floruit

Because Dennis Lee deserves a wider readership, and because I am finishing up a post about decision-making and scientific literacy.

floruit

Was a one, was a
once, was a nothing:
mattered and gone. And how cleanly

our floruit will fade into
moteflicker, starcycle, eddies of
gloryfit ex. Where

nothing will
sing of us; build on us; blazon our
hubris & only

~~~~~

floruit is a noun meaning “the period during which a person, school, or movement was most active or flourishing.”

From Dennis Lee’s fabulous 2003 collection un. Which I got today in the mail, and finished today, and sticky-tagged all over. What I love about his apocalypse poems is the way he rips into and reconstructs words that can mean only one thing, that have a heavy emotional evocation without any history whatsoever. Like un itself: not just a removing or destroying but a negating; they evoke skin-crawling horror at what we’ve done in a way that the best environmental prose rarely does.

Open Blog

Look! Pretty! (Taken at the Butterfly Conservatory)

Welcome to anyone who’s wandering over from either Support for Special Needs or Heritage Toronto. Please poke around and ask any questions you may have. (Look at me–I’m conducting my blog like a public meeting open house. Hi! Do you have any questions about what you’re reading? Is there anything I can help you with? If you’d like to give me your contact information I can follow up with you when I have an answer. Thanks for coming!)

New Neighbours

And how often do you suppose this happened in Toronto?

fawn near Dundas Valley Conservation Area

Just hanging out on the path near the local park along with mom and a few aunts. They might be skittish, but they’re not at all afraid of humans.

dinnertime

As you can see.

Beautiful, aren’t they?

However, I am once again disappointed in my fellow humans, many of whom were running or cycling through in groups and somehow failed to notice the large herbivores on the paths directly in front of them. Talk about your invisible gorillas. If you just open your eyes and pay attention, there is always something worth seeing.

Conflict and Public Consultation

It has recently come to my attention that all of my environmental do-gooderism is a carefully constructed front for my real desire to infest the countryside with wildlife-destroying industrial machinery, all for financial gain. Thought you should know.

I’m not dead, but there are some members of local anti-wind groups who apparently wish I were.

Ontario Regulation 359/09 under the Environmental Protection Act stipulates, as part of the Renewable Energy Approval application process, that project proponents must carry out certain public consultation activities. These activities are excellent and necessary regardless of whether or not they are enshrined in law, if only because a person ought to be consulted when you are planning a major construction project in their neighbourhood. Sometimes, local residents know important and useful information not collected anywhere else, and that information might be necessary to plan the project properly. Sometimes they have concerns which, regardless of whether they seem valid, deserve an airing and an honest and complete sharing of available information.

But sometimes they just want to yell at someone, and the consultant for the project makes as good a target as anyone else. Wind energy projects are drawing more and more vitriol from local communities, each  apparently convincing itself that wind turbines are dangerous, noisy health hazards that pulverize bird and bat populations, drive down house prices and don’t even reduce carbon emissions. That none of this is true, and it can all be proven to be untrue, is irrelevant, as Farhad Manjoo argues in True Enough: people no longer have the time or resources to evaluate all of the issues they need to make decisions on in a rational and empirical way, if they ever did. Now most people find an authority, self-proclaimed or no, who appears to be credible and trustworthy and adopt their conclusions as their own without investigation.

If you’re honest you’ll admit to doing this too. Every time you go to the doctor and walk out with a prescription without reading through the medical literature on its origins, efficacy and safety, this is exactly what you’ve done. Most of the time it works well, but sometimes it doesn’t.

Venting at a target too is valid so far as it goes, I suppose, though I’m nearly positive that it’s not what the drafters of Ontario Regulation 359/09 had in mind when they included a requirement for two public meetings, the first to have at least 30 days advance notice and once the draft Project Description Report has been completed, and the last to be held at least sixty days after the draft reports are released for public review. The timing and requirements for these meetings ensure that the public, first of all, gets plenty of notice that a project is brewing before anything is finalized and while they still have plenty of opportunity to provide input and affect the final outcome, and secondly, so that they have plenty of time to read over and respond to the reports before needing to attend a final meeting with their questions and concerns.

The drafters of these requirements hadn’t taken into account, I don’t think, a large and growing community of anti-wind activists willing to travel considerable distances to public meetings in far-flung communities in the apparent belief that anyone involved with a wind project must be acting in collusion with a corrupt industrial wind complex, in full knowledge of wind’s deadly impacts and with callous disregard for the interests of the local community.

For example, one might have a group of angry residents surrounding one at an initial public meeting, essentially mandated to be held before the final layout is known, demanding to know where the turbines and cables and access roads are going to go. Some of those residents may pull out their video camera to demand answers on tape, and when they don’t like the answers you provide, they might call you a liar. They might demand that you release confidential and private information about third parties. They might whip out their cameras to photograph yourself and your colleagues as you walk around the room, or talk to community members. They might even open a back door, thus letting in so many additional people that the Fire Marshal comes and shuts the meeting down. You won’t find that particular tidbit in this article, but you will find me if you read down far enough.

I’d like to stress, and I can’t stress it strongly enough, that this is a minority, and I recognize that. I’ve met and spoken with many people at these public meetings who, whether or not they support the projects, were wonderful people with valuable input. I love that. Those conversations are why we hold the meetings in the first place, and why we’ll continue to. I absolutely do not want to paint everyone who dislikes wind energy as boorish, aggressive or potentially violent. If I knew nothing about wind energy, found out a wind farm might be built within seeing distance of my home, and had access only to the most easily-available information I could find online, I might be scared and angry too. I can absolutely understand why people want a presentation and Q&A session, even as I understand why it’s generally not a good idea (i.e., the public meetings are supposed to be about information exchange, and we don’t get any feedback or information from the community when we’re on a stage defending wind energy for three hours). But understanding doesn’t help me figure out what to do. How do you have a conversation with someone who actually articulates an opinion that you are exactly the same as a tobacco industry PR rep covering up the scientific information that smoking causes cancer?

None of this makes sense if you believe that people make rational decisions based on full consideration of the evidence, but it all falls into place if you believe that they have chosen a source they believe is credible and accepted their conclusions as their own. It’s an issue of trust, as Manjoo describes. I must be cast as a villain or none of the anti-wind stuff makes sense; and once I am cast as a villain I deserve whatever I get at these meetings, including thinly-veiled threats.

