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Poetry Sunday: The Moment by Margaret Atwood

I love this poem by Margaret Atwood. It is a timely reminder that we truly "own" nothing here. We are visitors only and Earth will surely continue when we are gone. And it is incumbent on us to do what we can to preserve what is here for those who follow us. The Moment by Margaret Atwood The moment when, after many years of hard work and a long voyage you stand in the centre of your room, house, half-acre, square mile, island, country, knowing at last how you got there, and say, I own this, is the same moment when the trees unloose their soft arms from around you, the birds take back their language, the cliffs fissure and collapse, the air moves back from you like a wave and you can't breathe. No, they whisper. You own nothing. You were a visitor, time after time climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming. We never belonged to you. You never found us. It was always the other way round.

This week in birds - #627

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  A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : This is the wonderful Whimbrel , a bird of the coasts of North, Central, and South American. It is a prodigious flyer that may travel as much as 2,500 miles in migration. I have frequently encountered it on autumn birding trips along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. It is the American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week .  *~*~*~* When those NASA astronauts splashed down earlier this week, they had a special welcoming committee - a pod of curious dolphins .  *~*~*~* Unfortunately, much of the news of the environment this week emanates from Washington and the new administration there as it continues its slash and burn takeover of government agencies. One action was to plan the closure of the Global Monitoring Laboratory in Hilo, Hawaii, that collects data on global carbon dioxide levels. (Because who need that, right?) The team there had also been posting regular updates on the eruption of the Kilauea volcano ...

Poetry Sunday: The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein

When my kids were little, I read to them every night after putting them to bed. It's a ritual well-known to many parents of course. We had our favorites that we returned to time and time again. This was one of them. The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein Once there was a tree.... and she loved a little boy. And everyday the boy would come and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest. He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches and eat apples. And they would play hide-and-go-seek. And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade. And the boy loved the tree.... very much. And the tree was happy. But time went by. And the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone. Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy.' 'I am too big to climb and play' said the boy. 'I want to buy things and have ...

This week in birds - #626

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  A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : The American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week was one of my favorite birds when I was growing up. It is the beautiful Eastern Towhee , although when I was a child I knew it as the Rufous-sided Towhee . By any name, it is a remarkably beautiful bird with a sweet song. *~*~*~* Shall we celebrate "Gulf of Mexico Day" on March 18?  *~*~*~* The Environmental Protection Agency has become the Environmental Destruction Agency in the new administration. Apparently that administration believes that greenhouse gases are good for our health  and there will be no resistance to climate change . And birds will die as a result. *~*~*~* In fact, the Fracker in Chief, otherwise called the Secretary of Energy, believes that the world needs more fossil fuels , not less. *~*~*~* A new study indicates that microplastics may already be affecting our food supply .  *~*~*~* Meanwhile, the fossil fuel lobby is campaigning fo...

Poetry Sunday: March by A.E. Housman

From " A Shropshire Lad " by A.E. Housman, here is his ode to March.  MARCH by A.E. Housman The Sun at noon to higher air, Unharnessing the silver Pair That late before his chariot swam, Rides on the gold wool of the Ram. So braver notes the storm-cock sings To start the rusted wheel of things, And brutes in field and brutes in pen Leap that the world goes round again. The boys are up the woods with day To fetch the daffodils away, And home at noonday from the hills They bring no dearth of daffodils. Afield for palms the girls repair, And sure enough the palms are there, And each will find by hedge or pond Her waving silver-tufted want. In farm and field through all the shire The eye beholds the heart’s desire; Ah, let not only mine be vain, For lovers should be loved again.

This week in birds - #625

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A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : The American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week is a handsome shorebird, the Hudsonian Godwit . The "Hudwit" is a particularly well-traveled bird that breeds in Alaska but, after the breeding season is over, it may fly all the way to the tip of South America, ending up on Tierra del Fuego.  *~*~*~* The United States is burning. Literally. There are wildfires burning all across the country, many of them in Texas. Meanwhile, the federal government is cutting federal wildfire crews and the consequences of that could be dire indeed. *~*~*~* Global sea ice hit a record low in February, which was the third warmest February on record. *~*~*~* And then there is the  El Niño/ La Niña  weather pattern in the Pacific that has its effect on global weather. *~*~*~* There are thirty-six companies that are responsible for at least half of the world's climate-altering emissions. *~*~*~* Here is a list of the worst...

Poetry Sunday: March by William Cullen Bryant

And so we've come to March already as the days and weeks of this new year fly by. March can be, as William Cullen Bryant describes, a stormy month in more northerly climes. Here, near the Gulf Coast, it is generally more peaceful, but we shall see just what she has up her sleeves for us this year.  March by William Cullen Bryant The stormy March is come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies, I hear the rushing of the blast, That through the snowy valley flies. Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild stormy month! in praise of thee; Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou, to northern lands, again The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring. And, in thy reign of blast and storm, Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day, When the changed winds are soft and warm, And heaven puts on the blue of May. Then sing aloud the gushing rills And the full springs, from f...