Dear Mother Nature,

I don’t know if anyone has ever written you a letter. I think its about time that we all did. Problem is, most simply see you as an abstract concept. Me, I know you exist. And I think you are both pissed and frustrated because we humans are fucking up this planet big time.

I’m writing in order to let you know that I feel bad about the angst we are causing you. It’s a moot point that we are suffering the consequences. But, as many of us realize, we deserve what we’re getting, which is to see our planet’s final days.

This tree behind the house lost its top

Up until mid-October, I believed that those of us who live in southcentral Alaska had lucked out. This is because we weren’t having to deal with super high temperatures, forest fires, tornados, hurricanes, or the like. We did have to deal with an earthquake a few years back. This was our own special warning.

Now, so far this winter. We first had extremely cold temperatures. Then it snowed some. Then we had mild temperatures and consequently had to deal with rain and ice.

Now there is this. High winds here. I feel as though you decided to unleash your fury. In the past, we’ve had cold temperatures or high winds. But never, like now, both. This is unusual. And, as you most likely intended it to be, this is scary. I am not surprised. Wake up calls ARE scary.

I worry most about my animals. Our cabin is up on a hill, so we are getting the brunt of the storm. And the goats and chickens reside in a shed adjacent to the house, so they are also suffering considerable discomfort. Little Sassy keeps throwing herself at her pen door. And Swampy is, for all intense practical purposes, now going dry. I did put goat coats on Ranger and Swampy – I think this made them feel better.

The horses are doing just fine because they are downhill where the wind isn’t so strong. Tinni is blanketed, and he has a three-sided shelter, so he is doing okay.

Inside, today, the house trembled as the wind gusted up to 80 m.p.h. And I sat on the stairs adjacent to the kitchen window and watched as the birch trees that line the driveway bent nearly to the ground.

The trembling is one thing. The sound of the wind is another. It’s a dull roar.

This could be your way of telling those of us who have not been listening to you to listen up. Yes, we need to take better care of our planet. And I suspect people like me need to be proactive and do more than just preach to the choir.

I could say that I’m doing my part, by keeping books from ending up in the landfill. But as I know, and you know, this is not enough. I need to do more. But what? I’m not at this point quite sure.

As my mother said, “shit or get off the pot,” meaning stop acting like a witness and do something. I will do more this year. I promise.

Here’s to a better year for you too

Alys

Next: 3. 1/3/22: A Sideways Glance