Autumnal Equinox 2021 Altering Perspectives

       Inexorably the seasons change once again.  Inevitably our earth’s climate and our world’s sociology change as well, and that change challenges all of us.  But as I watch for geese and cranes flying south, and as I joyfully observe the first hints of colors in the aspen, oak, and maple on the mountain, I still find peace of mind and I still harbor hope. 
         One of my favorite authors once said that when many people finally open their eyes to how quickly and how radically our climate is changing, this reality will send them from a state of denial into a state of despair.  But I know in my heart that there’s an in-between.  And as always, I believe in the magnificent regenerative power of Nature.  I believe in the inspiring innovative human mind.  I believe that both man and nature will survive. 
         My heart truly goes out to the millions who suffer the most from fire, flood, drought, and sickness.  We must do all we can to help our fellow humans whenever we can.  At the same time, I watch with fascination as the changes unfold.
         The changing climate is allowing new plant species to grow in northern places, species that could never survive there before.  Waterways are opening up that have been frozen for centuries, and undoubtedly secrets frozen in ice and permafrost are being released and discovered.  Unexpected downpours in certain desert places are facilitating explosive blooms of plants that have been dormant for decades.  And many animal species are adapting, surviving, perhaps even thriving.
         I know it’s not much, but due to fewer winter storms near home, I was able to commute 150 days on bicycle—something that was impossible ten years ago.  (I did have to toughen myself up for the dry cold zero-degree mornings though).  I know it’s not much, but I was able to sit out and feel warm rain fall on my face.  In my youth, rain was always quite cold.  And all the trees we’ve planted on our little half-acre in the suburbs are growing for a month or two longer each year.  We now have a small forest—a tiny but significant contribution to a world where so many trees are being consumed by fire.
     And so at this time of balance between summer and winter, I seek my own balance with the world around me, my hands outstretched, both holding on to hope.