From The Big Picture

 

As I wait to speak to the clerk at the hardware store about wood filler, I listen in on a conversation he’s having with the chap ahead of me about ants and I remember the winter we had our own infestation.

They came in from a crack near the fireplace and mostly just wandered around the family room, watched some TV with us; it wasn’t a problem until we went away for a few days and the guy that took care of our cats left their food out all day. Suddenly the ants knew where the kitchen was. I wasn’t as blasé about this because—despite my fondness for all creatures and the belief we’ve got to share the planet and it’s not just ours ours ours—it really is quite disgusting to see dozens of ants crawling over some little tidbit on the floor.

Then it occurred to me that it’s equally disgusting to have tidbits on the floor.

I was blaming (and, to be completely honest, squashing) ants for the crime of eating the buffet I’d more or less put out for them. They must have wondered about me. In their world one is encouraged to consume debris, turn it into compost. Imagine their surprise at being attacked while performing the most natural of acts.

I suppose they might have put my actions down to something sensible like a madness brought about by hunger; maybe they even forgave me.

What I’m pretty sure of is that the truth never occurred to them—that humans are simply messy and lazy and don’t vacuum regularly, and that we expect ants to be broad-minded and flexible enough to change their DNA to include an innate understanding that once we erect walls, secure doors and shut windows, the message is: Keep Out.

I want to tell the chap ahead of me that cinnamon sprinkled near the entry point will stop them but it’s too late. The conversation has turned to mice.

____________________________

“These new ants have got into his brain, and he has come back to England
with the idea, as he says, of “exciting people” about them “before it is
too late.” He says they threaten British Guiana, which cannot be much over
a trifle of a thousand miles from their present sphere of activity, and
that the Colonial Office ought to get to work upon them at once. He
declaims with great passion: “These are intelligent ants. Just think what
that means!””

(From—The Empire of the Ants, by HG Wells)

The good news is the leeks I didn’t dig up before the freeze have turned out to be just what our resident garden rabbit was looking for.

Strolling about the estate yesterday morning I was thrilled to find almost all of them ‘topped’. As soon as the ground warms up a bit (today??) I’ll dig out the roots and make soup as promised.

So there I was feeling all warm and happy about how nature has this brilliant way of not calling anything a mistake—

—and then I went into Toronto and found that ALL the trees, on both sides of  Bloor between (at least Avenue Road and Bay) were being cut down.

They were just young trees with trunks maybe four, five inches in diameter.

I asked one of the guys doing the cutting: Why? and was told that it’s not natural for trees to grow in an urban setting and they were going to die and it was cheaper to replace them than keep them healthy. 

Yeah, well, whoever made that brainwave decision will presumabley also die one day. I wonder if it’s occurred to him/her  that it may well be cheaper to replace him/her than keep him/her healthy…

But that’s not really the answer, is it?

Furthermore, I wondered: every tree between Avenue Road and Bay was in imminent danger of death?? 

Odd.

Over in Yorkville I noticed that none of the trees are being cut down. In fact they’re decked out with lights.  In fact… they’re big and beautiful and happy, thriving in their ‘unnatural’ urban setting.

Something’s not right here. Trees can live in an urban environment. They do live in urban environments. So why—really—were the trees on Bloor cut down? The guy said they hadn’t been planted deeply enough in the first place. Egad. Does anyone do any research? Any planning? There are books to read for pity’s sake…

I’m thinking an intervention may be necessary, that I should send a letter before a decision is made to spend more money planting new trees that will only have to be cut down. I could begin with something like this: Dear Him/Her, Whatever was done in Yorkville seemed to work; make a note. Additionally, you might ask family and friends to give you books on the subject of trees this holiday season. In fact, you might even have a gander at one or two of them; if the words don’t interest you, at least look at the pictures…

“Reflecting the belief that urban life requires an ‘escape’, city parks have long been designed in imitation of pastoral surroundings. Henry F. Arnold challenges this tired romantic style that disregards the urban environment—and shows how trees can be used to enhance urban elements rather than hide them. He encourages landscape architects and city planners to utilize trees, not as decoration, but as living building materials to create and reinforce urban spaces.” (From: Trees in Urban Design, Second Edition, By Henry F. Arnold)