dry lands and lost love of place.
In the late 1800s a lot of people lived in Vermont. It wasn't a good place to have lots of people and farms so most of them left. The forests they had cut down regrew.
Some of these people, or their descendants, ended up in California. They talked about how much they loved the weather but I think they really missed the East. Why? Well, they tried to re-create it everywhere. They stole water from desert canyons to maintain lush lawns through the dry summer. They scraped native plants off the hills to plant trees, any trees that could grow there, even the most flammable and dangerous. They made lakes everywhere. Not one of them is as good to swim in as Lake Willoughby is on a Vermont summer evening. Before they even learned to love it, the smell of sage drifted away, the chaparral birds left, and all that was left was a translucent, ghostly shadow of the things they left in New England.
I went the other way. I was born in the dry shrublands, or at least in a place that was once dry shrubland or coastal prairie. I roamed the remaining canyons for many years as suburbs and inappropriately-timed fires and invasive plants chipped them away. Eventually though it became too much, and I myself moved east - to a place one of my ancestors fought for in the Revolutionary War under Ira Allen... only to have his descendents leave and attempt to create it somewhere else.
I've been spending time where I shouldn't - on the internet arguing with a bunch of people who don't believe we should try to stop the spread of invasive species. It's heartbreaking... with a time sensitive problem like this, you only get so much time, and then it is too late. People know that, and they set up delays. There are left-wingers trying to stop us from fixing the invasive plant problem and right-wingers trying to stop us from fixing the climate change problem. I don't even know which problem will kill off more chaparral. If climate change makes it drier, at least maybe some of the people in California will go somewhere else. Once the chaparral turns into mustard and weeds, it will probably never come back, if the proper climate even exists for it.
People are so, so frustrating sometimes. Honestly, I don't think I can ever live in California again. In Vermont and Pittsburgh, and many other places, people do have a sense of place and a love for their home HOW IT IS MEANT TO BE not as what they turn it into. I've been in a relationship where someone tried to turn me into someone else. It doesn't work. In fact, that is part of why I left California as well.
If people can't be bothered to learn about and understand something, how can they truly love it? If they don't love it, how could they ever care for or protect it? People are destroying so much that they can't understand, and I have to watch the slow death of things I love.
Sometimes... I know I shouldnt... but sometimes I secretly think about the 50 year drought that passed through California thousands of years ago. Sometimes I want it to come home.
Some of these people, or their descendants, ended up in California. They talked about how much they loved the weather but I think they really missed the East. Why? Well, they tried to re-create it everywhere. They stole water from desert canyons to maintain lush lawns through the dry summer. They scraped native plants off the hills to plant trees, any trees that could grow there, even the most flammable and dangerous. They made lakes everywhere. Not one of them is as good to swim in as Lake Willoughby is on a Vermont summer evening. Before they even learned to love it, the smell of sage drifted away, the chaparral birds left, and all that was left was a translucent, ghostly shadow of the things they left in New England.
I went the other way. I was born in the dry shrublands, or at least in a place that was once dry shrubland or coastal prairie. I roamed the remaining canyons for many years as suburbs and inappropriately-timed fires and invasive plants chipped them away. Eventually though it became too much, and I myself moved east - to a place one of my ancestors fought for in the Revolutionary War under Ira Allen... only to have his descendents leave and attempt to create it somewhere else.
I've been spending time where I shouldn't - on the internet arguing with a bunch of people who don't believe we should try to stop the spread of invasive species. It's heartbreaking... with a time sensitive problem like this, you only get so much time, and then it is too late. People know that, and they set up delays. There are left-wingers trying to stop us from fixing the invasive plant problem and right-wingers trying to stop us from fixing the climate change problem. I don't even know which problem will kill off more chaparral. If climate change makes it drier, at least maybe some of the people in California will go somewhere else. Once the chaparral turns into mustard and weeds, it will probably never come back, if the proper climate even exists for it.
People are so, so frustrating sometimes. Honestly, I don't think I can ever live in California again. In Vermont and Pittsburgh, and many other places, people do have a sense of place and a love for their home HOW IT IS MEANT TO BE not as what they turn it into. I've been in a relationship where someone tried to turn me into someone else. It doesn't work. In fact, that is part of why I left California as well.
If people can't be bothered to learn about and understand something, how can they truly love it? If they don't love it, how could they ever care for or protect it? People are destroying so much that they can't understand, and I have to watch the slow death of things I love.
Sometimes... I know I shouldnt... but sometimes I secretly think about the 50 year drought that passed through California thousands of years ago. Sometimes I want it to come home.