Silent Spring Dawns
Hot, Dry, and Merciless — Can We Keep the Flame of Hope Alive?
by Jennifer Browdy de Hernandez
Last week, turning the corner into the astronomical Spring, we went abruptly from warm winter to hot summer. And I mean hot: it was 84 degrees Farenheit in western Massachusetts, brightly sunny, with puffy white cumulus clouds against a brilliant blue sky, unobstructed by any leaves. No shade.
This day reminded me of a wax model: beautiful but blank. The façade of beauty, with the crucial vital spark missing.
When I went for a walk up the mountain early that morning, the woods were eerily silent. I remembered mournfully the spring mornings of my childhood, where I would be awakened by the joyful singing of the dawn chorus of thousands of birds each happily greeting each other and the new day.
Reaching the top of the mountain having heard only the distant cry of a single phoebe, I stopped to sit on a rock and listen for a few minutes. All I heard was the dim rushing of the traffic on the road far below me, and the drone of an airplane churning its way across the sky. (more…)






