I don't know if the sun had really quite risen, but we were reading T.S. Eliot's The Dry Salvages in the van on the way to plant cordgrass on Bolivar Peninsula.
The place was throttled by Hurricane Ike in 2008 and is still recovering. I wasn't awake, though riding the ferry over, the ocean spray had come up and soaked my back. It was freezing, but Stacey tied one of her backdrop photography cloths around me, and the eight of us walked into the field with heavy gloves and water and shovels and willingness. The diagram went like this: 1. dig a hole 2.fill the hole with water 3. plant the cordgrass 4. water again. Each cluster of plants was marked by a little pink flag, and teams of us spread across the field. Soon we were making up planting songs. Zach lent me a windbreaker, Stacey gave me her sweatshirt, and suddenly I was entirely warm. I took off my gloves and found that the water was warm, the ground was warm. Only the wind was cold. We'd begun to sing. Come on, sweetie, Rhianna was saying to the plants, come on.
I have been thinking a lot about the environment, about what I can do, what's my part in preservation. It's very easy to sign petitions at the White House, to put your voice into the conversation that demands wildlife protection. It's very easy to get a reusable water bottle, a reusable shopping bag. It's very easy to use your bicycle a little more. That's what I can do for now. For now.
Here are some songs by Carter Tanton that you might like.
Happy birthday today to my little brother Bean, and also to my friend Ryan Walsh. I do love a Scorpio, you stubborn darlings.