Monday, April 24, 2023

The Art of Nature



(Art by Sophia)

Recently, I was explaining to one of my grandchildren my imperfect understanding of how shellfish, waves and the roots of mangrove plants conspire to build islands in the warm salty waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

If you’ve ever been around mangroves, you probably -- like me — have mixed feelings about them. They are, speaking frankly, an ugly species of gnarly, red-brown tangles of underbrush with spider-like roots that grow every which way.

And some pretty nasty real spiders hang from their upper leaves as well.

Down below, mangroves provide housing for snails, barnacles, bryozoans, tunicates, mollusks, sponges, polychaete worms, isopods, amphipods, shrimps, crabs, and jellyfish.

It is not uncommon for an alligator to be lurking in the waters nearby.

But those spider-like roots serve a useful purpose when it comes to island-building. That’s because of the shellfish that live and die in their roots.

Once dead, the winds, tides, salt, sun and currents have their way with them.

Battered in place, the shells eventually break down into grains of sun-bleached sand. When enough of that accumulates in one place — presto! You have a new island with lovely sand beaches. At least that’s my understanding.

Mind you, this happens at a geological pace, i.e., very, very slowly.

Profit-seeking human cultures, by contrast, move all-too quickly. Using modern machinery, a large growth of ocean-front mangrove can be ripped away in days or weeks, to make room for a new city of shiny, high-rise condos rented out to multiple occupants on a time-share basis.

That’s the part I still have to explain to my grandchild: That while it takes millennia to create a new island, it only takes weeks to destroy that from ever again being an option.

(The artist for this piece is 12 years old. She recently visited a lovely shell island on her spring break. She made this piece as a birthday gift for me.)

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