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Jesse H. Jones Park & Nature Center, Humble, Texas 0424090908BW

 

I successfully resisted doing this when I posted this photo, am caving in to pressure from myself, against my better advice, and adding this:

 

The park is nearby, and I take morning walks there. It is a wonderful refuge at the very edge of sprawl, in the middle of it if one takes a broader view.

 

Today, though, I was thinking even more than usual about the sense of Loss that I'm aware of at times, in even the wildest places.

 

I'm 59, grew up in this area, have spent a lot of time in the woods and near the water.

 

I paused in a patch of clover today, a patch that, not that many years ago, would have been alive with bees. I saw one, a few others at other places along my walk. The clover patch was silent.

 

Yes, when the redbud bloomed ( www.flickr.com/photos/nakrnsm/3293720142/ ), there were a few days when one could see a dozen or so at a tree, far too few of them honeybees, but the reduction in numbers is all too evident.

 

There were a few frog voices accompanying me as I walked, but hardly the chorus that there once was. It used to be that, if one passed a pond, there would be so many splashes and croaks and chirps that one could barely distinguish them.

 

If a porch light was left on at night, toads would always be about to eat the insects attracted to it.

 

When I happened upon that little chorus frog ( www.flickr.com/photos/nakrnsm/3467066138/ ) the other day, I was really surprised, and pleasantly so.

 

I am blessed, with friends and loved ones and health and skills and opportunities.

 

The Loss that I feel isn't just for me. It is for all of us, and I do worry.

 

 

 

 

Done