People love their native landscapes, generally. We grow up with a feeling of familiarity,
history, comfort and appreciation for the place we are from. On this Earth Day, I am celebrating the window
view that has been mine for many years. Sometimes there are small dramas, human or creature, several stories down
on the ground, but the beauty plays out in the canopy of the trees, in the change of light and wind on the branches
and leaves.
Because this is city, there isn't perfection. Just up to the right, out of frame, are shreds of plastic clinging
to a branch, and *in this recording, the bird calls are undercut
by the noise from a truck hauling a tree-shredder——on the other side of the building, a contractor is
trimming branches from city-planted trees on the street.
Here in the backyards, property owners determine Fate. A few years ago, two lots over, a very tall curly willow required
removal of one branch weakened by a storm, but someone saw fit to cut down the entire tree. A concrete patio was
installed with umbrella-ed table, barbecue grill, and hammock. For a number of days a family with five or so young
children made good use of that patio. Since then it's stayed empty. Precious life continues, however, over here in
these trees.
Every day they tell me we must preserve what we have.
