You would be hard-pressed to not see the way the orange Tiger Lilies lit by the sun after the torrential rains look so much like fire, their petals tongues of flame in the greenery. We have had mostly rains now, after the burning season which still goes on north of us here in Quebec, Canada. We’ve been able now to breathe fresh air for awhile and it tastes like the old days. But we are only at the beginning of the actual fire season.
If you go to the SOFEU website where they list the fires happening here, about half way up the province on their map is a blue line. North of this line they let the fires burn unchallenged. And burn they do. Day after day. And depending on the winds we might idly remember this in our wanderings when the scent of it catches us. A wilderness burning, people displaced, animals frantic fleeing. So early in the year. And are we secretly grateful now not to be in British Columbia and Alberta where the massive clouds of smoke like the remnants of hell itself cover the provinces drifting south. We have our small reprieve.
It is the fires that made me do it. Feed little Godot the raccoon. This creature coming here from the forest because I think of the treachery and struggle and savagery of nature sometimes. The wild in the wilderness. He puts his small long fingers on mine and grabs the treat from the palm of my hand. His fingers are surprisingly soft at the touch. He still comes in the night before dusk scratching at the window and then whips around the house to the door to wait for me. I probably should not have started this but I did and now he has a small little parcel of my heart. But I know he is wild and will maybe one day not return. Life is just loss if you think of it. We must work hard to find the gains to temper that but sometimes we don’t because we are too tired to engage or we are now silenced with our differences and we live quiet with that knowledge. As some of us do, waiting for Godot when the sun is not yet there.
Now I can always look at politics and nuclear war and mRNA vaccines and social movements and economics and protests, but to look at the environmental stuff—I cannot do it for long. I simply cannot do it. For some they are just trees in a forest but to me, each tree is its own presence—a testament to living reaching to the sky and host to so much life itself. Each tree gone a mourning. And yet, even dry and grey and gone, it hosts more life. The little bugs, the woodpeckers.
At the back of my house, a dead tree sits there. I don’t know why it died. Perhaps it was its time. I’ve not had it chopped down yet because it stands in memory of so many things and even if it fell, its not so big to do much damage. For many years the hummingbirds nested there and in the rain would sit on the branches with their long beaks grooming feathers as if they were eagles with all that pride on display. There are scratch marks there on its trunk from the skuttle of squirrels. I remember one red squirrel my father, now long gone, had tamed who lived there in that tree waiting for his peanuts. There are very few red squirrels now. They’re mostly black or grey and savage with each other.
Watching the squirrels it sometimes make me wonder if human beings simply have this savage nature. The divide and conquer tactics at the social level has worked so well in such short order. It leaves some of us horrified. We didn’t think it could happen. We did not see it coming. We could not have foreseen that our instincts to love and protect and celebrate differences could be so twisted into such unrecognizable hatred for the other. How could tolerance turn into intolerance? How could the fight against oppression turn into oppression itself? How could we all have been so stupid? Well, not all of course, but most. We can only be grateful for those who fight against it without the condemnation of “othering.” We are not each other’s enemy. That realization would change the world for the better. One can always live in hope and not die in despair.
But now I must feed the skunk. Apparently if you feed raccoons, so too do you feed skunks. Now that might be a good reason to not feed raccoons. Except… well… its not the fault of the skunk that it is socially unacceptable. He was born that way and he fights to survive like us all. I’m waiting for colder weather so I can talk myself out of all this nonsense. But in the meantime, it is only these wild creatures that can make me smile these days. In this world.
Lovely.
"The divide and conquer tactics at the social level has worked so well in such short order. It leaves some of us horrified. We didn’t think it could happen. We did not see it coming. We could not have foreseen that our instincts to love and protect and celebrate differences could be so twisted into such unrecognizable hatred for the other. How could tolerance turn into intolerance? How could the fight against oppression turn into oppression itself? How could we all have been so stupid? Well, not all of course, but most. We can only be grateful for those who fight against it without the condemnation of “othering.” "
Beautifully said - I share these sentiments and struggle to really understand. (long long term manipulation, an actual tech in place we don't know about, are part of how I explain it) In sync with your comments on trees too. (some of my best friends) And yeah, I can't finish an article on the animals who were vaxxed in zoos, dying. Can't do it.
I just got back from my a visit with my sis in CO where she has regular fox visits - she makes them chicken and hard boiled eggs. Sweetest thing ever seeing them look in the window.
Sanity will return - I don't know when. The spell will break. Nature is in charge, humans, fully part of nature, will survive. (Enough of us anyway.) I don't know why I know that.
Thank you for the rec. Didn't know your stack - I look forward to reading more. Best to you.