A Flower For You.

From a morning spent up at McLeod’s Pond:

I cried on this particular morning; the road up into Catamount State Forest was “improved” this spring, and the lazy masses who now drive nearly to the Pond have already gone an astonishing way toward destroying this delicate wonder. A beautiful, lonesome pine silhouetted on a rocky point has been chopped half-way through, presumably in an attempt to feed a nearby smoldering “bonfire” of junk furniture which had been trucked in. Broken beer bottles litter the rocks where people usually sun and swim. An abandoned cooler reeked so vilely that I covered my mouth as I hurried past, not having the stomach to empty it out. Piles of garbage have sprung up all along the once pristine shore.

I carried out what I could, but it hardly made a dent.

I’ll never understand the hubris and disrespect and abject stupidity of people who treat our world this way, and fear that my pathetic efforts to undo their damage will be swept away like grains of sand from a storm ravaged beach.

Pray it isn’t so.