Starting
Point Perserving earths heirlooms
By JULIE GEIGER
Nearly two years after buying my
farm, I finally got around to pruning the lilac bushes this spring. The only
window of opportunity for this particular chore is immediately after they
bloom, and I didnt make it last year or the year before.
The elegant, gnarled bushes had not been pruned for years.
Rebellious teenager shoots were thick around the original bases. I
started on the outside, and gradually found myself wading through to the center
to reach the dead wood and gangly interior branches.
Although lilacs are my favorite flower, Ive never lived
anywhere before where they grew. I feel immensely privileged now. To have not
just one but four mature beauties is wealth I never imagined possessing.
Further, these beauties were planted decades ago by the loving
hands of my great-great-Aunt Carrie. She died before I was born, and yet I
favor her so strongly she could have been my mother. For me, her lilac bushes
are priceless living heirlooms.
Even though pruning was an inescapable necessity, standing inside
the lilac bush, with the ancient sun streaming down through the heart-shaped
leaves onto my strong biceps and sharp clippers, felt almost sacrilegious. It
bothered me enough that I found myself murmuring consolingly as I made the
cuts, sort of like a good doctor talks an injured patient through a painful
healing procedure.
I am not a tree doctor though. I imagine my novice attempt caused
some serious shock to the plant. I hope the research I did ahead of time kept
me from completely botching my trial run. However, the wide chasm between
research and reality cannot be ignored. I wont know for a year or two or
three how successful the operation was. The turnaround time on good works
seldom offers immediate gratification.
The whole lilac-trimming experience mimics my ambivalence about
the environment, and specifically about global warming. I treasure this planet
beyond measure. Earth itself is the most magnificent, priceless heirloom we
humans have the privilege of collectively sharing.
The legacy future generations receive depends on todays
successful surgery. Have we as individuals, communities, nations,
researched, reduced, reused and recycled enough to heal the wounds unknowingly
inflicted by generations of well-intentioned individuals?
I was heartened to see the Bush administration finally admit there
is a problem and acknowledge human activities are the primary cause. I guess
thats some small measure of progress. But without action to back up those
words, its just more hot air.
At the very least, we need fuel efficiency and emission standards
for our gas-guzzling cars. Our flagging recycling industry must be rejuvenated.
Recycling a single aluminum can saves enough energy to power a television for
three hours! And our energy consumption must be overhauled in all areas.
As the temperature and the sea levels rise, as the droughts and
hurricanes become increasingly severe, it is obvious that we must take action
now. Our window of opportunity to perform the necessary pruning on
our own activities is rapidly closing. If we wait any longer, severe
amputations will be required, and the quality of life we currently enjoy will
be impossible for future generations.
That is not a legacy. Its a tragedy.
Julie Geiger lives, farms and writes at Wild Rose Acres near
Everest, Kan.
National Catholic Reporter, June 21,
2002
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