Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Tag: environment Page 9 of 13

Lessons From Magpies

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On March 26, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

Initially published as a column in the AM News on Friday, March 20, 2015. 

The most magpies I have seen at one time in our front yard is six. It was January and everything was covered in deep snow then and the six birds were an instant one-of-a-kind decoration for an otherwise barren, dormant tree.

They often scratched in the snow for delicacies only a bird could appreciate and one spot was of particular interest. Enough to steal my attention from writing.

My desk is adequately positioned to provide the best lookout and, aside from the elderly couple that looks up and waves every day as they pass by our house, the magpies have been a welcome interruption since I noticed their elegant attire.

Now there are two left and one seems to be particularly active collecting twigs for a secret project hidden in the cedar hedge. It has to be the nest. According to my reference book, the female preps the inside of the nest, while her partner builds the outside.

They belong to this neighborhood as much as every other resident, and more so.

On my runs on the trails nearby I see crows doing the same this time a year. Twigs, dirt, soft feathers and grass will make it all right for the baby birds to come. The one thought that stuck with me one of these mornings was that their rituals have never changed. Perpetual building of nests every spring, responding to instincts so strong that nothing can stop them from doing what they’ve been doing forever.

The adjacent thought was the unfortunate interference of us humans in all of that nature-driven dance. We do it for many reasons, while often forgetting that the first thing we should do is try to understand nature and how everything works, from the tiniest critter to the most imposing. That in itself would provide a natural barrier towards stomping our feet where we’re not supposed to.

Yet these days we interfere without putting in the due diligence of knowing more, or enough to do it right.

As the provincial government was unfolding the plans to kill wolves in order to protect the dwindling herds of caribou, I wrote a couple of articles about the unfairness of it – given that human encroachment on caribou habitat should be the first to be addressed.

It was suggested to me at the time that I read Ernest Thompson Seton’s story called ‘Lobo, the king of Currumpaw’. So I did. I picked up a copy of ‘Wild Animals I Have Known’ and read more than the wolf story.

I’ve always been a nature lover; no creature was too small or unworthy of consideration. Yet Seton’s accounts of his encounters added an extra layer of dedication to the cause. It takes time to understand nature. Beyond the figure of speech, being observant for long enough, you are rewarded with facts that will deepen your respect for every living thing. There is so much we do not know. Fascination redefined.

Such was Seton’s gift, and so many others’, from old times and new, and the message is one: everything in nature has a purpose, and it is a privilege that we can be part of it. As of late (make that the last couple of centuries here in North America), we have overstepped our welcome in ways that can be described as callous and irresponsible at best.

During the few months of homeschooling my eldest, we focused on Canadian history as one of our subjects. As if the subject to a conspiracy theory of some sort, a common refrain kept surfacing in regards to many aspects of life in early Canada.

Animals were plentiful, until greediness drove many to the brink of extinction. Land and water creatures were hunted, trapped and fished until there was nothing left. Nothing is without end, save for time itself.

Nature’s resilience is well known though, so conservations and repopulation strategies brought many back. Yet despite many successes, repopulating areas once devoid of animals is often less successful than expected. A lesson we should learn from.

If lack of knowledge was a justifiable excuse then, what is our excuse now?

The wolf cull that started a month ago continues. It will be so for the next five years. At the same time, not nearly enough has been done to see the caribou habitat from human activity, the real culprit in the decline.

The grizzly bear trophy hunt that will see somewhere around 300-400 grizzlies killed, unless cancelled, will add another black eye to the already bruised reputation of a province that proudly displays on many a license plate ‘The most beautiful place on Earth’.

Words can be as pompous as we want them to be, yet the provincial government has been on a course to undermine the very thing we are so proud of by allowing animals to be killed for fun or in a shortsighted strategy to protect other species; it allows for parks and pristine areas to be mined and pipeline-invaded while the reality of climate change presses for renewable resources and conservation strategies that should see next generations able to enjoy the same beautiful places we still have around us.

As it turns out, at least 90 per cent of British Columbians oppose the trophy hunt, yet their voices are undemocratically ignored. Many conservationists agree that shooting with the camera and leaving the place as you found it is the way to go. Even that, with care, and with the understanding that we do not own the rights to do as we please but are here to learn how to live and let live.

