Stewards of the land

Long ago, in the Before Times, when the developers of the corporate campus behind my house were still trying to get planning permission to turn five acres of parkland into 82 four-story townhouses, I had an email exchange with a lawyer fronting the project about many of the scores of mature trees they’d destroy.

He assured me that “the canopy will not be affected,” which meant that they’d rip out/cut down all the trees they could and eventually plant an approximately equivalent number of saplings. For dealing with county agencies, that amounts to “the canopy won’t be affected”.

Well, they’ve got eight units completed of their 82, with framing done on another five or six. All the parkland has literally been paved and plumbed for the remaining units, and they’re working on the landscaping. Two months ago I wrote about their allée of hollies that look fine now, but will never again bear berries unless they stick a male plant in the vicinity.

And as I was making a tour on Sunday morning (the only day of the week they don’t have crews out violating the start times), I noticed that three shrubs right next to the model unit do not have long for this world.

Wonder how long it’ll take them to replace them?

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: movement restored

My gratitude for today is, in the global scheme of things, miniscule. But for me, it’s big. I’m grateful that my sacroiliac joint is almost back to normal.

Can’t recall if I wrote about it when the issue first arose—about two years ago. It was agonizing and required weeks of PT to beat it back. (Let me just say: you may not realize it, but just about every movement you make makes a transit point past the SI joint. If all the muscles are fine, you don’t notice it. If not, you do. You really do.)

So, of course, when I got back to normal, I stopped doing the exercises. A few months ago, it flared up somewhat, but I dragged out the PT and it subsided.

Then, during the Big Freeze in January, I slipped on ice; I landed on my left hip (which was the problematic one), but clearly knocked something awry in my right. I tried walking it out, to no avail, so back with the exercises. It receded, but then kicked back in, right around the time I was helping with the monthly food pantry at a local church. (For that, I bag produce on the Wednesday and on Thursday push carts for my neighbors who collect food at the church.) I observed A Pattern: on the Friday after the pantry, big flare up; impacts everything, including yoga.

Like I said—everything you do passes across your SI joint.

But this past week, after steadfastly doing my exercises, I’ve finally corralled the pain to mild discomfort, so that about a half-mile into my morning walk, I don’t notice the muscles complaining. I also pinpointed the triggering event: bagging sweet potatoes, onions and cabbage last Wednesday, I realized that the bag was heavy enough to feel in my butt. (Those heads of cabbage can weigh upwards of 10 lbs alone.) It’s not the cart pushing, it’s the produce schlepping. I can continue helping with food distribution, but I’ll back off the bagging.

This is a lot of verbiage to get to the point: being cognizant that at a certain age we cannot assume full functionality in our musculoskeletal system, I am grateful that I am still able to command mobility and that my muscles are responding to proper exercise. I suppose I have to be more aware of what I’m doing, which is kind of a bummer, but given the alternatives, I give thanks for what I have.

Also—the magnolia trees are awakening.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu