Overgrown in time

The normal features of our yard are disappearing under blooms of nasturtiums, clover and lemon grass, all native to this area, and benefiting from the cycles of sun and rain that have characterized our fall and early winter this year.



The stones that form a path to our vegetable garden have shrunk, visibly, to half their normal size. The rotting apples and plums are disappearing into the soil, feeding the greenery above.



It's all part of the natural cycle of life. Threatened, as we are, by cataclysmic global climate change, it is reassuring when our local environment continues to behave as it should.

But the nightmare of a new ice age, or a vastly warmed planet, triggered by our collective foolishness, hovers over every garden and every household. Can we reform in time to save ourselves?

The planet will survive; that much is clear.

But what about us -- or more precisely, our children and grandchildren? Most of them are growing up innocently, blissfully unaware of the horrors that may be evident by the end of this 21st century.

The only activists who can mitigate these tragic consequences are us -- the present adult generations. Either we find a way to act, or we will go to our graves with a dark cloud over our names as the selfish generation that had the information but somehow failed to act. Humanity's last great hope.

I don't know about you, but I do not want that to be my epitaph.

-30-