The magpies – considered by some nothing more than pests – fly in and out of the hedge as I write this. One perches on the tree while the other crosses the street in low flight and returns with a twig of considerable length. There is nothing that makes me think of greediness. The bird makes frequent stops and I cannot help but be charmed by his determination (according to my book that would be the male, and yes, magpies mate for life) to build a good nest for his babies.

Again and again, that makes me think… if only we could stop long enough to observe and learn, if we could add enough thoughtfulness to our actions, that might just give our life and that of our children’s a measure of what we’re truly capable of. Because truth is, we are a brilliant species, yet that should serve to humble us and enable us to raise to such expectations in earnest, rather than entitle us to act as if we’re here to own a place that will, nevertheless, have the last word.

Bills And Morning Runs – Connecting The Dots

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On March 14, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Self-improvement, Social issues

Originally published as a column in the AM News on March 13, 2015. 

It is 11am and I am out for a run. I get to see far over the grasslands yet my eyes do not make it that far. A river of yellow air sitting on top of the downtown like a lazy impudent snake divides my running grounds from the distant grasslands. It is almost mid-March and there are already rumours of fire bans throughout the Thompson-Okanagan.

These days, bill C-51 is being discussed in Parliament. The two instances of life seem unconnected and yet the connection is as straightforward as it is eerie. Should this bill pass, we will see Canada equipped with a fresh organization capable of grabbing potential terrorists by the throat and stopping them mid-action.

Kind of a police force but with a different name and on steroids, since it will give 17 government agencies (14 of which are not subject to dedicated independent review) that oversee national security access to all information pertaining citizens like me and you. In other words, pray for mercy if you’re it, because this is one mean game of tag.

Privacy Commissioner Daniel Therrien (who was blocked from the committee witness list) points to this and more, adding his name to the the 100 plus academics’ who are urging the government to reconsider the terms of this anti-terrorism legislation that is presented as a tool against those who threaten our national security, but has the power to analyze our every bit of data, personal and otherwise.

Which, we are told, is a good thing, because it ensures our safety. If you get past the part where you have to define who the ‘us’ is and who will be cast as the ‘bad guys’.

Could the people who stand for their right to speak and act in the interest of democracy and other civil liberties that we proudly display to the world be labelled as terrorists? That’s one of the fears some of the MPs and independent observers have.

It is sunny and the sky is painted in clouds. It is beautiful, yet the yellow air feels heavy in the distance. I will be heading home soon to work on some articles about the continuous use of bisphenol A and flame retardants despite of their now clearly demonstrated albeit ‘invisible’ to the unaware consumer due to their hidden nature (literally) but also due to the reassurance people get and count on from their government.

Then I will be tackling the dilemma of trains versus pipelines. Just last weekend another train transporting crude oil derailed in northern Ontario, and that is just two weeks after another train derailment causing an oil spill in a close-by area. A bitumen spill in Alberta in the Peace River country makes one stop before saying … ‘so pipelines are safer.’ They are not. Nor are trains. Everything that we do involves risks and consequences.

The dilemma train vs. pipeline has been on the lips of many a citizens lately. Those who keep their minds open and are able to see that our world is undergoing some pains we may not be ready to deal with (on a local scale, imagine a long summer of wild fires and dwindling water supplies because other areas need water just as badly for their own fires) ask another question: if there are alternatives, why don’t we use them?

I have been researching the tar sands (and have so much to learn still) and when the news came that environmental groups are under surveillance and more, I had the uncomfortable feeling of reading flagged material. It made me think of the many stories I heard in my birth country about the government surveying people who believe in values that have no dollar sign attached to them

Will writing about this get me in trouble now or later? Will our collective children learn to whisper rather than talk because someone may be listening? Will we turn on each other to keep safe from powers we cannot see but who will be behind corners we turn every day? Am I overreacting? How 1984ish of me.

Democracy is a gift that a country offers to its citizens. It ensures freedom and rights. And freedom is a mighty big word that stands for a concept we need to keep around us like we need air to breathe.

Hence my parallel. The yellow air does not ensure freedom to breathe, unless we choose to close our eyes and see it as such. Unless we choose to be complacent about it. Watching over people to make sure their safety is in place is what we expect our government to do, but we expect them to do it right, in a way that does not impend on our freedom.

Much has been said about that since the latest sad incidents that saw two Canadian soldiers killed. Terrorism, mental health, lack of resources, the list could goes on, but pointing at them without acting to changing is a useless, redundant activity.

