Capitalism has won.

Change is guaranteed to change for the worse? You mean, we don't have a vaccine for polio anymore?!

Okay, maybe things are worse, because the maples have anthracnose with the black spots. But I think we still have fungicide.

Tony, I think things will get worse until the global human population burgeons to 11 billion. Then mass famine and pestilance will wipe us out down to maybe a few hundred million, forests and prairies will engulf the ruins of our former cities, and everything will by hunky-dory again.

What's that math term that means "the sense of confusion or discomfort that happens just before growth or understanding Happens"? Sounds like we are there.

My, what a depressing post, Ink! I read the subject line and immediately started thinking - "planning for fall, yes, I need to plan, I need more of those lilac colored tulips that I was so enamored with this spring, and I need to move that Britt Marie whatchamacallit that doesn't really blend with anything, and I need to figure out how to get enough wood chipped for mulch, oh and I canNOT forget to buy some more bergenias, and ....

Fall is a great time to plan. To plan for the excitement and beauty of next spring and the abundance of summer. And this can be meant metaphorically as well. Fall is the last bit of energy before the sleepiness of winter and winter must come before spring. Don't despair, we need the farmers too even if they cut down trees. The robins will figure it out, they always (almost) do, juveniles are always confused it isn't necessarily because of global warming. I agree with Cady, many things are "worse", but many are better as well.

Meanwhile, the president of the Philippines just had more than 600,000 trees planted throughout the archipelago, and northern China just reforested a mountain with walnut, persimmon and pines.

Kind of balances the farmer with his clear-cuttin' ways. But of course, the Philippines and that mountain in northern China aren't across the street from Inky's office, so it's kind of like the proverbial "if a tree is planted in northern China, and Ink is in Montreal, does it make a sound..."

Are we talking about the season fall or the fall of civilization? To join in with the depressing theme...

Try and come to willingly embrace
Kharma's kiss of withering decay
Death feeds, Hell breeds
Subside in the Autumn

Autumn indicates the death of beauty as we know
Autumn indicates the death of beauty as we know
Keep on fighting one died from burning at his throat
Autumn swiftly stole the breath of body, mind and soul
- 10 Years - The Autumn Effect

Growing up in Michigan, fall was a favorite season of mine...the fall colors, football, pumpkins, apples. Here in Virginia fall is hit and miss. It often does not really feel like fall until close to Thanksgiving. Fall should be a very productive time in the garden, and there are moments of productivity, but once Daylight Saving Time ends it gets dark so early.

- Brent

I will be planting around 30 trees this fall (to go with the 43 planted in the past 5 years), so that more than makes up for the Bad Farmer.

This is partly for me and a little for the next generation as well (particularly in the case of the 18-inch white oak sapling), unless we wind up selling the house someday and the new owner decides he prefers pristine lawn.

"...the president of the Philippines just had more than 600,000 trees planted throughout the archipelago..."

I think Imelda Marcos had about that many pairs of shoes.

Oh, I guess I was just looking for support, as melancholy as that sounds, so thanks guys.

Not to sound like I have my head in the sand here, but to link with Erics thought, We all have our little bits of the earth that we nurture, and enhance as we are able.

If we do this, encouraging every one else who is interested in the lifestyle we call "Gardening" wouldnt there eventually be some sort of patchwork of little green oasis accross our communities?

I remember when urban gardeners started to have a renewed interest in compost in the '70s. Some folks laughed at that. The same with Organic, Sustainable, Native, Low water, etc.

We are making a difference, even if its just holding a piece of the earth as habitat for the robin, and providng peaceful moments for the neighbor who walks by and drinks in the tranquility of our garden.

Its to big some times to get so globaly focused. I take a Taoist view, where my single step, at the moment, counts, and it is also all I have. The powerfull drop of water that joins up with other drops to wear down the rock.
Of course there are tons of nice things about fall, The Season. But sometimes, its easy to get the blues for a moment at this luschious time of year.

Things are going to rotate. The plans that were so crisp and focused in June, lay in various states of nearing finished, and no where near done. That lovely spot to sit,with a cool drink, watching the fledglings test their wings is sprinkled with little gold leaves that crackle when brushed aside. Its short time for the golden days. Hard not to grieve a little.

The cheery fire, and crumbly scone that come in November arn't much comfort when you just want to hold on to this a little longer. At some point I get a second wind, tidy up the beds, trim the perenials that arnt let go to seed for the birds, see a different beauty and recapture peace.

I am thrilled about the trees in other countries. Some days tho, all I can do is take the hand of our 4 1/2 year old, and lead him around the garden, teaching him the names and care of the plants, so he can keep it going after my time here.

I like the Taoist outlook, Zzepherdogg, but personally, I take the Hobbit approach (which, come to think of it, is pretty much in the Tao). After a season in the garden, when it all goes to pot, it's time to doze in front of the woodstove with my feet swaddled in fuzzy socks (since I don't have hairy Hobbit feet) and my hands wrapped around a mug of beer or hot cider.

Oh Yah, That sounds good too....Is there any marmalde left for the crispy toast?

