
Note: I wrote this to my “younger self”. I’m old – the glass is a bit more than half empty. Day 26. Write a letter to a future self, reflecting on the impact of the challenge on your relationship with nature.
To my younger self:
preferable mid-20s because I’m apt to think this is from a crank otherwise.
Go down to the creek. Cup your hands, and drink. Taste its clarity. Remember its flavour. Think of words to describe it. Bright as sunshine. Cold as snowy rain. That’s how I remember it. Is it still like that?
By the time your first grandchild is placed in your arms, this creek will be silt. A slow trickle, except when the storms come, when water flashes against the tree roots and over-tops the brim. There will be plastic bottles floating in it. Nobody will think to remove the shopping trolley that clogs the creek’s flow – it’ll flood the houses along the embankment. Sandbags. Repeat after me: make sandbags.
Don’t chop down the pear trees by the outbuildings. Just trim back the branches by half, and the roots will recede from the foundation. Never chop down a tree; let nature take it when it chooses.
Refuse to bring plastic home. Don’t let it into your house. It won’t kill you, but it’ll kill everything else.
Remember that roses have a scent. Stop and smell them.
Be kind.
M.
Written for The Wildness Challenge. Day 26. Write a letter to a future self, reflecting on the impact of the challenge on your relationship with nature. Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.
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