Another busy day with little time to read and write. And I still haven’t finished Catherine Hayhoe’s talk. It reminds me of a Language of God podcast (maybe this one: Podcast S1E4 - Faith & Soil ), where one of the guests mentioned that to be an environmentalist, one is perpetually grieving what other people don’t notice.
I grew up swimming in Lake Huron (Michigan side) starting in the early '70s, paddling around under water with my eyes open, not able to see my sister a foot away through the rich, jade green water. In my early teens we started hearing a lot about zebra muscles. Now people marvel at the beautiful, clear water. I weep.
It’s spring time here, and I’m enjoying an abnormally normal spring. Gloom, unpredictable changes, snow. then sun, then cold, slashing rain. We have far too many pretty springs here now. “Look at the pretty flowers all over the yard.” But that’s not how it is supposed to be.
Maybe I need to skip to the hopeful part of Hayhoe’s talk. Awareness of the problem is already stifling.