What We Need Is Here

We need to destroy nature to enjoy it

I was at my parents’ house this past weekend, tucked away in the northwest corner of Georgia—a picturesque area of mountains, forests, lakes and streams. My parents live near the end of a dead end road, on the side of a mountain replete with pines and hardwoods, wild blackberry bushes and flowers of many colors. Their home is situated east to west, so from their back deck and thru the trees you get an extraordinary view of the sunset each evening, gently setting over lush green mountains in the distance.

But apparently, the view is not quite all that it could be. My folks explained to me how all of their neighbors are either cutting down their trees or lopping off the tops in order to get a better view of the sunset. (To my folks’ credit, they’ve refused to go along with this, despite pressure from the immediate neighbors who share the vista with them.)

The absurdity of this is striking (although apparently not to my parents’ neighbors). First, all of these people are transplants to this area of Georgia; no one is a native. They also have homes in Florida, or Atlanta, and elsewhere. Most, if not all, seem to come from intensely developed areas—the west coast of Florida for instance, fromTampa down to Naples. I imagine that one of the first impressions that drew them to want to live in the north Georgia mountains was the abundance of trees. I can picture them, couples recently retired, kids grown and out of the house, taking that first trip, looking around and exclaiming to each other how magnificent to see so many trees, how beautiful they are, how wonderful it would be to live in the woods, surrounded by nature.

After a few visits to the area, they decide to live here part-time, picking out a house on a mountainside, thick with beautiful trees. And sitting on their back decks, they watch the sun go down, filtered through those trees, an enchanting mixture of shadows and fading rays of light. For awhile, they really find it to be a delight.

But (cue the irony)… They start thinking about just how much more beautiful it would be if they thinned out some of those trees. They could get a better photo for the Christmas card next year, an unobstructed Georgia mountain sunset. And so the tractor and back-hoe come out, men with chainsaws and axes show up, and voila! Seemingly unaware of what denuding mountainsides has meant for Californians (think mudslides), the underbrush is gone, the trees have become firewood and the wine glasses clink sweetly, as they take in the bright pinks and faded oranges, light blues and dusky golds of that perfect mountain sunset.

As the tractor did its damage one morning on the property next to my parents’ home, this phrase—popularized as a slogan for all that was wrong with the war in Viet Nam—came to mind: “We have to destroy the village to save it.” Except here, a homeowner is saying to his guest, as they sit on his back deck watching that sunset, unburdened by trees: “We needed to destroy nature to enjoy it.”

Not exactly those words, of course.

- John

February, you are lovely

San Felasco Hammock - February morning
I almost hate to see to see this month go. February is always full of surprises - warm days followed by frigid nights followed by a rainy day or a sunny one and then a night with thunder cracking... But most of all it is just beautiful. Spring begins early here and in the midst of the mixed-up weather, sandhill cranes are gathering overhead and the robins are coming through. Robins are commonplace in so many places, but they are only annual visitors here, and they seem to bring spring with them.

Robins! Even in a paved city lot.

The real evidence of impending spring is in the woods. I haven't hiked in the San Felasco Hammock since we moved into the center of town; ten miles seems like an extravagant distance to travel for a six-mile hike. But I was desperate enough for solitude last weekend that I made the trip. And then I returned today with my camera.

Tiny new river birch leaves

First dogwood blooms

It was a food for the soul for sure. Add to it birds twittering, the wind rustling the leaves, the crash of deer through the woods - and more robins - and it was a feast fit for Mardi Gras.

Common Good

The "Wild Spaces - Public Places" initiative, which will be on the ballot in November, is one of those things that seem clearly the right thing to do.  But there is always that block of voters who believe any tax is a bad tax (the Gainesville Sun had a depressing number of folks who wrote in lately against taxes for public education, for Pete's sake), so it may face some opposition in November - especially this November.

