Human destruction

This afternoon I came home from running errands, and as I pulled onto my lane I heard the sound of tractors and heavy equipment. Parking my car, I got out and looked into the woods and beyond. A Pennsylvania Power & Light electricity line sits at the edge of my forest, and the noise was coming from that direction.

As I approached I could see they were cutting down every tree, bush, and plant that had grown under the lines. They do this every ten years, they went on to say. I looked around and noted that some bushes and small lovely dogwood trees were at least twenty-five feet from the lines above, maybe more. They did not care. It all has to be cut every ten years the men said, again, as if memorized.

I was saddened by this approach, and decided to write a note to the company. Now, I’m not naive enough to believe that this will stop the cutting and destroying of God’s handiwork. But at least I will feel as though I’ve tried to protect the eco-system in my area. I know that because of what they do, everything around me will change.

Rain will not filter as well through the dense underbrush as it had, but that is only part of the destruction. They are destroying the berries that grow profusely on the barberry bushes for the birds, and it is these red gems that manage to keep them alive during the winter months. Also, the does left their fawns to sleep in that beautiful thick underbrush knowing it would keep them safe and hidden from predators. My red fox and her family, and the bunnies that eat the tender spring shoots, will now suffer as well.

Nothing was left but dead branches and exposed roots, as the workers left for the day, happy in their work. Nests, food, and comfort were taken from many of God’s finest creations this afternoon. But no one seemed to care! At least not enough to stop the devastation and it made me sad. I could get angry, but it won’t help. Neither will my sadness. Instead I will give attention to what these men have left behind. I will make large piles out of the cut brush for hiding newborn babies, while trying hard not to stand in judgment, and I will fill my feeders each morning for the birds.

My woods will stay as pristine as possible, and the animals and birds will find comfort here on my land. Although I have only a few acres, it will continue to be a sanctuary for them. The apples and peaches on my trees in the field will be left for them to eat this year, as I can purchase mine at the orchard close by. It is one more thing I can do.

They give me their songs and beauty as I watch them fly to my feeders, or eat from my feeding stations. Deer, fox, birds, and bunnies all gather on my land for refuge. Yes, I will do my part for them. One human who cares enough!

Unexpected serenity

I found inspiration yesterday in an unexpected place. Within a massive-sized hospital on Long Island, New York, a young girl showed me serenity. She was candid, and totally within the moment as she spoke.

Her illness presents hardships I can’t imagine, but her enthusiasm for life continues. She spoke of a love for horses, and how she will compete again by the beginning of the next year. Having no preconceptions about her Lupus disease or finding a kidney donor, she was elegant in revealing her passion for a full recovery.

Her face was pale, yet serene. Her eyes gave way to discomfort, but she remained concerned that I had a comfortable place to sit. Her arm, swollen and painful from recent skin graft surgery, rested quietly by her side as we spoke of our love for all animals.

Alex's honesty lights my fire, and brings hope to my choice of finding a way to raise awareness for this disease.

In the midst of a hospital’s chaos I felt my granddaughter’s quietude, and found she has a profound capacity for love, insight, and healing.