Going green

There’s a wood thrush singing from across the yard. She’s been at it since dawn, continuing even as daylight came strongly forth—the dense shade of our leafy woods, her retreat. From behind a wall of green, her voice resounds. This is her home.
I remember the response upon telling someone of having her here, in our woods—waking with her song a common sound in our world.
“You must live in paradise,” he said.
And I agreed.

We all do. Or could.
For my world is our world.
And what I treasure here, I cannot call my own.
The earth, water and sky belong to none—and all.

We’d like to think we can postpone making changes in our ways. It’s man’s nature to indulge himself until there is discomfort—the expanding waistline that is ignored until our pants won’t close. Or the troublesome tooth that is neglected until the ache keeps us from rest.

This week, the price of gasoline crossed the $4.00/gallon mark--uncomfortable for us all, to be sure.
But, hopefully, the discomfort that is needed to prompt change.

We’ve made a change—to a new lawnmower.
No gasoline?
No problem!



And, although this amounts to just a small difference in our way of doing things, when the choice to do differently arose, (dead lawnmower in the garage), we chose change.


This evening, as the sun slips past the horizon, the wood thrush’s song is still questioning. Asking of me what the world will be like for my children’s children.

"Will it be?"
"I don’t know."

"Will it be?"
"I don’t know."

My actions alone are not enough.
But, with every choice I make, I hope another does the same.
Until paradise is preserved.

Gotta love that logo!

Have you made any changes?