#78, October 17, 2001
Autumn is when Petaluma acorns ripen and fall to earth. The
lucky ones-- those not eaten by bugs or birds-- are soaked by winter rains.
They swell, and sprout, and send their taproots deep into the soil. It's a race
against time. Living through the first year depends utterly on how far they can
drop this little straw into the moisture which lies hiding from California's
blazing summer sun.
With the tree's little green solar panels still months from
their spring deployment, all its energy must come from the starches that were
stored up in the acorn over the prior summer. A detour around a rock or root
could mean the difference between living for centuries and drying to a crisp
before its first birthday.
Acorns: precious nuggets of potential, enchanted packages
holding the secrets of one of earth's greatest living creatures. Wrapped up in
their gold-green shells is a natural wisdom which enables them to make the best
of whatever the world deals them.
But sometimes that wisdom is lost, and things go wrong.
Earlier this year I was walking in Lafferty Park along the edge of the oak
woods bordering Adobe Creek canyon. It was mid winter, and no time for that
Quercus lobata acorn to be left hanging on a bare twig. Poor fella, never got
dropped, died on the branch. But as I got closer I saw the strangest of
strange: it was alive! Its taproot had sprouted and grown several inches toward
the earth.
It struck me how much our culture is like the sprout of that
acorn. We have taken the gift of earth's abundance-- all the natural systems
that clean our water and air, that provide us food, clothing and shelter; and
the minerals and fossil fuels from the earth's crust-- and have built a
spectacular material civilization. We have drawn down the starches from our
earth-acorn to feed this glorious root-in-the-air. The root is displayed proudly,
and make no mistake, it is a wonder to see. But it will not touch the
ground.
There were two choices for my little oak tree-to-be. Cling
to the twig, living on last summer's sunshine, growing the root until the acorn
resources are spent, then wither and die. Or break loose from the tree, sink
the root into the soil, and live.
Like the "aircorn", we can't long continue our
unrooted way of life. Expressed in financial terms, we face the choice of
living sustainably from the earth's interest income, or continuing liquidation
our capital until we collapse. Ironically, the oaks may be trying to warn us.
Sudden Oak Death Syndrome is now threatening almost every tree in California's
coastal woodlands. SODS may not be a symptom of global warming as some suggest,
but if we keep burning our fossil fuel capital, the resulting climate change will
stress our native trees. Stress opens the door to disease, and whole forests
will wither and die.
The good news is that we are not hopelessly stuck in the
sky. With commitment and care, we can embrace wisdom, cut loose from ignorance,
and bring our culture gently down to earth.
Petalumans have a unique opportunity to speed this
transition. Thanks to our City Council, sustainability is a guiding principle
for development of our new General Plan. This City has been holding public
visioning workshops to launch the planning process. The meetings are structured
to make it easy for people with little or no experience with City government to
participate. You work in small groups to consider where you'd like Petaluma to
go over the next 20 years, covering a wide range of subjects.
There are two General Plan workshops remaining. The first is
this Saturday, October 20, 8:30am to 12:30pm, at the Community Center. It will
address transportation, which has the most potential for progress toward
sustainability. The November 3 session, from 8:30am to 12:30pm at Kenilworth
Jr. High, will wrap up the work of all the prior sessions. For more information
call 778.4345.
Feeling more rooted already?