Stop reading and listening to people talk and look around you.

I never saw a deer in the wild until I saw one on the side of the road on the Mass Pike in the Berkshires when I was 18. I remember the family delaying half an hour to go for Christmas dinner because there was a Cardinal at our bird feeder. I remember all the kids in the neighborhood would stop our playing to watch the two or three hawks that we would see a year and talk about it for days. Each summer we would go up to the Merrimac River just north of Concod, NH and three or four of those years I actually saw a fox and have those memories decades later because they were a big deal.

My friends in the old neighborhood (suburban Boston) now tell me about deer that they see regularly on my old front lawn. I see Redtail Hawks, Broad Wing Hawks, Cooper's Hawks, Ospreys, and Turkey Vultures on almost a daily basis. Foxes are all over the place (as well as a new K9 to the region known as a Coyote). Most of the views of lakes and ponds have grown in due to conservation measures (now only wealthy folks with waterfront proprty get to see these water bodies). Lakes, ponds, and rivers are much cleaner than when I was a kid in my area. We now have Fishers (large weasel) which I never heard of when I was a kid.

Its not perfect. There are problems, but realize how much things are moving in the right direction and don't let other people tell you what is around you. Look for yourselves. You might see what I see - much more wildlife and much more habitat.
[IMG]http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a84/laag/wickedgoodeaglecropped.jpg[/IMG]
I spent my vacation in Maine with this dude. There was another one on a branch about 12' above him/her.
It is getting better!

Here is the link ...

Here is a link that might be useful: {{gwi:45824}}

It's Taoist to wear fuzzy socks because it keeps your Taos warm?

Monocultures of a few kinds of trees do not replace equatorial or Chinese forests where thousands of species of plants and animals have been erased.

Not all is negative, although with the national and world news, these days, I feel blessed to be here now, and not worried about staying alive to the end of the day. Fall is not nearly the end of the season in our out of sink with the rest of the world climate. We get to have spring in fall with the first rains that wake the landscape up and the hills start growing green again. Of course the days are also growing shorter here, and the nights more cool, but we still have a full garden of flowering things through mid January here, The sky does take on a misty quality with a soft blur to the hills across the bay, backed by intermittent fog still pushing in from the coast, which only ends when it finally cools off inland. Then we get our coastal version of Indian Summer to compensate for staying so cool and overcast much of the summer. So fall is not nearly so melancholy on the left coast, but a time to get more energized and start new projects, and the absolute best time to start new gardens.

For those of you who really enjoy the change of seasons, it is always more subtle to see in coastal California, but distinct none the less. Around about late October or early November, I usually need a quick get away further south to steel myself for the winter to come, and this year Bali, Kuala Lumpur and Baja California are calling...

Yah, Bboy, I know all about monoculture, believe me. My natural resource conservation profs drummed it into me back at the university. :)

The species used to reforest the mountain in China were the climax-forest trees that had been cut down. The undergrowth species will fill in and recover too.

I think we've got some ying and yang going, Ink, optimism/pessimism. Of course, nobody cut down the trees across from me... I wrote this 8/28 and called it "Hanging on to Summer".

Summer is probably the favorite time of year for most tropical gardeners. After all, it's the time the garden looks its best. Day to day growth is noticeable: palm spears kick up and open, bromeliads pup profusely, gingers bloom, bananas fruit, aromatic flowers perfume the air. The early morning warmth foretelling a bright and sunny day, and the lingering heat of the evening are cherished by the tropical gardener.

But there is more to the love-affair with summer than peak season in the garden. The small pleasures and rituals of summer contribute to a feeling of well-being. Weekend mornings enjoying coffee and a newspaper while lounging outdoors barefoot, perhaps a light breeze ruffling the 'Travel' section as we peruse life's possibilities. The casual, abbreviated clothes outside the office: never more than flip flops on the feet, some baggy shorts or a loose skirt, arms freed from sleeves, a cocky hat to shade the sun. Summer calls for frivolous violet toenails, a light tan warms the skin, a few streaks of gold appear in the hair, I can taste salt on my lips. The abundance of seasonal fruits offers strawberries with breakfast, blueberries and canteloupe with lunch, and watermelon with dinner. The neighbors give us bags of avocados from their trees and tomatoes from their vines. The long reach of the sun allows for an early morning surf in the ocean before the crowds arrive and early evening hikes in the hills to enjoy a bit of shade and a light breeze on the trail.

In summer I feel my healthiest, my strongest. It makes me feel optimistic about things that might be worrisome in winter. My mind is uncluttered and decisions are clear.

The evidence is here, though; August is on the wane. The heat of day is dissipating earlier, the sunset comes too soon. The late day shadows are longer, and the color of the light is changing. While the shining wet expanse of sand on the beach is still flat and broad from the languid waves of summer, scattered with shell bits and pebbles, there is a hint of freshness in the water, an unexpected coolness on the feet.