There will be threats, unfortunately, even more so in the context of increased world turmoil that transcends country boundaries and sees people enslaved to the wrong beliefs. Even more of a reason to approach a bill such as C-51 with caution and an open mind. And allowing all parties who stand for human rights and democracy to have a say and be listened to.

We cannot allow anyone for any reason to unravel the democratic tapestry our predecessors have fought hard to weave. So we have to strive to know how to prevent that, because knowledge is power. The good, we’re-in-it-together kind of power that allows you the freedom to look at the sky and wonder what can be done if the blue is no longer blue enough.

It’s High Time We Give Our Buying Power A Shake-up

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On February 5, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Learning, Self-improvement, Social issues

Initially published as a column in the AM News on Friday January 30, 2015. 

I had forgotten my reusable bags at home that time and had to choose between plastic and buying another reusable bag. Too much plastic as it is, I thought, so I chose the latter.

After I got home I realized that the reusable one had a plastic insert on the bottom. Right. To keep things steady and prevent the usual crowding of groceries and falling on top of each other. A first world problem indeed. The insert, made from ordinary plastic bearing no recycling sign, defeats the very purpose of it all.

I was misled and felt uncomfortable. No one likes that. More so when the buying of something I believed greener than a mere plastic bag (many of which are recyclable, not that that makes it better) turned out to be the wrong decision. Greenwashing at its best.

Here’s the thing. Ever since we open our eyes to the world of commerce, we are being told that the customer’s wishes are the merchant’s desires. If only that’d be true. Once upon a time it was.

One cannot notice that things have shifted sideways for a while now. The merchant, backed up by crafty marketing gurus designing the offer, present it to the customers and the rest unfolds. The customers, minds ripe with commercials, promises of this if you buy that, expectations, not to mention the ominous ‘buy now, pay later’, well, it’s easy to fall into the trap (it really is one.)

It is truly scary and overwhelming to try to imagine the amount of goods – excluding food – that are being offered in all stores across the North American continent. Add Europe and Asia and Australia to all of that and it get nauseating.

After the buying comes the garbage and if applicable, recycling. Then, we move on to the next spree of things we do not need but buy anyway to fill spaces that cannot be filled that way anyway.

I am not here to deflate any bubbles, though maybe secretly that is the idea. I just cannot wrap my head around why the merchandise one can find in today’s stores often include completely useless items made from questionable or downright toxic materials, many of which are geared towards children (who are learning to equate happiness with being able to buy one more thing.)

At the same time, garbage grows, people complain of unhappiness and busy schedules, working long hours that deliver the means to buy more stuff we do not need, while stealing away any hope of spending time doing what we love and matters. Ultimately, ‘having’ just doesn’t deliver what the flyer promised.

We are, in many ways, at a crossroad. Climate change is more of a subject (and reality) than it has ever been, there are battles over approving and/or regulating products, including foods and chemicals that end up in our homes or around them, and there are debates over pipelines and mines and fracking.

It is enough to give one a headache. In some ways we seem to have lost our way while faced with so many opportunities to get rich (for some), to buy more (for many) and, should guilt or that little thought that says ‘I have enough’ ever come begging for attention, we have entertainment to chase them away.

Yet reality and truth have the annoying habit of showing up in front of us. Not always civilized and ready to spell it out for us, but rather aggressively throwing it in our faces. Pollution is high in many parts of the world, and because of it the health of many suffers, children and the elderly most of all.

The oceans carry more plastic than ever and more is coming, because we buy and throw more plastic, and more pristine land is being sacrificed to grow palm trees, create feedlots and extract natural resources. Hardly respectful towards the blue planet we all hail as unique.

We are at an important crossroad. We need to assert the power to do exactly what we were once told (and many times over since) we can do: have our wishes satisfied by those who are benefiting from our needs.

It is so. With every choice we each make in how we buy or not buy things, in what we buy and what refuse to buy because we think it unethical, toxic, unhealthy or environmentally wrong, we force the big river called consumption steer a bit in a better direction.

We might have to forgo a few things along the way. Simplicity is a beautiful thing. It helps us make time for what matters. It helps fill the spaces that cannot be filled with anything else.

It helps us help the world get cleaner, our kids breathe easier, have fewer chemicals around to absorb and ingest, and it will remind us of some of the reasons we’re here. To make every day count, to make a difference, no matter how small, to leave the world a tad better than we found it; to know, most of all, that is it up to us, to each of us really, to make good things happen.

