Nature | Elizabeth Anne Rose

June 23rd, 2016 at 12:40pm by ElizabethRose

Climate Change Changes Everything

I got up early this morning

to visit my garden.

A baby bunny

nibbled the native bushes

planted by Jennifer.

It was Jen’s idea to return indigenous plants

to my neighborhood.

A small brown bird,

the common kind,

bounced between the fuchsia and pink colored peonies,

He sampled an ant here

and a caterpillar there.

Then, without a warning,

a yellow goldfinch,

dressed in his solstice suit,

bright as a wedding,

swooped in to land on the purple catnip.

It was too limp to hold his perfect body,

even though he weighed

the equivalent of only 10 fingernail clippings.

He kept slipping off,

but even then he persisted,

long after I would have given up and

moved on to the emerging cornflowers.

It was fun watching the life in my own microcosm

until I remembered that climate change was real

and the flowers and animals already knew it better than I.

They travel 11 miles north every decade,

to catch a little relief.

As the goldfinch struggled to land on the purple catnip,

and the tiny bunny chewed the flox greens,

and the brown bird pecked at last season’s deadheads,

I envied the animals and plants moving on without protest.

I envied the climate change deniers

still enjoying their gardens.

April 17th, 2015 at 01:58pm by ElizabethRose

Neoroplasticity and the writing process

This past winter was a day at the beach for a writer. Buried under 100 inches of snow, surrounded by 10 ft. tall drifts, my office became the adult version of a child’s snow fort. Trapped in a blue crystalline world with my imagination and my muses I was hard at work. Sorta, kinda….until the snow melted and the muses abandoned.

February 25th, 2015 at 10:02am by ElizabethRose

Turtles beat the winter doldrums

Ethel Pink and Bob, two young Blanding’s turtles, are on a fast track. In Massachusetts, Blanding’s turtles are a threatened species, but Ethel Pink and Bob are over-achievers in their underclass.

Last fall, most of their brothers and sisters became snack food for crows, hawks or raccoons. Those few with the luck to survive are now hibernating under a foot of mud. In contrast, Ethel Pink and Bob are vacationing at the local library, lounging in an 80 degree tank, snacking on a Paleo diet, attended to by a covey of librarians and enthusiastic children. They are receiving a “head start” on life.

February 20th, 2015 at 04:04pm by ElizabethRose

To be an environmentalist or not to be

My friend, Vera, tells me she is not an environmentalist. Not because she debunks climate change or hates polar bears.

Vera would qualify for “environmentalist” if I were the one doing the judging. Vera has been recycling for the past 35 years, long before anyone else was doing it. She is currently building a tiny house on wheels (THOW) using her own designs and labor. Sixty-percent of the interior of her tiny house is repurposed materials, including old drawers that will become stairs. She plans to use her “Silver Bullet” to teach others how to downsize into a tiny “houseprint.”

September 14th, 2014 at 01:16pm by ElizabethRose

Essay: Is This My Cat?

A bloody mess lay near the median strip. A small body sliced in half by the passage of a car wheel, still wearing the tire imprint like a new t-shirt, the head and the rear of the animal still intact.

I am paying attention because I am looking for my cat. She has been missing for two days. Can this be Dolly?

September 14th, 2014 at 01:11pm by ElizabethRose

Essay: Leafy, Green and Married

It was leafy green and lay in my husband’s plate looking like a graduate of vegetable boot camp. He presented it to me on his twisted metal cafeteria fork. “What is this?”

I was surprised. Spinach in a salad carried the mystique of a slice of American cheese at the deli counter or a common nail in the hardware bin.

A week later, just before Passover, his botanical confusion returned. He asked, “By the way, what is the leafy green plant soaking in a glass of water in the refrigerator?”

September 14th, 2014 at 01:06pm by ElizabethRose

Flash Fiction: First Born

Johnny had to be first. That’s just the way it was. I knew that from the beginning and really it didn’t make no difference. He was the first born so it made sense.

When Mama wanted something done she asked him first. He was biggest and turned oldest first, no matter how we all tried to catch up.