On Wednesday afternoon, I grabbed my camera and notebook and headed out in the woods hoping to find the positive message I needed. As always, nature did not let me down.
Giant wheels had mashed the mound of soil where my favorite little clump of violets bloomed each May.
The corner where only dappled sunlight used to reach the forest floor blazed bright. The decaying log covered with the "turkey mushrooms" my kids and I love so much, gone.
I continued to the hill where the wood frogs winter over and found this:
Squishy machinery tracks beneath my feet made me wonder what happened to the wood frogs. Would vibrations have driven them out or were they too deep in their winter slumber to move? Were they crushed while they slept?
I couldn't take it. I turned and walked home.
I returned with my children a few weeks later. The weather has been ridiculously warm this winter. The wonky weather caused snowdrops, crocuses, and daffodils to bloom weeks early. Maybe some wood frogs would be out.
I don't know why, but I didn't tell my kids about the logging. I wish I had. I SHOULD have.
As we rounded the bend and saw the results of the logging, my son stopped his bike and just stared. My daughter stopped walking. Her shoulders stooped. Her face crumpled and she cried, "I don't want them to cut down the trees." She completely fell apart sobbing. My son said, "I'm mad!"
I didn't know how to comfort them. For children, what is the upside of a treasured natural landscape being demolished for human consumption? I did my best. I expressed my own sadness and hugged them tight.
But my daughter never recovered that day. Her shoulders remained slumped. She was whiny. She cried at the simplest thing. My son was quieter than usual.
I've been looking for the positive. As I sat there beside our beloved frog pond yesterday, nature brought me the answer. (I sat in a different spot than usual- a place where the devastation was not in my view). It wasn't the answer I was hoping for- no frogs are out- but in just 15 minutes time, three little animals visited me: a common house fly, a daddy long legs, and another little fly (I don't know what kind).
What were they telling me? Life continues. Our forest will continue to grow. Sun-loving pioneer trees- white pines- will sprout in the sunny cleared patches. Over time, those pines will grow so tall that they'll choke out the sunlight. Then shade-loving hardwoods- maples, oaks, and beeches- will grow in their shadow and eventually become kings of the forest.
Maybe some day, 100 years from now, my descendants will walk through the forest to our frog pond to watch the descendants of the wood frogs I love so much come out of their winter slumber to mate.
This, I hope. And it will be true if we take the time to bring our children to natural places. My kids love that landscape, and with that love comes a desire to protect it. They are our future. Your children are our future. What can you do to reconnect them to the earth that provides their food, their shelter, and the air they breathe?
Please, get your kids outside. Let them play. Let them explore. Let them love nature.
Reading the Land