Children Need To Take It Outside (and Us Too)

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On January 22, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood

(Originally published as a column in the AM News on January 16, 2015) 

The good thing about sleeping in an igloo is that when you get up you’re already dressed for the day. In our case, that helped even more since we slept in and woke up at 8am and school was to start half an hour later. We made it though.

Lunches had been packed the night before, so with simple breakfast and a quick fixing of the igloo morning hair, we were on the go soon after, pondering contently over our sleeping in and under the snow.

My youngest wanted to see that happen two years ago when we built the first igloo in the back yard. Back then, we had hot chocolate one night under the snow magic cupola with candles on and that was good, but not enough. We postponed the sleeping in the igloo until it got too late and the said construction was used for impromptu sledding and one-of-a-kind games. Fun but not enough.

Last year’s winter had too little snow to build an igloo, but that changed radically this year with the arrival of truckloads of snow that fell as we made our way into the new year. The igloo had to happen and it did.

A few days later and still in time before any flurries or, God forbid, rain, we decided to make it happen. So we waddled our way in the way penguins do, on our tummies, wiggling all the way in, and became privy to a night sleep like no other.

Yes, the floor did get a bit icy in the meantime, hence less soft than that of a newly built igloo, but many wool blankets and good sleeping bags helped us through. We had a couple of additional breathing holes – no such thing in the arctic where the outside temperatures are less lenient than here – and with all the snuggling in the world, the four of us drifted off to sleep. Hats on, of course.

Stepping outside of one’s comfort zone is always a journey of discovery. Around the dinner table or during other times too, we often talk about the ways of the past. We read about the way people used to live (some still do) and the contrast with today’s comfortable lifestyle bursting at the seams with needed and less needed, or plain useless amenities is truly shocking.

With the everyday journey through life here and now, we want the boys to be mindful of the world around them not in an entitled way, but in a grateful and awe-inspired one. We want them to see the nature not as a medium they have to conquer, dominate and tame so that they are safe, but as an environment that offers protection and enables life by the sheer design of it, and is worth of respect. Moreover, children should be guided by us adults, in harbouring respect for the past and the people of the old who lived in nature, with nature and with knowing that they cannot ruin it, lest their lives will be ruined as well.

We have nowadays apps telling us how whether we are walking fast enough, whether we are sleeping enough and they guide us through the process of buying and cooking our food. We have books and instructions and workshops for everything, and somehow over the course of many generations, we have learned that being inside the walls and having access to a lot keeps us safe and happy. We have become contained.

Comfortable homes and decent living conditions are a great gift of today’s world- albeit not for everyone on the planet unfortunately. Trouble is, if it is not intertwined with reverence towards the living world that is the ultimate and primordial provider of building blocks that allow us to make it happen, we fall, and our children follow swiftly, into the trap of believing we are the masters of it all.

Connecting with nature in ways that allow for contemplation and awe help us trace our steps back and in turn, we help our children understand which way they should go if they want to make the world last. We have to achieve respect for nature, and no, it is not optional, not if we mean for our children to have a planet to live on. Respect and gratitude for life are big yet easy to ignore concepts.

You do not have to be a dedicated environmentalist to realize that our natural world is out of balance, nor do you have to be a parent to think and worry of what lies ahead for today’s children and for all of us who will still be around for a few good decades.

Simplifying our lifestyle short or long term by taking ourselves out of the comfort cradle we have become so accustomed to, helps us revive concepts and instincts that are not gone but merely asleep. Putting ourselves in situations that deprive us of the usual comfort may just be the catalyst for that. Sleeping in the igloo was not the most comfortable in some ways, but it was a revealing experience in all ways.

With no new year resolutions in place still, and through waking up in the middle of the sleeping outside night with the feel of fresh cold air stuck to my face, I realized that I should just stick to the one resolution I try to make every day and often forget, but get reminded of through something like igloo sleeping: to be grateful for the simple things within reach that I need to survive, and immensely grateful for everything else on top of it.

A Story Of Waste And Inexcusable Indignities

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On December 16, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

Food The article was initially published as a column in the Armchair Mayor News on December 12, 2014. 

Our garden was lush and plentiful this year. We had lettuce since early spring, we had green onion, radishes, kale, chard, and herbs. Later in the summer we had carrots and potatoes and corn. We shared lots with friends and still had enough to freeze.

