I wasn’t going to write here today because I have been writing on and off all day, finishing a piece-for-hire and laboring in the fields of my next book.
But I went to my friend Hecate’s blog and thought I had a little wit left in me. Hers is, as always, beautifully written.
I sat at my altar tonight, too, and thought of the heat that is predicted for my little corner of these old hills. We had such an early and productive spring, there could be no doubt that summer would be fierce and lingering. Even as the flats of Florida flood and gatorize and the peaks of Colorado burst into easy flame, I am plotting to water the garden with saved rain and to add mulch where it is needed. The garden is too lush and so near real productivity now–it seems unfair not to give it a fighting chance.
But what sort of chance is there for a land–this land, our land, the Motherland–when our leaders seem to care not a fig for it. It is to be owned and re-sold at a profit. It is to be paved and leveled. It is to be fractured by the fiercest of waters, laden with toxins we can only guess.
I think those of us who love it, who love Her, must work even harder, must be more diligent, must write more and speak more and love more.
Because our “leaders” are bent on destruction and slaughter, on devastation and waste. They have no vision and no desire to develop any. They are the worst of us and they have authority over us. Here in NC, our Governor is considering a bill to begin fracking for natural gas. And even if she rejects it, the “leaders” in Raleigh have the money and power to do what they will. In our name.
In our name.
I think of the fires and the water, the broken crust of the only planet we have. There are not curses strong enough, nor hexes wild enough to bring justice.