Earth Day, 2024, and a poem...

It's Earth Day, 2024, and I have been wracking my brain what to say. Something along the lines of, "if you mess it up, pick it up" comes to mind. I was hopeful of getting outdoors today to walk around in my back yard and pick up winter-blown stuff, but it's supposed to be a bit blustery, and the process would only have to be repeated again later. That's not to say I won't clean that mess up, but maybe at the end of the week, when it's supposed to be a little warmer and a bit more spring-ish. Earth Day should be every day, anyhow.

In the meantime, here's a poem by Matthew Olzmann to ponder, titled "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years From Now."

Fair warning, it's not cheery, but then, neither is the general state of the planet. The second stanza says,

It must seem like we sought to leave you nothing
but benzene, mercury, the stomachs
of seagulls rippled with jet fuel and plastic. 

I sure hope that it isn't the case. I'm trying to do my part, and I bet you are, too. I'm probably hollering into a well. And it doesn't have to be so dire, but the work ahead is hard, and will require people to make sacrifices. We've got to learn how to live with our natural world, not treat it like a resource to be plundered or hoarded. I'm heartened by the work that is being done to try to restore the coral reefs, for example, but the whole fact that they are dying at an alarming rate is so sad. And replanting forests, no-dig gardening, and sustainable food practices are all good things, too. But then I see some doofus chucking something out of their car window as they speed by, and I get so defeated. We must find ways to reach those who just don't want to play nice. When I was a kiddo, we had a real urgency to save the planet-- we got little trash bags to give to our parents to hang in the car, we had Captain Planet cartoons, but then, it was the 70s, and it seems like people gave a damn more. 

At any rate, I hope you have a lovely day. Keep warm. That nasty "four letter word" is back in the forecast, at least for mountain regions. Ugh. I'm ready for true spring.

Take care,

C