Another friend has died. Richard Goodwin, 1910 - 2007. Noted environmentalist, botanist and philanthroper. His obituary and picture were published in the New York Times, the LA Times, the Boston Globe and many, many others.



I remember his kindness, his thoughtfulness, his carefully chosen words, his passion and his generosity. For several summers, a friend and I organized an annual poetry reading, where folks just came together and read their favorite poems. Dick was always there, enthusiastically reading, not only some of the classics, but a few of his own poems from years ago.

His book, A Botanist's Window on the Twentieth Century is a jewel and a delight to read.

As is said too infrequently, "they threw away the mold when Dick was born."

Memorial service is this Saturday, July 28th, at All Souls Unitarian Universalist in New London, CT. Some of us in the choir will be singing John Rutter's For the Beauty of the Earth.

The poet, William Meredith, died a couple of days ago in New London.





A Couple of Trees has always been one of my favorite poems.

The two oaks lean apart for light.
They aren't as strong as lone oaks
but in a wind they give each other lee.

Daily since I cleared them I can see
them, tempting to chain saw and ax-
two hard-woods, leaning like that for light.

A hurricane tore through the state one night,
picking up roof and hen-house, boat and dock.
Those two stood; leafless, twigless, giving lee.

Last summer ugly slugs unleafed the trees.
Environmental kids wrote Gypsy Moths Suck.
The V of naked oaks leaned to the light

for a few weeks, then put out slight
second leaves, scar-tissue pale as bracts,
bandaged comrades, lending each other lee.

How perilous in one another's V
our lives are, yoked in this yoke:
two men, leaning apart for light,
but in a wind who give each other lee.

If I were the Dean of Earth, I would make the following short piece required reading for the entire World (and U.S. Americans would be required to read it twice (neo-cons three times)).

Wendell Berry (he of the Siberian Woodsman that I posted earlier) wrote these 27 thoughts shortly after September 11, 2001 and, sadly, they are still very relevant (unfortunately, we, as a society, are not so good at learning the lessons that Life offers to us).

So, stop everything for about five minutes and read this right now (twice if you live in the United States (etc.)).  It just might be the most important thing you'll read ... ever.

When you're done, read it again. Only then, consider sharing your reactions here?

Thoughts in the Presence of Fear by Wendell Berry

If this speaks to you, feel free to pass it on to everyone you know.

To a Siberian Woodsman
(after looking at some pictures in a magazine)

- by Wendell Berry

I.
You lean at ease in your warm house at night after supper,
listening to your daughter play the accordion. You smile
with the pleasure of a man confident in his hands, resting
after a day of long labor in the forest, the cry of the saw
in your head, and the vision of coming home to rest.
Your daughter's face is clear in the joy of hearing
her own music. Her fingers live on the keys
like people familiar with the land they were born in.

You sit at the dinner table late into the night with your son,
tying the bright flies that will lead you along the forest streams.
Over you, as your hands work, is the dream of the still pools. 
            Over you is the dream
of your silence while the east brightens, birds waking close by 
            you in the trees. 

Woke up around 4:30 am and it was zero degrees Fahrenheit outside. Uh, at the risk of seeming very weird, I have to admit here that I have yet to turn on my house furnace (mostly out of protest to the outrageous price of propane of late). A frantic check of various water taps proved that none had yet frozen up. I then did a rapid, stategic placement of the three space heaters that I own in an attempt to keep those pipes from freezing as this cold snap continues. As I sit here now typing, with many layers of long underwear, warm clothing and my L.L. Bean Maine Guide parka (damn! my hands are cold ... and I can only find one of my gloves with the removable fingers), the local thermometer in this room is 37 deg. F.

What a cheapskate fool, right? Well, yeah, but, still, I guess I'm in training for eventually going to live full-time in my old tipi (after I get my kids to torch the house so I can collect the insurance ducats (just a joke, Nate (aka Pyroman), JUST A JOKE! (let me first clean out all the memories that are still left up in the attic, ok? (grin)))).



( and now for the Shakespeare bit )

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.
Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.
But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.

(Robert Frost)

A nice view of my neighbor's garage: