Swamp The Swamp

            A drained swamp is good for nothing, it’s that simple. Without an influx of refreshing rains, it becomes a quagmire of rot, death, starvation, and dissolution. More specifically, the death of a swamp, by either drought or human intrusion causes increased flooding, which can be disastrous to coastal communities already in danger of rising sea levels, erosion, and a loss of biodiversity—that is: toads, shrews, moles, salamanders, skunks, frogs, and bugs, bugs, bugs, along with all the beautiful birds and amphibians that rely on them for a hearty meal. We are now getting the rains that have been too long coming and it is good. This alder swamp on the coast of Downeast Maine, abutting Mowry Beach is full to the brim and running over in delight. This is a gift that sometimes goes unnoticed as we whine about the leaks in our roofs, our soggy shoes, and the mud—everywhere the mud.

            In addition to replenishing the swamps and groundwater, this influx of much needed precipitation prior to the deep freeze of winter is critical to the survival of plant life, especially newly planted trees and evergreens which lose water all year long through their foliage and can only absorb water through the unfrozen ground which might be more the a foot or two below the surface, depending on the severity of the winter. A deep snowfall has traditionally kept the ground from freezing too deeply, but we have not been getting much snow in our winters of late. Nor are they as cold, so perhaps there is a zero-sum trade-off due to climate warming. Personally, rather than a series of alternating severe weather and long, dry doldrums, I would opt for a cold, snowy winter, a rainy spring, sweet summer, and beautiful, fall with a bountiful harvest. Think: clean air, clear water. Do: clean air, clear water. Maybe we’ll get back to that four-season cycle and shed the seven months of March like we had last year when we were still getting cold rain in January.      

            But however, we get there, rain after a long drought is a glorious gift and ought to be acknowledged as such. There is the critical re-oxygenation of stagnant ponds and lakes as they have sweltered and lost much of their waters to evaporation and run-off without replenishment over the month's long drought. The fish can breathe again and the rivers and once dry creeks rise and become navigable for all the little fishes who have somewhere they’d rather be, such as our young native salmon and alewives who migrate into the deep blue-water seas come fall and winter. Bye Bye young fish!! May your journey be a wonder and we await your return as fine healthy adults with bated breath and baited hooks…Not you salmon fry and smolts. You must first concentrate on rebuilding your stock before we come after you again. Good Luck and we will try to keep your home water clear of the toxic wastes produced by genetically modified interlopers swimming in tragic circles in commercial salmon pens that currently foul the sweet waters of your birth. May God Bless.

            Because of the climate warming engendering radical shifts in our weather patterns, it has become increasingly difficult to plan for upcoming threats and impacts to our environment. The fresh floods of rain also wash pollutants and toxic waste into our waterways with the first flush. The best thing we can do in that regard is limit our use of harmful pollutants on our lawns, gardens (see “organic and sustainable gardening”) and streets. However, all reason dictates that we prepare for a rapidly changing climate which in turn means altering our methods of farming, gardening, water usage, waste removal, and the method by which we either heat, cool, or otherwise make our homes and businesses habitable and comfortable during these shifts in weather and temperature. There is a lot to be done, a lot which can be done, and a lot of ways in which each one of us can help to mitigate the level of damage imposed on our environment every single day.

            But I talk too much. I will be pausing this small series of eco-notes for the APPLE outfit today as I prepare for and snuggle into my small homestead like a toad in their tidy winter hibernaculum.  See you when the sun shines next on the happy heads of rising crocuses (croci?) ...

            Sincerely, Chuck Kniffen