The Nature of Things

I find it true, as the poet says, that gardens are places where the "human desire for peace with every other species wells up in you." If only it were true that "for every hurt there is a leaf to cure it."  In Perpetual Spring by Amy Gerstler Gardens are also good places to sulk. You pass beds of spiky voodoo lilies    and trip over the roots    of a sweet gum tree,    in search of medieval    plants whose leaves,    when they drop off    turn into birds if they fall on land, and colored carp if they    plop into water. Suddenly the archetypal    human desire for peace    with every other species    wells up in you.  The lion    and the lamb cuddling up.  The snake and the snail, kissing. Even the prick of the thistle,    queen of the weeds, revives    your secret belief in perpet...

A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment :  The American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week is a lovely member of the jay family, the Island Scrub-Jay . It is only found on Santa Cruz Island, the largest of California's Channel Islands. It inhabits the oak and pine forests and scrublands throughout the island and its numbers are decreasing.  *~*~*~* When a 5.2 magnitude earthquake shook the area on Monday, the elephants at the San Diego Zoo quickly formed a protective circle around their young. Those protective instincts remain strong in the animals. *~*~*~* Unfortunately, such protective instincts do not seem to be present in the current administration in Washington which proposes to get rid of hundreds of environmental regulations meant to ensure our health and safety. *~*~*~* In other news of this administration, they are planning cuts to the federal climate disaster agency which could have a devastating effect on our endangered rivers , even the ...

It isn't really a poem although it often gets characterized as one. It was written by a German Lutheran pastor in 1946 after the Holocaust and World War II. It is his confession of failure. Let us not fail to speak out against evil in our time. First They Came by Pastor Martin  Niemöller First they came for the Communists And I did not speak out  Because I was not a Communist  Then they came for the Socialists  And I did not speak out  Because I was not a Socialist  Then they came for the trade unionists  And I did not speak out  Because I was not a trade unionist  Then they came for the Jews  And I did not speak out  Because I was not a Jew  Then they came for me  And there was no one left  To speak out for me.

  A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : The American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week is the Red-faced Parrot , a bird of the eastern slopes of the Andes and southern Ecuador and northwestern Peru. Its numbers are decreasing as its habitat is threatened by logging and clearing for agriculture, infrastructure development, and mining. *~*~*~* The new administration in Washington has cut $4 million from climate research funding that had been allocated to Princeton University because it supposedly exposed students to "climate anxiety" and "exaggerated climate threats." It has also ended funding for the U.S. Global Change Research Program which was charged with producing quadrennial reports on the impact on this country of rising global temperatures. *~*~*~* We should not be surprised that this administration also apparently has plans to weaken enforcement of the Endangered Species Act . Its actions have brought out hundreds of thousan...

This poem caught my eye last week for its line "Not only under ground are the brains of men eaten by maggots." Somehow it seemed particularly apropos for the events of the week. Edna St. Vincent Millay certainly had April's number - a month that "Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers." After all, what does April care about the silly affairs of humans? Spring by Edna St. Vincent Millay To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

  A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : This is a rather plain bird with a beautiful song. It is the Veery , a member of the thrush family. It passes through Texas on migration and moves on to breed primarily along the border between Canada and the United States, although it can be found breeding all the way south to Georgia. Like many species, it is threatened by forest loss and fragmentation. *~*~*~* Something bad is happening along the southern California coast as hundreds of sick or dead sea mammals wash up on its shores. There has also been erratic behavior, including attacks on humans. Sea mammal specialists suspect toxic algae poisoning of being the cause. *~*~*~* And in the human world, toxicity of another kind has led the nation's top vaccine scientist to resign his position just as we are facing a potential measles epidemic that would have been totally preventable by vaccine. *~*~*~* And, confirming the adage that it never rains but it pours,...

My father was a farmer. This poem makes me think of him. How often I  have seen him pacing his fields - "the artist figure of the farmer" - in early spring as, in his mind, he is composing and he sees the fields already planted... Spring and All: III [The farmer in deep thought] BY William Carlos Williams The farmer in deep thought is pacing through the rain among his blank fields, with hands in pockets, in his head the harvest already planted. A cold wind ruffles the water among the browned weeds. On all sides the world rolls coldly away : black orchards darkened by the March clouds — leaving room for thought. Down past the brushwood bristling by the rainsluiced wagonroad looms the artist figure of the farmer — composing — antagonist.