“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.” — John Muir

The sun rises today and smiles upon a snow-covered pond and frosted tree boughs. The process rarely changes and is always somewhat predictable. First the storm, when the world grows silent as the snow descends in a hush from laden clouds. Then comes the lull, as the stage is cleared for the next act, which could be more of the same, a switch to a different form of precipitation, or, sunlight. As narrow as the range is between fair and foul weather, I always find the denouement remarkable and the outcome interesting.

As the air warms ever so slowly on a bright, sun-filled morning after a snowfall, trees begin to release their coating, and it falls in soft clumps to the equally white earth. Large errant flakes drift by to resettle elsewhere, while blue jays, chickadees, woodpeckers and squirrels knock the rest of them down. Those lingering dead oak leaves ”“ that won’t leave the branch until spring’s new growth displaces them ”“ sway in the wind as though nothing happened. And as far as they are concerned, nothing did. Each thing ”“ each branch, twig, blade of dried grass or bit of moss ”“ perseveres against the year’s greatest weather challenges and most will survive. And those that don’t, will give rise to others younger and more vibrant and ready for their performance in the myriad world of woodland life for however long it is allotted them to be.

Whatever is incongruous in these woods, and in other such places, was most likely brought in by members of a supposedly more enlightened species who are never quite content enough to leave things just as they are. Objects that once cluttered a factory floor now clutter the forest floor, and ideas designed to draw more people to the beauties of a particular place often do everything but that, and in the end, take away from its organic and unplanned beauty. A blatant disregard for our natural surroundings prompts some to dispose of undesirables in inappropriate places where they disfigure the Earth’s countenance and spoil the view. Not only does such a dishonoring of our environment not bode well, its consequences are already all too evident among us, and there can now be no turning the clock back. The damage done entirely at the hands of humans, well-meaning or otherwise, didn’t take all that long to achieve, relatively speaking. But it would take eons to undo, and none of us has that kind of time.

That doesn’t mean there is nothing we can do, however small or insignificant our efforts might seem given the enormity of the crimes we have committed against our innocent planet. Each thing we do to honor nature’s presence in our lives creates a small delay in the slow process of deterioration, and that can be as simple as recycling that empty cereal box or greasy french fry bag instead of either relegating it to the waste stream or, what’s worse, tossing it out a car window. Why give nature even more work than she already has by expecting her to dispose of our trash as well? Doesn’t it make more sense to simply take her as she is, and cherish her ability to take our collective breaths away in the most unlikely places, as well as her boundless capacity to guarantee us all an escape when life as we know it gets to be too much?

I, for one, am thankful for nature’s refusal to give in and for how all of her combined forces join together to make quick work of whatever takes away from her beauty. For leaves will eventually fall and cover discarded beer cans, and while it may take time, candy wrappers and fast food boxes eventually decompose and disappear into the Earth’s vast interior. And whatever is currently trending among sporting enthusiasts and that requires a major alteration of a formerly wild and secluded spot will eventually fall into disuse and be left to the Earth to dispose of.

Meanwhile, those who see and feel deeply will continue to do what they can to offset those forces that would render the wild places barren and knock nature’s delicate balance off kilter. They will continue to honor the calling to restore harmony to the natural world, to soften the hard edges and reshape the sharp angles, much as in the ancient art of feng shui, only employed on a much grander scale and for a much nobler cause.

— Rachel Lovejoy, a freelance writer living in Lyman, who enjoys exploring the woods of southern Maine, can be reached via email at rachell1950@yahoo.com.