But it's exactly at times like this that it's most important to be forward-thinking in where our money goes. In hard times, folks need public spaces more than ever - free places for their children to play, place where elders can find community and resources for this part of their life, and land that will be preserved for all of us now and for future generations. This is real frugality - getting the best bang for our buck by putting it in places that will benefit us all, especially the most vulnerable. (Oh, how tempting it is to point out the huge amount we have been recently taxed to bail out big business, and the big question looming regarding whom these dollars will actually benefit).

As stocks plunge, and irresponsibility skyrockets in the national picture, It's up to us to take care of what's important in our own place. Who can argue that our elders, our children and our land aren't excellent investments?

Breakfast Al Fresco

Grace and I decided to have breakfast "in the fresh air" one morning this week.  We got up at the crack of dawn to beat the heat. After preparing a fruit salad of market blueberries, watermelon and honeydew, we rode our bikes the short distance to Westside Park.

It was so pretty and peaceful this early in the morning. Besides having fun with Grace - the only other one in the family who appreciates the many benefits of rising early even when you don't have to - I wanted to experiment with picknicking.  We won't really have a "personal" outdoor space once we move into the new house, and I know I'm going to miss our backyard and screened porch.

It wasn't hard doing the things we like to do there. After breakfast, we played a few rounds of the card game "Nine Hole Golf," and went for a little hike around the park looking for birds.  Unfortunately, there weren't many to be seen this morning - just a handful of crows and a few mockingbirds.  I have seen bluebirds at Westside before, which are rare in the suburbs, and I was hoping to show Gracie one.  We'll keep looking.  There are lots of parks and semi-wild places to explore in Gainesville.  And most have picnic tables.

Our Beautiful Backyard - Communally Speaking

I went on another long walk.  I want to take advantage of this weather - and the freedom to walk in the middle of the day - as many times as I can before it gets hot and buggy.  Within less than a mile of my house is a large park where I have brought my children to play since they were little. It’s wooded, but also has a very nice playground, and areas for skate boarding, baseball, and tennis. There's a path around it all for jogging/walking.  It’s an oasis in the middle of a busy area of town.

A short distance from the park is “Loblolly Woods.”  It’s a wetland area, regularly flooded in places during the rainy season, so never “developed.” Paths were carved into the woods by mountain bikers, and many children (mine included) used the area for “adventures.” Several years ago, a group in the city proposed a paved trail - the “Hogtown Greenway” which would allow more people to enjoy it and prevent further damaging erosion; it would have connected to other greenways throughout the city and provided a beautiful, safe alternative for bike commuting as well.  Another group, homeowners whose property backed up to the area, organized quickly and shot the plan down.  Unfortunately, much of their argument was built on misinformation. While they called themselves an environmental group and claimed that the plan for a greenway was akin to “paving paradise,” their real worry was that more people would be enjoying the woods that they thought of as their own.  It was a shame.  Fortunately, an alternate plan of dirt trails and boardwalks was put into place. Although it’s not accessible to wheelchairs or older people without sure-footing, and it isn't well-connected as a greenway system, it is much more accessible to hikers.  I’m glad for the persistence of the folks in town who want to truly preserve and protect natural spaces like these – and make them available to the community. Being able to safely enjoy wild spaces like these can only make folks appreciate and want to protect more of them while we have them. Once they’re gone, they’re gone.

It was about a six-mile walk - around the park twice, then through both the north and south sides of the woods (divided by 8th Avenue - a major road).  I enjoyed it so much I wondered why I don’t do it more often.  I think looking through a camera lens provides the minimal distance and perspective needed to see things with a “new eye.”  I was reminded of Joe's friend, Mathilde, a French college student who visited us during Christmas and exclaimed, "You live in a forest!"  It’s true.  But it doesn’t stay that way on its own. Again, we owe a lot ot gratitude to the folks in town who had the foresight – and love of this place – to protect it. They do the hard work of getting laws passed to protect trees (damn tree huggers) and of getting hard cash allocated to preserve urban parks like these.  It doesn’t happen on its own.