We all have missions in life. I’m a man on a mission to kill all the invasive buckthorn in our yard. That mission evolved the past few years, and now encompasses a corollary mission to diversify our woods as the changing climate attacks some of our trees in southeast Wisconsin.
It wasn’t until the past few weeks where I really added up all the bug, rot, mold, insect infestations and other issues affecting our trees, and tie it together into a grander picture. I have a close friend who lives in Marquette, MI, and he mentioned the band of earth where we live as a hot spot for where trees and other greenery, along with creatures as being affected more intimately by the ups and downs of heat and cold, flooding and drought.
You may think of those issues or not – the peaks and valleys of weather and how that changes the landscape in your area. Maybe you notice a few bushes dying in front of your house and are unsure why that’s happening.
We have some clear indicators of distress (mold killing many of the area’s oak trees and an infestation taking out river birches we’ve planted in the past five years). Slowly over the past few years, my wife and I (she took an early and big lead in terms of getting us moving in a direction to sustain our part of the earth and refurbish it in a way that puts in place plants, trees and shrubs that should thrive in this area as our 21st century unfolds) attacked some of the bad guys (buckthorn) and planted some good guys (maple and fir trees of different varieties).
Our plan and progress make me feel righteous. We plan ahead, considering things in a thoughtful way based on the knowledge of experts, and making decisions that will positively impact the fauna for decades to come.
We’re creating cover to improve our watershed. We’re adding diversity to the forest. We’re eliminating the invasive buckthorn, which chokes out so many other trees seeking water and sun.
I find myself motivated every morning to get outside and attack the buckthorn step by step. It’s nasty. It comes back when you least expect it. You have to stay on top of it, spraying its leaves and offshoots as it springs up. At first, the task was debilitating. But, then, when considering it as a daily meditative experience, my motivation rose exponentially.
I’d consider where to attack the next day. I’d contemplate the withering shoots, happy to see them collapsing, content in knowing progress (though slight) was taking place.
That became my motto for the year: “Work towards mild, incremental progress.” I’ve applied it elsewhere in my life and it helps keep things in perspective. It’s far too easy feeling you can do nothing. Take on something where you feel a sense of accomplishment and move forward from there.
My mission continues. I have less than two months left to demolish the buckthorn, and fully recognize that will not happen this year. I pick off a section here and a section there, content to crush the invader and free up space to diversify our land. The work in progress continues.
It wasn’t until the past few weeks where I really added up all the bug, rot, mold, insect infestations and other issues affecting our trees, and tie it together into a grander picture. I have a close friend who lives in Marquette, MI, and he mentioned the band of earth where we live as a hot spot for where trees and other greenery, along with creatures as being affected more intimately by the ups and downs of heat and cold, flooding and drought.
You may think of those issues or not – the peaks and valleys of weather and how that changes the landscape in your area. Maybe you notice a few bushes dying in front of your house and are unsure why that’s happening.
We have some clear indicators of distress (mold killing many of the area’s oak trees and an infestation taking out river birches we’ve planted in the past five years). Slowly over the past few years, my wife and I (she took an early and big lead in terms of getting us moving in a direction to sustain our part of the earth and refurbish it in a way that puts in place plants, trees and shrubs that should thrive in this area as our 21st century unfolds) attacked some of the bad guys (buckthorn) and planted some good guys (maple and fir trees of different varieties).
Our plan and progress make me feel righteous. We plan ahead, considering things in a thoughtful way based on the knowledge of experts, and making decisions that will positively impact the fauna for decades to come.
We’re creating cover to improve our watershed. We’re adding diversity to the forest. We’re eliminating the invasive buckthorn, which chokes out so many other trees seeking water and sun.
I find myself motivated every morning to get outside and attack the buckthorn step by step. It’s nasty. It comes back when you least expect it. You have to stay on top of it, spraying its leaves and offshoots as it springs up. At first, the task was debilitating. But, then, when considering it as a daily meditative experience, my motivation rose exponentially.
I’d consider where to attack the next day. I’d contemplate the withering shoots, happy to see them collapsing, content in knowing progress (though slight) was taking place.
That became my motto for the year: “Work towards mild, incremental progress.” I’ve applied it elsewhere in my life and it helps keep things in perspective. It’s far too easy feeling you can do nothing. Take on something where you feel a sense of accomplishment and move forward from there.
My mission continues. I have less than two months left to demolish the buckthorn, and fully recognize that will not happen this year. I pick off a section here and a section there, content to crush the invader and free up space to diversify our land. The work in progress continues.