This Is The Blergh, and I Speak For the Trees

I live in a small-ish town.  It used to be a small town.  There were a lot of family-owned businesses, the occasional Dunkin' Donuts, and the prized Publix- but beyond that, good ol' Florida scrub and swamp.  But, as the age-old story goes, The Man flattened the scrub and filled the swamp with cement.  Now the small town is a small-ish town.

This week, a corporate business stripped the ample brush off of a street corner.  The land they cleared just happened to be next to a produce shop.  Let me tell you about this produce shop:  It's a down-to-earth, friendly, family-owned store that sells both local and exotic fruits and vegetables.  The people make smoothies from overripe fruit instead of wasting it.  It's open air, so in the summer, you seek the solace of their strategically-placed fans, and on windy days, you can just barely hear the classic rock playing from the stereo.  Anthropomorphic fruits and veggies are painted on the ground (it's a lot less creepy than it sounds).  The walls are decorated with strongly opinionated political statements printed from the internet and handwritten signs indicating the produce.  Once, my mom and I went and bought so many vegetables that they gave us this huge box to carry the goods in.  I've grown up in this place.
But now I'm rambling.

Kale from the little produce place.

Up until last week, the produce store was cozily tucked away in a bed a leafy green nature.  Now the green is flattened.  The earth is overturned, churned from the inside out, pummeled by rusted yellow machinery.

A pine tree- a big, bold, pine tree, almost a century old and home to owls- grows on the shop's property.  It is one of the sole survivors of the industrialization that is ocurring on the street corner, and now the corporate company wants to tear it down too.  The produce shop owner made it clear that the tree is on the shop property, and yet The Man still threatens to destroy its roots, subsequently killing the tree.

Today we got an email from the produce shop owner, asking a favor of us customers: That we email or call the mayor of the town and express our opposition to the killing of an age-old pine tree.  I'm stoked to take part, because a] I was already pretty irked that The Man bulldozed over yet another lush, wild habitat in my hometown, and b] advocating for nature is a welcome change from what I had been doing when the email arrived, which was scrutinizing biographies in order to piece together a school research paper.

The Man wants machine and concrete and things unnatural.  Maybe there's a time and place for that- after all, a laptop isn't exactly a fruit of the earth, yet here I am writing this post and here you are reading it.  And I get that people are in need of jobs and homes and maybe that's the point of this construction.  But a tree is a work of the world, a feat of engineering older than Man could ever know, a structure made for earth.

It's just one tree.  One in trillions.  What would be the harm in eliminating just one tree?

It's just one tree.  One in an ever-shrinking number.  With its death comes the loss of a home for wildlife, a food source for woodpeckers, and nutrients and shade for the ground that it has been rooted in for so long.  Its destruction inhibits the function of all surrounding life.
Let the tree stand.

Thus is my winded, wordy attempt of an environmental protest.
World peace and love,


Like to read my impassioned rambles about the environment?  Read Green. 

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