seiberwing | (no subject)

Current Mood: Sniffly

Entry tags:

angst,
faily

(no subject)

The worms crawl in
The worms crawl out
The worms play pinochle
On your snout.

I was in the arboretum back home with my mom on Monday and coming back to the car I notice something was missing, in that odd way that you know that something isn't right but have no clue what.

After searching for a bit, I noticed one of the pear trees was cut down. My pear tree. The one with a plaque saying it was planted just a few days after my birthday, the one that I used to hug every time I went to the arboretum. I stared at the stump for a few seconds, then sat down on it and cried.

I know it was diseased and probably needed taking down before it infected anything else, but still...it was my tree. It just doesn't seem fair that the tree should die before I did.

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Did that to the patch of bushes near the church where I used to go for blackberries. Half of it's dirt-covered parking lot fodder, plus the little marshy bit with the cattails.

God, I hate construction.

I hate it, too, but on the other hand I love books and paper, so I spend a lot of tiem feeling guilty.

Yay paperless internets.

YAY. IT IS PRETTY WITH THE LACK OF PAPERDOESCOFFEEWEAROFFATSOMEPOINTTHINKIMGLADIWASNTDRINKINGINSTEAD...

Oh my. *hides*

Don't. Pulp wood, the stuff that's used for paper, is farmed. They have huge tree farms (aka "pine plantations") down in the south where they grow slash pine for papermaking. It's a fast growing tree--I think about 10-15 years to harvest.

So, they're not chopping down old-growth wild forest for you to have paper. They're harvesting a field that they planted a few years back.

Oh. Well, what did they to my forest then? Firewood?

It was about a hundred years old and grew up over an old logging rail. You could still see rusted old ironworks sticking out in places.

Lumber, probably.

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