A Love Letter

Dear Mother Earth,

Thank you for planting me on Elm Street in Massachusetts, back in 1948. Too bad your elm children died from Dutch elm disease. However, the maple brothers moved in and did well. I tried to capture the beauty of their autumn leaves but didn’t have enough Sears catalogs or phone books.

Thank you for our big yard. I know it was not “natural,” but the lawn was a site for games, cartwheels and somersaults, badminton and croquet. There, in winter, I could make half the angels in heaven, a snowman and snow fort. Mom had her flowers and Dad grew a big organic garden.

Thank you for the sycamore landmark. Though Elm Street was the main thoroughfare through town, that tree was the oldest and largest one. Once you saw that giant, you knew where I lived.

Thank you for the few acres of woodlot behind my house. It was where I went to breathe, cry and play. I learned of all your woodland flora and fauna, including poison ivy! I swung like Tarzan on the wild grapevines and savored their fruit, ate blackberries and black raspberries.

In summer, I caught fireflies in a jar there. I picked “Jack-in-the Pulpit,” played in a muddy seep and sledded down the bare hillside in winter. I especially loved that huge tree with the horizontal branch. I couldn’t wait to be tall enough to bound onto it and straddle it like a horse.

In your woodlot, I found my passion for birds. I grew up in your arms. What you offered me would fulfill my life. Your gifts are like a religion to me.

Since then, I have met many more of your offspring. I was awed by the Western branch of your family. I was spell-bound by the canyons, deserts, arroyos, Pacific Ocean, the Six Rivers, fog and towering redwoods.

Thank you, Mother!

All my love, Louise

Louise Bacon-Ogden continues her lifelong love affair with Mother Earth in Eureka.