Every day, two or three times a day, I walk my dog. My walk ends at a 46-acre clear cut area. The trees are gone, murdered actually, but the roots of these annoying creatures still seem to call out to me, all the memories, all the wonderful times, all the joy, all the pain, all their lives cut short and all their roots and souls lay just under the soil, slowly fading away.
When me and my dog turn around to go home we’re surrounded by fields, empty fields, this time of the year the only thing alive, apart from the land itself are scores of Canada geese floating in temporarily land-locked lakes that will soon disappear. As I get closer to my small acreage, I see the trees slowly swaying with the breeze, the sound of the wind as it caresses the trees oh, so gently; it’s almost musical at times, almost rhythmic like the sound of my dog snoring on the couch after a big day. Then comes the choir of the forest, mourning doves slowly crooning, woodpeckers tapping out the beat, all the rest a symphony of sound and sight, and the smell of the cedar on a warm night.
The sad part of being human is we have to lose something completely before we really choose to protect it.
Earth Day will have already passed by the time you read this. Celebrating this planet for only one day seems to shortchange this magnificent creation. As far as climate change is concerned, we’re all in the same boat, and it’s sinking. Governments around the world know how dire it really is but they can’t say anything–not wanting to cause panic.
Enjoy a forest large or small for a moment in time, before it all becomes a memory of lost souls.
Thank you,
Andy Perreault
