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To me, the other three
seasons exist merely to increase my anticipation of summertime. Long days at the beach,
swimming in cool waters under a shining sky, the wafting of delicate scents coming from
long-stemmed picture-perfect blooms on green, green lawns, the haphazard abandon of kids
free from the strictures of school chasing each other with watering hoses, a lifetime of
barefoot walking, and grilling everything on a potbellied grill in the backyard on our
uneven brick patio --- is there anything better than summer?
Summer always brings with it a renewed interest in nature, at least for me. I am a human
animal and, during the summer months, I exist in the same landscape as the rest of the
animals, out-of-doors. Heavily laden in sunscreen to prevent perhaps unpreventable
cancers, a hat on my baby's head to protect her delicate noggin from the effects of the
frighteningly depleted ozone, I watch the rabbits and chipmunks and birds of many feathers
use my yard as a refuge. And yet I know that we are all part of a system that, at least I
am told by those who profess to know more than I do about such things, is on the brink of
disaster.
Reading Jamaica Kinkaid's MY GARDEN (BOOK), a
collection of essays about her obsessive love of gardens, her own and other people's, I
make a note to weed my overgrown but friendly gardens --- the overflowing mint, the blowzy
Siberian irises, the tall stalks of something that could be a weed but is so strong I have
to dig and dig to get it out. She inspires me to take better care of the beauty I have
been able to foster on my small patch of land. I figure I am giving back a little bit to
make up for what I may take from the world.
Julia Butterfly Hill spent two years living in a tree. Her THE LEGACY OF LUNA reminds me to make sure that I
keep up my Sierra Club membership, that I write those letters to (our scary) President
Bush, who seems to think that the National Park system exists only to make his fatheaded
oil baron friends richer. There is something so poignant and gentle in Hill's complete
dedication to saving trees that puts my attempts at activism to total shame --- again,
there is so much to do if you want to give back for what you have taken from nature.
When I was a child, Jane Goodall seemed like Mother Theresa in explorer's clothes. Her BEYOND INNOCENCE is a collection of letters that
helps put her work and life into a new perspective, a searingly daring and yet very simple
one, again with a dedication that puts most dedicated processes to shame. Most of us don't
live with apes and yet we came from them --- and maintaining their existence is part of
the ever increasingly difficult balancing act that is an environmentalist's work. If I
want to give back to the world-at-large what joy I have taken from it, Goodall has got me
completely and utterly beat in that department. There is no one like her, and for that we
should all be thankful --- like firemen, she does an important job that most of us would
not wish on our dearest enemy.
Susanne Antonetta loves the ocean, but her book BODY
TOXIC does not reflect the same joys and wonderful benefits of the sea air that that
landscape offers to me. Her family ensconced on a tiny plot of sea soil on the New Jersey
shore, Antonetta spent lots of happy summers hanging outdoors, playing children's games
with her cousins and friends. However, as many members of her family come down with evil
strains of cancer and other life-threatening diseases, she discovers that it is this
serene landscape that is eking their lives out of them. BODY TOXIC is a cautionary tale
about what the ravages of hazardous dumping and the environment it destroys can do to
human beings.
Summer and the environment go hand in hand and so do these books about the joys, pitfalls,
and responsibilities that those of us who enjoy it should be mindful of while we have our
play. We are part of the balance --- but when we are careless, we are part of the problem,
too.
--- by Jana Siciliano
(c)
Copyright 2001, Bookreporter.com. All rights reserved.
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