I’ll admit it: I talk to daffodils. And trees. And grape hyacinths. And lizards and birds and critters. I can’t explain it–except to say that I’m not crazy. The talks are short, intermittent encouragements or  words of thanks. And the things I talk to don’t talk back.  That’s a spare reassurance. I know. But all those things are part of being close to that “something bigger” that Nature represents to me.

Did Thoreau talk to the fish in the pond at Walden? Did Einstein talk to the unseen forces of the universe? I hope so. I’d like to think that I’m in exalted company.

I do know this. The folks I don’t see basking in the amazingness of what’s around, outside, everywhere…they could fill an airplane hangar. Or many, many houses. The folks who feel that Things Natural are there to serve them–fish to be caught, trees to be harvested, condos to be built, creatures to be shot for sport, habitat to be bulldozed to make a property more sale-able–seem to far outnumber those of us who tread on more sacred ground. Often, I fear that greed will win, always. A shame…when what’s there is so much that’s bigger, so much wonderfully bigger, than we are. 

We have green. In those beautiful, amazing, tiny little buds that are popping all around us on the river. In the Bradford Pear branches, broken in the ice storm, rescued and stuck into jugs of water; “lost” branches that miraculously sprouted flowers. Green. A world is a terrible thing to waste.

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