~~~~~

About three and a half years ago, someone threatened me with death and forced sterilization because they didn’t like one of my daughter’s traits. The details aren’t relevant and it’s a painful episode that I’d rather not relive, but I have been thinking about it lately while processing these public meetings for reasons you may be able to intuit.

I remember too, feeling in the aftermath that whatever I did I could not retaliate–not because death threats don’t warrant it, but because that death threat was founded on a world view that saw an Us and Them defined by what I consider to be genetic trivia. If I retaliated, I believed, then I participated in the creation of that world, I reaffirmed that dividing line between my daughter’s humanity and his. This I refused to do. Like it or not, “Mike,” you and my daughter are both human.

I’m trying to hold on to the same perspective here. If I begin to deal with this small group of people as a Them, as an opposing force with which I need to do battle, then I reaffirm the dividing line they’ve drawn and entrench the distrust and the mentality of opposing sides that gave rise to the whole thing in the first place. I can’t fight them; I need to hold on to the underlying vision of a humanity and a cause that transcends politics and self-interest that got me into this field and this work in the first place. Like it or not, we are on the same side, part of the same species sharing the same fate on this isolated, fragile ecosphere.

I still don’t know what to say or how to say it, though. Expect a lot of rumination on this subject over the next little while. There must be information out there on how to open up a dialogue with someone who thinks you’re evil and wishes you were dead. And if I find it you’re sure to see it here eventually.

Monarch Caterpillar

A Monarch

Taken this past weekend at a friend’s cottage, walking in the woods, where a bunch of largeish monarch caterpillars are fattening themselves up on milkweed in preparation for metamorphosis. Look at the size of that thing!

Also, they’re soft, if you’ve never tried petting one. Velvety.

Given that it’s august and the monarch migration to Mexico begins in late August each year, this caterpillar will fly south thousands of miles after its metamorphosis is complete. No one knows how the migratory route is transferred from one generation to the next.

Milkweed plants are poisonous, and monarch caterpillars become poisonous from eating them–an advantage they retain after transforming into butterflies. This explains why monarch caterpillars have such bold colouring compared to the larvae of other species, which tend to be camoflauged. And while most adult monarchs will live for four or five weeks, those who reach maturity in the migration period can live for eight or nine months and won’t reach sexual maturity or breed until after the wintering period in Mexico.

This Hinterland Who’s Who page has some great basic information about monarchs. Evolution has done some amazing things with life on this planet, eh? There is no other insect species in the world thought to have this multi-generational migration pattern.

Regardless, kids love caterpillars. If you find a large stand of milkweed plants right about now, you stand a good chance of finding some, or maybe even a chrysalis or two. Or head to Point Pelee National Park in September to see the peak migration first-hand.

Summer Vacation

Niagara River, whirlpool

By which you might deduce, and correctly, that I was recently in Niagara Falls. It’s not quite the sort of nature shot I usually go for, being large and imposing and Charismatic, not to mention Touristified, but it’s not the river’s fault, is it? What I love about it is the colour of the river, not really done justice here: a deep, glossy, dark teal. Damn the sun for washing it all out again.

And on a much smaller, more local scale, another shot of Webster’s Falls, taken on another day:

Webster's Falls, July 2010, sunset

This while I work up a post on public consultation under Ontario Regulation 359/09, under the Ontario Environmental Protection Act. Which is distinctly going to be one of the steeper parts of the learning curve.

Not dead.

Just moving. Now the move is over, and Bell has decided to let me have telephone and internet service, and I finally got to get outside for something involving non-human nature.