All that we had was grown on less than half of our backyard, so it was only normal that I kept fantasizing about growing food on the rest of it. If less than half could feed us so well, how about a whole back yard?

The work was hard, no question. Incredibly pleasurable though and rewarding. On any given summer morning I was greeted by an army of grasshoppers guarding the corn, pumpkins, tomatoes and potatoes. Hopping as their nature prescribed, they were a sign that my organic garden was well liked by other critters like butterflies and ladybugs.

The boys helped out as well and they loved eating straight from the garden. They learned a lot too; gratefulness most of all, and the wonder of a seed becoming a full grown plant ready to provide for us.

They learned the value of food and understood why throwing it out uneaten, as waste, is unacceptable. It happens more than we would expect, or admit.

I remember seeing piles of fruit and vegetables discarded on Granville Island in garbage bins, a stark contrast with the perfect produce offered inside where everything looked nothing short of perfect.

I felt slightly uncomfortable thinking that we, the consumers, shape that perfect offer with our buying habits; which, in turn, have been shaped and conditioned by crafty marketing teams over the years.

The fallacy of that way of thinking and acting is that produce is not perfect. In our garden we got to see dwarf veggies, contorted carrots and a misshaped pear here and there. Nature is not perfect. But they were all perfectly edible, no matter the shape.

I remember when I was little and among others, I would go get the fresh eggs every day. I liked seeing them round in the straw nests and I would always inspect them carefully. Some were misshapen and I would ask my dad why. He would shrug, not bothered in the least. It’s how they come out, he would say. It made sense. Nature is not perfect.

Fast forward a few good years; I was at Simon Fraser University having lunch with other grad students and while no meal stood out, this particular one did. One of my friends was ready to eat a peach and seeing a bruise on one side, she said a loud ‘yuck’ and sent the unfortunate fruit straight into the garbage bin.

Many years later, the memory of the plunging peach is still with me. It stopped me from throwing food out every time, and it made me shake my head every time I see hungry people. I tried often to do my part and provide food for the less fortunate, yet thoughts related to food and waste are relentless. How could there be?

There is enough food lying around for no one to go hungry no matter what their budget is like, even if there is no budget at all.

There is too much food going straight into the garbage because of perfection standards that we should no longer entertain; it is insulting towards those who do not have any food, and it is insulting towards nature itself. We cannot give to food banks with one hand and throw away food with the other.

If you have doubts about food waste, just talk to the produce clerks. If the store is small enough you might see the old stuff bagged up for sale at a fraction of the price, a good solution to prevent waste. In big stores though, everything unsightly or old goes into the garbage.

A recent report pointed out that Canadians throw out up to 50 per cent of the food they buy. A few years ago I would rolled my eyes at the numbers, but not anymore. I went to one too many dinner parties or events where the leftovers were discarded and sent straight to the landfill.

With Christmas just around the corner, the thought of food and food waste comes back with a vengeance. How much food will be wasted, how many people will go hungry or eat low quality food that comes from a can rather than fresh, albeit slightly bruised produce that is better nutritionally than anything canned that might or might not come with added chemicals.

There is no simple answer to the food dilemma. Until we all decide that bad food is not the bruised or misshapen fruit, or even the ones that reach the best before date (think perfectly edible stuff like frozen food, dry food or yogurt that go a day or two over the date), we will have inexcusable indignities in food distribution, and we will have mountains of food piled up in landfills instead of people’s plates.

As for the truly bad food, some of it genetically modified, or the one that we insist on growing with loads of toxic pesticides so that we can have it all: lots of it to choose from, available all year round, cheap enough to throw out and tasteless enough to not feel bad about it anyway… well, the old ‘you are what you eat’ should be warning enough.

If less than half of a cultivated back yard can provide enough fresh produce to feed a family of four over the summer and well into the fall, sure people can grow enough food, healthy food that is, to have everyone fed and no bits thrown out unless they go into the compost.

With food becoming more expensive as we go (have you noticed?) it’s impossible not to ask why. Why, when there is enough to feed us all, and if there isn’t enough, then there shouldn’t be any in the garbage.

Letters From The Old House

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On December 9, 2014

In Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories

WhiteFive days ago… It is snowing softly and the river is carrying ice floaties towards Kamloops Lake like a train that never ends. It’s peaceful. On a day like this I’d be thinking cross-country skiing and boys tumbling down slopes full of wild, dry grass dressed in thick fresh snow.