I feel an urge to grasp at every last bit of summer, squeeze out every drop. The weekend plans are piling up fast, jumbled on the calendar, can we fit it all in before October slams the door on summer? I feel a twinge of resentment about having to work five days a week during the finest time of the year. But even the youngsters who have played in the ocean all summer must resign themselves to returning to classrooms and regimented schedules.

Maybe we enjoy summer so much because we cannot have it all the time. There are other things to look forward to in the coming seasons. The vanda has a bloom spike with buds expanding daily, and the laelia has sent out a tall wand, promising purple flowers in October. Maybe the fall will remain warm, maybe the winter will be mild, maybe the palms will grow through the winter, maybe the rains will be plentiful.

A hummingbird swoops toward me and pauses in flight to investigate my hair, my face. He approaches, then backs off a bit, glancing up and down, purple throat flashing, wings singing, then speeds away to search for something new. I will take a sip of wine and watch the wisps of clouds turn pink.

They replanted the hundreds of tree species that might have been there originally, using same local ecotypes? And all the associated climax vegetation, including orchids are (and will be) still nearby to come back in from the edges later, after the new stand has had a few hundred years to age? Wow!

Global - even local - news IS depressing and since there is little I individually can do about it, I tend to ignore it for the most part. I know - very ostrich-like and head in the sand - but it's my coping mechanism. Instead, much like others, I focus on my tiny section of the planet and improve and enhance that to the best of my ability. And through my business, try to do a bit more of the same for others.

I find fall to be an entrancing season - the quality of the light and that slight tang in the air is inspiring and I get recharged after the heat and langor of summer. Maybe because its my birth season, but fall is my favorite time of year. Still warm enough to garden happily, cool enough to sleep comfortably at night, incredible sunsets, the bounty of the harvest. And that whole back to school thing is hard to get away from, even though it's been years since that was part of the routine. I still find myself stocking up on supplies, organizing and getting into more of routine than summer generally allows.

I look forward to fall. Even though the change of seasons is subtle here in the PNW as well, it's still discernable - the crispness of the weather, the intensity of color, there is even a distinct aroma to the air that is different from that of summer. And I start cooking again, which my family and co-workers love - apple crisps and berry cobblers, soups, roasts and stews - all those things that sound too heavy and hot and unappealing for the last few months.

They replanted the hundreds of tree species that might have been there originally, using same local ecotypes? And all the associated climax vegetation, including orchids are (and will be) still nearby to come back in from the edges later, after the new stand has had a few hundred years to age? Wow!

Give it a rest, Smartarse! :^P
You know darn well that in 6 billion years, give or take a billion, the sun will have burnt up its hydrogen fuel and will go Red Giant. The Earth will be toasted, and all that mankind hath wrought will be for naught. Or something like that. It will be as though we and Earth never were.

So, enjoy the autumn and be grateful that humans haven't hit the 11 billion population yet! Eat, drink, be merry and go trash a peat bog.

You got that yin yang right catkim. Your post is certainly an appetite enhancer while gigi is supplying the food: and I can always do food. David supplies that plant envy as always to balance my austerity while cady and bboy are rounding out that circle. Today a large bird (sorry I am from somewhere else and didn't recognise it)swept down on some road kill just as I was about to drive over it and kill it again and I thought it might carry me away as well and I thought of Andrew's eagle. What have I learned from talking with you guys: tread lightly.

Confession:

OK, many of you are bummed out that summer is almost gone. Maybe it is my reason for optimism. About 50,000 people will be going back to New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut after this weekend and leaving me free to get of my road, go grocery shopping, and function with less congestion. I might even go to the beach. September is a wonderful thing on Cape Cod.

... I also quit both of my jobs and started a new full time site planning job and will be practicing LA on the side. So, I'm a little cheery saving two hours of commuting and $8 in gas a day. Yea!

Here so-called revegetation projects are just traditional landscape installations using natives. The mix often consists of ecotypes from thousands of miles away, as well as ~related species that aren't even North American (such as Cornus alba and Salix purpurea). I've even seen a native stand of salmonberry bulldozed away and replaced by a grid planting of salmonberry purchased from a nursery.

As the rain pours down for the 5th day this week, I feel the coming cold in my bones. I mourn the loss of trees, INK, each one a soldier helping us win our war to breathe. With that said, I love the autumn. The light is the best, the days crisp, the ending of the growing season spectacular. Dreams for the future and the realities of the present seem to crash into each other. The pretty pales give way to golden tones. It's a time of strength and beauty--its also the best time here to plant--trees.

Change is not always bad. I saw the wonder in new eyes this week, a group of second graders who raised and watched caterpillars transform into crysalises and then into butterflies. I heard the gasp, and awe as these tiny new lives opened their wings and flew away. It is a moment these children will never forget. I saw the same wonder in my neighbor as she also saw that transformation. She then planted "that weed" in her yard, so that she would also have "those worms" that were butterflies in waiting. Change can be tiny, like a caterpillar on a branch, and change can be huge, like a butterfly emerging. I see my children change and grow. Is this bad? They are becoming, learning, transforming into what they need to be. All we should really do is watch, and guide, and appreciate the change.