If May was like opening a window you forgot was there, August (for me, at least) is like the final burning embers of a campfire. It’s hard to know if you want to throw a few more logs on and keep the good times rolling, or let the fire fade and head to bed.
Maybe it’s not the time or place for campfire analogies, but it’s hard to ignore the sense that doors are closing and things are ending now that summer is half over.
Last night, the Barnacle volunteer team had our first in-person meeting since the beginning of summer. We gathered in a Cookville living room, catching up on our lives, reading the newest issue of the paper, and scheming for the fall. The room was full of hope and possibility.
That feeling crumbled when I got into my car, turned on the radio, and heard alerts about evacuations in Annapolis County, the fire in Bayers Lake, and drought conditions across our province.
Fortunately, I have friends who know when to inject a little positivity into the air. At just the right moment, one of them texted me this quote:
Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.
— Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants
I hope the world feeds you today, in whatever way you need. I hope you enjoy this summer issue of the Barnacle.
– Sal Falk, Editor-in-chief