This morning I am secretly rejoicing that the lack-of-toilet pee spots in the front yard by the pee-tree will be covered by fresh snow.

It’ll be a while until the toilet will be fixed it seems. Think it absurd, I do too. Uncertainty is never good, yet when you have to pick after kids just like you do after puppies it becomes personal. Yes, a pun, what better time to throw one out.

We’ve been running to coffee shops for a few days now, and continue to be grateful for every flushing toilet. A miracle of technology. Chuckle if you want to; I know it doesn’t compare to the shuttle that was sent around the world early this morning, but trust me, a running toilet makes things alright.

On the mouse front, there seems to be none left on the premises.

Three days ago… I found the 11th mouse in a milk bottle at the bottom of seldom used cupboard. Mummified; the smell gave it away. Faint enough to mislead, unless you put your face in (nose included) looking for a jar. I did. A tough, cruel death by all means, inflicted by its own curious murine nature.

You may be now wondering about the tenth mouse, since we only had nine at the last blog count. He got caught in one of the traps our kitchen is laced with at the moment (it was a quiet subdued celebration, and a few shudders thinking some may still be around). Which brings us to a second question from you: do any of us ever get caught? Well, I almost did once while sweeping. The noise is enough to make one jump; every time.

As for the mummified mouse, the discovery can take your mind off lacking toilets for a bit. Until the smell clears away to make room for others issues at hand. We’re still showering in the go, ditto for laundry and pray that the toilet will not back up unexpectedly. Talk about the straw that breaks the camel’s back… It’s a tired, old camel, let’s just leave it at that.

We have decided to move. No more views of the river and the trees hemming its shores, projecting slim silhouettes in the water; no more guessing the weather based on the shade of the water or the way clouds arch over mountains, no more nighttime gentle blinking all the way into the distance and for me, no more wondering about a lone soft light in the middle of nowhere near the grasslands… an isolated cottage, who knows. The small mysteries we carry with; the answers are not as important as the mysteries itself – but that is the story of another day.

No crying over spilled milk, or moving in this case. We will still have a view and we will discover its mysteries and beauty. The very bright side of it is, of course, a flushing toilet and no setting off mouse any traps on the way to it in the middle of the night. Clouds and trees can be found anywhere, rainbows too, if only we find the time to look.

An old plumber named Bud came by this afternoon and spent a commendable amount of time in the basement. He surfaced with a long face. He left, like many before him, disillusioned, and we almost felt like consoling him. I also admit to feeling slightly envious thinking Bud will go home to a flushing toilet, shower and laundry. We did too, except that they all belonged to friends. Gratefulness reinvented.

One day ago…  A fresh team of plumbers paid us a visit. They came hopeful, they left disillusioned. Again. I knew that would happen. They tried and tried, they brought machines and cameras and skills. They took them with when they left, handing over an invoice and the farewell we have become accustomed to – ‘we are so sorry’. We are too, possibly seasoned by many days of dashing for toilets and making fun of the absurdity of it all, which makes people feel even sorrier for us. The silver lining? Knowing half the plumbers in town. Just ask.

Mice count is still at 11; traps are still set.

Today. After perusing over a few unreliable models, we have capture: A nice portable toilet is parked by the side of the house, welcoming weary inhabitants in its plastic arms. The boys find it funny, we all find it useful and, I am sure, the neighbours find it intriguing.

We are learning the meaning of those simple things we cannot do without, or we could, but with added effort. Like toilets.

We will start packing soon for our impending move and that will be good, as long as no mice jump in the boxes. They are amazing athletes; but you already knew that.

 ***

TodayToday was a balmy day in Kamloops, so unexpectedly balmy at almost two digits over zero that toilet and jumpy rodents worries faded away to make room for the uncomfortable question: is this because of climate change? If not, it may just be an occasional and fascinating Chinook; yet if it is due to climate change… no amount of plumbing can fix that…

I am hoping it’s the Chinook and the cold will return.

Rain draped over faraway hills and it dripped onto our front steps, and muck prevailed. There was a short-lived rainbow arched over the north shore and I was reminded of simple beauty. Of the world that we have and we have to hold onto. Of how short-lived everything is, worries and all, and how, at the end of the day, toilet or not, is what you make of it.