Webster's Falls, Spencer Gorge Conservation Area

It was pretty awesome. Next time I go it’ll be dusk, so I can take some photos that aren’t automatically overexposed. All that sunlight-on-water washed out just about everything.

Childhood should involve catching frogs

In this case, green frogs and cricket frogs, with a net.

I took this at the pond where the Newtonbrook Creek trail meets up with the main East Don Parkland path. Juvenile frogs stick their wee heads out of the water like slightly oversized bubbles by the dozens. In one shot taken Saturday afternoon, I counted twenty frogs. Twenty!

Course now I can’t find them all again. See how many you count.

look at them all!

These are green frogs, identified by the double ridge down their backs, the pale green to dark greenish-brown colouring with spots, bands on the legs, bright green mouth, and mating call that sounds like someone badly plucking an out-of-tune banjo. Males have eardrums bigger than their eyes, like this one:

In which you can also see my reflection.

If you want to see green frogs galore, go right now to that pond and stare. At first all you will see is murky water with bubbles and algae and plants floating on top. Keep staring, and soon you will see that some of those little bubbles and plants have a pair of small golden eyes.

The big ones can’t be missed.

We also saw this lovely brownsnake, which might not a word you personally would apply to the brownsnake, but it was small and slithered in exactly the way a snake should. Brownsnakes, apparently, live in large numbers in suburban and even urban habitats, but are reclusive and quite small (this one was about 20″ long) so they are very rarely seen. This one certainly did not appreciate being photographed; several times it lunged at the camera lens, baring its teeth. Poor thing.

I am hip-deep in wind farm studies and the last of the packing, or I would offer you some more science to go with the photography. Consider this (another) IOU.

in lieu of an actual post, please accept this damselfly

I am so, so, so close to being done my Theory of Everything post. But–well, close isn’t done.

In the meantime–hey, look! Pretty.

It’s a bluet. These are the ones that beat their wings so fast they look like tiny blue wands being waved by invisible elfin sorcerors. Closely related to dragonflies, but capable of folding their wings when at rest and with eyes on either side of their head instead of joining in the middle.

“Flowers”

apple blossoms

When I can’t sleep, I sew.

I don’t necessarily sew well, mind, since the type of exhaustion that being sleepless at 3:00 am brings is typically not conducive to straight, even stitches and the proper use of scissors. But there’s something meditative, quiet and not-electronic about midnight sewing that makes insomnia more bearable, so when I can’t sleep, I sew.

Last night, before I finally fell asleep around 5:30, I worked on a small coin purse I’m putting together out of denim from an old pair of jeans and various fabric scraps, appliqued on in the shape of flowers. Or, I should say, in the five-blobbed round that we typically think of as flower-shaped, though off the top of my head last night/early this morning I couldn’t think of a single flower shaped that way.

buttercups

Dandelions? No. Daisies? No. Tulips, daffodills, irises? No, no, no. Geraniums, marigolds, lilacs, Queen Anne’s Lace, trilliums, thistles, clover, snapdragons, apple blossoms, columbines, jack-in-the-pulpits, coneflowers, sunflowers, roses, lilies? No.

At 3:00, and then at 4:00 and 5:00, I wondered if there were any North American flowers shaped like a five-blob round. I couldn’t think of a single one. And I wondered, is that what we think flowers look like because we never see actual flowers anymore? Do we reduce every visual scribble or doodle of Flower to this one shape because we don’t know any better? Have our mental representations of flowers become so notional through disuse that, when we think “flower,” we think “kindergarten drawing, supported by a green stick with a narrow, veined green leaf”?

forget-me-nots

How depressing.

After two insufficient hours of sleep I did manage to think of a few: apple blossoms, buttercups, forget-me-nots, and others among them; though the colours, clusters, textures and so on still show both more variety and specificity than our portrayals of them.

A hundred years ago, built human spaces must have been such a relief for most people. Outside all day every day you were surrounded by the not-human, by spaces we didn’t make, species we didn’t control, in landscapes we didn’t form. Imagine to come into a human-built house at the end of such a day, the sense of openness it must have brought. But now? We spend almost our entire lives in human-built and human-controlled environments, trying desperately to eradicate those last little bits of non-human nature that poke through–we call them “weeds” and “pests.” Now it is the human environments that cause us stress, that burn us out and break us down and send us out to spaces we don’t (yet, totally) control for a sense of freedom and escape. Now that we’ve lost all meaningful contact with non-human nature, to the point where when we think of flowers our first thought is not of the actual flowers that evolved and beautified this space for millennia before we got here, but of the artless lopsided blob shapes we drew in kindergarten.

knapweed? wild bergamot? I don't know, but it's not a five-blobbed round

It’s not that the coin purse I’m making is bad. It’s not. It’s colourful, it’s cute, it’s a good use of leftover materials, it’s fun to put together. It’s just that it’s kind of hobbled and impoverished, too. It says “nature” through such hackneyed images that they have lost all context or connection with the nature they’re trying to represent.

I thought, I can do better.

I will, too. I have an idea. After the coin purse, and probably after the move.

I think you can do better too.