An environmental judgement looms, a certainty born of our own doing. A century or so worth of choices, each a small injury to the land, now amassing into a wound that probably won’t heal.
I have walked the stages of grief. Denial, bargaining, anger - all transient visitors, lingering only briefly. Now, a fragile acceptance settles.
Still, I will do what I can. A small part, perhaps, but one I owe to nature for her gifts. Her resilience humbles me, for even in the face of our relentless onslaught, she persists.
The future is unclear, but I will tend to my space. Perhaps my actions can help mend a fragment of what we have harmed.