There will always be a bigger worry casting shadows over today, it’s part of the package. Often times we look back and we say ‘Give me mice and plugged drain pipes over this, any day…’ because we are, every now and then, humbled by the weight of life, by the way it takes bites out of us. It always does, and that’s what make it worthwhile; learning to cope, learning to hope, learning to say ‘It will be OK, it has to…’

At the end of the day, it’s what you make of it. It really is…

Speaking For The Trees And More Is No Longer A Trend But A Necessity

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On September 17, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories, Social issues

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday September 12, 2014.

It took almost two weeks for the trees across the street to be cut and sliced. There were four of them, all old and showing it in impressive girth, some guilty of a modern-day crime: having grown too close to the power lines.

Many early mornings of loud electric sawing later, the power line pole stands by itself, clear of potential danger. It had to be done, the team on site said. Two trees got too close, and the other two… well, it was decided that taking them down could prevent future problems.

Without pulling any Lorax tricks and jumping out of a stump to speak for the trees, I shook my head and wondered if maybe maintenance of a live tree would not be worth more than cutting it. After all, many a tree come down for various reasons, and some of the reasons support wants but not needs. A quick look at the increasing amount of flyers in our mail box in the last two weeks confirms it.

Throwing them and other bits of paper in the recycling bin offers little if any consolation. Trees came down for me to know that I can get pumpkin spice latte for only $3 during the month of October, or two pizzas for the price of one plus an oversized cookie.

I grew up in a yard that abounded with trees. We had a big pear tree that gave us pears and lots of leaves to clean each fall, a walnut tree that provided walnuts, great climbing and a slight amount of leafy grief to our neigbour’s gutters once it grew too big, many apple and plum trees, and a peach tree that was worth its weight in gold.

The gutter issue was solved by sawing off the rambunctious walnut branches and the tree lives to this day.

I remember my dad’s joy when planting yet another fruit tree somewhere around the yard or on the boulevard. I remember the day he showed me a fragile baby walnut tree in the back yard, proud of having saved it and talking about how it’ll grow into a beautiful one. It did. Many years later the fragile beginnings have been replaced by an impressive crown. My beloved dog was buried under it, my dad thought it that way…

One of the most powerful revelations I had as a kid was when I realized the depth of a simple, vital truth: trees provide oxygen for us to breathe. To live. Many strolls through beautiful forests of various kind later, the wonder of that astounding truth is humbling, more so because I know that we have the tools to terminate a 300-year-old tree but also countless, strong reasons to keep it alive.

Conservation of existing forests and wise decisions in logging should align with that. We need our forests more than ever before, given the increased pollution levels and the ever-growing threat of climate change.

A recent report published on September 4 by Global Forest Watch revealed that 8 percent of the world’s remaining pristine forests have been lost since 2000. Canada leads the way, deforestation-wise, the same report points out.

Tree planters may argue that they have been replanting ad nauseam, a welcome enterprise for sure. Yet it is worth remembering that old growth forests are not easily replaceable if at all. New trees simply cannot do the same as the trees of an old virgin forest that has developed a unique ecosystem over many thousands of years.

It is hard not to ask ‘Why?’ and ‘Why us again?’ in the context of many questionable environmental practices that have put our reputation at risk lately. Natural resources are to be exploited on a need-to basis and only after careful consideration, yet reality reveals the opposite.

This year saw the fisheries science libraries being dismantled, many scientists lost their jobs and many revealed a level of censorship defined as ‘muzzling’, which should never be allowed in a democratic society and in a country that has incredible natural resources that should be guarded in a way that befits their worth.

We hear of increased rates of cancer in areas where natural resources exploitation is at an all-time high yet governmental scientists deny it; we hear of tailings pond spillage that independent scientists classify as natural disasters given the way they affect human health and the environment, yet governmental organizations tell us there is no big danger; we hear of high levels of deforestation from international organizations but not from our own leaders, so it’s only natural to scratch our heads and ask who is right, where does the truth lie and whether our democratically voted leaders are truly watching over us and our country the way they should.

The levels of political interference that prevents truth from being revealed by independent scientists here in Canada should be worrying enough for everyone. Our land carries much wealth inside and out, and harvesting it without a conscience can lead to consequences that will haunt us and many generations to come.

Every tree we look at should become a reminder of the great wealth we were entrusted with by past and future generations alike. It is only natural that we make our voices loud enough and our intentions clear enough to save what can be saved and use only what we need. There is enough science to back us up, starting from the roots up.

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