The outside thermometer reads 45 degrees this morning and the sun shines in a cloudless sky. This after a day of intense thunderstorms. This past Monday I drove into Boston where joggers dressed in running shorts and t-shirts were out in force. The temperature was 70. It would be easy to believe that spring is on the immediate horizon, moments away instead of months.
Apparently I’m not the only one confused about the seasons. As I walked to the beach earlier today, songs birds sang full throttle from perches in marsh reeds, brush and trees. I identified chickadees, cedar waxwings, mourning doves, a flicker and a marsh hawk.
Perhaps New Year’s intentions were still in the air and my consciousness has been raised by Al Gore, but lately I have been deeply aware of the responsibility that comes with stewardship. Both of the planet and of our own bodies. I’ve developed the habit of bringing a bag to pick up litter along my route. And day after day, I've been finding that the great majority of trash consists of crushed cigarette packs and empty bottles - beer, wine and liquor.
In truth, I’ve ingested my own share of poisons. And I’ve certainly treated my surroundings with thoughtless disregard. But today as I stooped to pick up the fourth crumpled cigarette pack, I couldn’t help but make the connection, judging from the contents of my plastic litter bag, that those who pollute their bodies with toxins are the same ones who treat the planet with distain.
No soap box here. Just a morning observation from a woman with a bag full of trash.