shed for a golf course block the sunsets. The wildlife we enjoyed when we first moved here has mostly disappeared. The glow from a plethora of yard and house lights, vapor lights, security lights, and landscaping lights has wiped out any enjoyment of the night sky.
Since the old cliché, “You can’t stop progress” is unfortunately true; I guess the best you can hope for is to continue to find nature as God intended it, enjoy it, and protect it as best you can, as long as possible. It’s the best therapy in the world.
Sunlight filters around gently fluttering leaves to make dappled kinetic art on the pathway. Wildflowers abound, serving as magnets to myriads of butterflies. These floating flowers of every imaginable color glide quietly by, infusing a sense of peace.
Birds are everywhere, filling the air with exuberant song. Indigo Buntings flash by, their tiny iridescent blue bodies reflecting the mottled sunlight like sparks of flame in the shrubbery. The ubiquitous Robins conduct their daily lives with their usual good cheer as they regularly cross your path. Woodpeckers, cardinals, ducks, swallows, wrens, and catbirds, are just a few of the birds commonly seen along the trail. During migration times, the greenway explodes with warblers and other migrants of every ilk, stopping by for a respite on their long journeys.
The scenery is diverse along the trail, encompassing everything from forests and ravines, to farm fields and meadows of wildflowers. There are streams, and babbling brooks with schools of tiny fish darting among the rocks. There are bridges to cross, and even a cool and dark tunnel to explore.
Development, however, marches on, and encroaches on the wildness of the trail. Subdivisions are popping up like mushrooms along the corridor, greedily pushing against the greenway both sides, squishing it into a tiny ribbon of nature.
Fortunately, they can’t erase it, and so the trail remains a slash of sanity through the artificial living space that is suburbia.
I know insidious sprawl will continue unchecked. My husband and I moved to the country to enjoy nature, and the peace and quiet of rural living. Picturesque farm fields, wildlife, and old barns were the backdrops to the gorgeous sunsets we could view from our front windows. Now, a subdivision, earth berms, and a maintenance shed for a golf course block the sunsets. The wildlife we enjoyed when we first moved here has mostly disappeared. The glow from a plethora of yard and house lights, vapor lights, security lights, and landscaping lights has wiped out any enjoyment of the night sky.
Since the old cliché, “You can’t stop progress” is unfortunately true; I guess the best you can hope for is to continue to find nature as God intended it, enjoy it, and protect it as best you can, as long as possible. It’s the best therapy in the world.
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