A Deep Breath of Cold Air

The other day the thermometer stayed below freezing for the first time this season.  The wind was light, the soil surface frozen, but with a couple layers of clothing, staying warm was a piece of cake.  There’s something about cold air hitting warm lungs that invigorates and motivates like a slap in the face.  It just doesn’t happen at 70 degrees.  

I love the short days of winter, the mornings when darkness drags on, the wood stove comes to life, and the coffee is steeped to perfection. I am retired, so most days are filled as I see fit, which is profoundly satisfying. No one, having worked to support themselves and the economy for forty or fifty years, should be denied the privilege. But it’s a challenge some days to not be distracted by news that may or may not be true, to keep the turmoil of the world at bay, to remain flexible to interruptions.  

Not all interruptions are bad. Yesterday we received an early morning call from county dispatch giving the location of a freshly killed deer, ours for the taking. The highway was busy with traffic, people hurrying, headlights glaring.  I don’t miss the hustle, the deadlines, the unexpected obstacles that disrupt the day’s carefully choreographed routine.   We pulled up behind the deputy's car with its blinding red and blue strobe lights, loaded the yearling buck, and made a quick retreat to the quiet of home base. 

For the first time, we field dressed a deer aware that it might be infected with Covid. A recent study found a percentage of wild deer to be asymptomatic carriers of the virus. Whether or not it can jump from deer to man is unknown, but we now know the virus has found another host where it is free to mutate and do what viruses do, adding to the likelihood we’ll be living with coronavirus for the foreseeable future.  Meanwhile, one of our state’s hospitals has called on the national guard because beds are full and more are needed to treat those with Covid, 95-99 percent of whom are unvaccinated. 

We recently bought a lightly used two burner induction stovetop. It sits atop our 1920’s era gas range, looking as much out of place as a cell phone in the hands of Tecumseh.  Induction technology is impressive.  It uses electromagnetic waves to turn pots and pans into heating elements with a high level of efficiency and temperature control.  The valve to the old range is turned off, the fracked gas rests in the pipe, carbon intact, the power to the new cooktop comes from the sun via solar panels. It feels right. 

There is so much happening that feels right— solar and wind farms springing up everywhere, regenerative practices making their way into modern agriculture, near-daily advances in battery and energy technologies, innovative approaches to tracking and pricing carbon— all supported by grassroot movements comprised largely of youth who have the audacity to demand a cleaner, sustainable, and more just world for themselves and generations that follow. 

Every corner of the planet has been contaminated to some degree by our activities.  The ecological services we depend on for survival are breaking down.  What we see and define as wilderness is an amended version of what once was. Our measure of abundance, be it fish or fowl or biodiversity, is in many cases a shadow of what existed mere decades ago.  In reality, some things are gone for good, and the best we can do is establish new benchmarks and hope to hold onto what’s left. 

That will be a challenge if our population continues to grow, if we prolong our use of carbon fuels, increase our use of petroleum based plastics, continue to support unsustainable practices.  It will be a challenge when both old and new technologies lack the capability of being fully recyclable, when too much of the world questions science, when we’re faced with increasingly frequent disruptions that stem from melting ice caps and weather related disasters.

I thought I might write an essay that made no more than a casual reference to climate change, that a mention of biodiversity loss and the need for clean energy technologies would be enough. But then I heard about a new film entitled “Don’t Look Up”, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence, and Meryl Streep.  It’s a satirical comedy about an approaching comet destined to destroy Earth, and a dysfunctional media and government that refuses to take it seriously.  It’s a surrogate for climate change treated as something less than an existential threat.  From a human survival standpoint, there may be little difference between four degrees warming and a direct meteor strike. The need to act with urgency, in either case, is the same.

So let’s say there’s a comet heading for earth and a direct hit is assured. What are the odds we’d be hesitant to respond out of fear we might cause a blip in the economy or shake up Wall Street?  What if we found there was something each of us could do that would somehow shift the comet’s trajectory?  What if the threat could be reduced if we just had a greater awareness and willingness to accept a few lifestyle changes and some modifications to our diets; if all we really needed was a commitment to start living with an uncompromising respect for our place in a world where everything’s connected and resources are limited? Would we have a unified front?

Greenhouse gas emissions continue to rise, the work that has been accomplished isn’t enough, the comet’s course has not been altered. We need action, measurable and significant, to keep hope alive. 

We need a good slap in the face like we get when cold air hits warm lungs.  We can start right now.  Are you ready?  On three: one, two,...