Love Tolkien's Ents. How couldn't I?
As a naturalist for the Beargrass Creek Nature Preserve in Louisville, Kentucky, it was my job to take kids hiking in the woods across from the zoo and to follow the curiosity of children and have answers to their wonderful questions. It helped to have knowledge of what they were called, how they differ, and how they provide for not only our oxygen supply, but for holding the earth intact and harvesting spaces for creatures to live. They are an ecosystem of their own.
In my backyard, there are two oaks I look at, especially at night as the moonlight shines through them (in this pre-leaf season...yes, I'm aware that their pollen will soon cause me headaches and runny noses). The two kiddy-corner to my house branch into the sky like a pair of lungs (at least in the winter months). I'm conscious of this as I inhale and exhale my interest in staying alive when I look at them. I nod my head towards them in a sign of appreciation.
Ann Burg has been working on a book of poetry from the perspective of trees and while showing her Fairfield University we came across a Birch outside of Bellarmine, a tree that always catches my attention as we walk students towards commencement at graduation. It made me think of Dr. Kraig Steffan, in Chemistry, who spent time with his students locating, naming, and placing every tree on our campus as a part of who we are as an intellectual ecosystem. We are the trees, too. They are us. Without them, there wouldn't be us.
Raking leaves is something. Dealing with Beatles, hives, poison ivy that climb up their bark, and knowing that roots push water to and from my house is part of the equations, as well. They hold the earth in place, provide heat when sectioned into piles for our fires, and offer shade in the hottest months. There's nothing like walking streets in Stratford where Sycamores provide the greatest shade. Their shedding bark might be a pain in the butt for homeowners, but they also are an aesthetic majesty for the homes that live where they are lined perfectly.
I was talking to Chitunga about the world where it is right now, and remembered the epiphany I made when I discovered ecology and economics both being 'eco' which means home. In order to sustain our homes (as humans) we need to be conscious of both. With a sustained earth, economical stability is unlikely to occur. Economy requires us to be ecologists, too.
Nature always tells its own stories and, thanks to my grandparents having space on Loch Lebanon, I've always been aware that trees are a part of how we live. They deserve respect and, hence, why I like Anne's new poetic project. National Parks, conservation, ecological sustainability...and fresh air. We need our trees, and a stewardship to maintain and support them. They will, after all, outlive us and provide sustenance for many generations ahead.
Of course, as a far-distance town on the outskirts, furthest outskirts, of NYC I wonder about trees, industrialization, and state-wide planting. Stuck in traffic for hours today (there are good days and bad ones), I kept thinking about the Birch outside the administrative offices of our campus.
Such a beautiful empress, the Birch is. Witness of holiness and beauty.
It's Saturday, it will be 70, and I'm simply hoping to take a walk amongst the trees. Humans? Well, they're okay, too...but they have their axes and I'm not so sure their intentions are for the well-being of all. So, this morning as I write, I'm a Lorax, too.
