Cold Fire

Sue raked up a bunch of back yard detritus, and this evening, wearing full winter garb, we, sitting on the back patio, incinerated it. At least the fire was warm.

Here is a copy of my remarks at Friday’s Earth Day celebration.

A Sacred Place?

I suppose it might seem crazy for me to suggest that The Arboretum At Starin Park is a sacred place. After all, it’s is just a city park.

But I’ll call it sacred anyway.

For one thing, it’s an ancient place; the park’s big hill was created by a departing glacier 10 to 15 thousand years ago. A glacial kame, quite possibly.

It’s almost certainly a place visited by the first people—perhaps the Hopewell, certainly the Mound Builders, and likely the Potawatomi and Ho-Chunk. I try to imagine what it was like back then.

As UFC member Nick Alt has suggested, the stand of Norway spruce up to the west of the water tower was likely planted by European settlers to remind them of home.

And, even after the ravages of the emerald ash borer, the park is still home to over 700 trees, some of them well over a century old.

Trees have been held sacred in many cultures. There’s Yggdrasil, the sacred tree that supports the universe. There are warden trees, which defend against bad luck and evil spirits. There are the famous sacred oak groves of the Druids. There are the Ents of Middle Earth.

Just saying out loud the names of trees is a kind of poem—
oak, willow, ash, hawthorn, holly, hazel. 

Or this line from Edna St. Vincent Millay’s Counting Out Rhyme:
   Stripe of green in moosewood maple,
Colour seen in leaf of apple,
   Bark of popple.

Trees are an essential element of our outer and inner lives. A first step as stewards of the earth is to learn about and then teach the sanctity and importance of trees—by respecting, planting, and maintaining them—appreciating all that trees do for us, in their silent, woody ways.

Clearly, trees have had great importance to the first people of Wisconsin, even to the extent that trees are thought of as Tree People.

But as poet and nature writer Gary Snyder says,

“we are all indigenous to this planet, this mosaic of wild gardens we are being called by nature and history to reinhabit in good spirit. Part of that responsibility is to choose a place. To restore the land one must live and work in a place. To work in a place is to work with others. People who work together in a place become a community, and a community, in time, grows a culture. To work on behalf of the wild is to restore culture.”

Gary Snyder, 
The Rediscovery of Turtle Island
A Place In Space, Counterpoint (1995)


Forty Isn’t High…

…at least for the 26th of April. But that’s what the thermometer said.
Lunch with fellow old-time jaded Democrat, Steve, for some political discussion, and then a hike along the Lake Geneva shore.

On the hike we came across lots of slunk cabbage or Symplocarpus foetidus. Notice the specific, which means fetid, which means extremely foul smelling, which is pretty much the state of right wing politics.

Sold Out

Incredible demand. We started with 156 trees, and, in spite of Friday’s deluge, ended up this afternoon with only six left. Furthermore, we could have sold very many more if we had had more oaks, more sugar maples, more redbud, more serviceberry. Now the quandary is what to do next weekend when we have noting left to sell.

It was a fun time, chatting with a great many people who love trees, most of whom know way more than I do.

Also of potential interest, we sold out of bluebird boxes, and then had several disappointed customers. Who would have anticipated that?

Tree Sale…

…in a deluge. Heavy, cold rain all day long.

But we sold many trees, and more than half of the bluebird boxes. The Arboretum Earth Day program, though chilled and splattered, went pretty well. Thanks to Sue for preparing a beautiful spread of tree treat refreshments.

What The Hay?

A peek out the window this morning at 6 am, strongly suggested that I head back to bed.

Unfortunately, things were no better at 7:

“Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened Earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”

—Shelley

Shoveling…

…compost.

Bin three has already been moved out to the resource pile, so bin two was heaved over to bin three, and bin one to bin two. Bin one is now open for this year’s kitchen scraps, yard waste and garden residue. An amazon quantity of stuff goes into bin one, but just a small volume comes out of bin three. (Nice stuff, though.)

In other news, Sylvia (person in charge of tree cookie crafts on Arbor Day) thought it might be good to have some bigger bases, in case anyone wants to make an elaborate project. Dave came over and helped slice up an old ash log into twelve jumbos.

Still distressingly cold.

Tree Cookies

These are from a linden limb.

These, along with many others, will be used for a kids craft project at the Arboretum Arbor Day festivities (actually on April 30).

We can hope that that day will not be as windy as this day. Today’s wind is blowing the paint off the road signs.

Almost

Daffodils almost here.

Warm most of the day, with the threat of storms. No actual storms, however, except for some rain when I rode my bike to get a haircut.

So, let’s talk of vernal pools, of which there are quite a few, including the ones on Serendipity Lane. Vernal means spring, and that’s when they exist. And, although they don’t stay wet the whole year, they do fill a very important role in the natural world.

Check out this brief video of vernal pools in Michigan: Ephemeral BTW, did I mention that the spring peepers are now out in force in the vernal pools around Whitewater?