When someone my age mutters, “Kids today,” that’s probably a red flag. It must mean that I am officially old.
We were the first house on the street twenty-eight years ago. In the midst of all the construction in the area, there wasn’t much that was beautiful to behold. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but posts with wires wrapped around, heavy machinery rumbling around, foundation pits, no trees, no grass. Dust everywhere. Down the street to the west, a drainage and water run-off area was put in. At that time, it was just a couple of big sewers on either end with bars across and some grass put down, a few saplings and bushes stuck in here and there. When it rained, there was a pond of sorts until the water drained off.
Almost thirty years later, that area has become an oasis. Rushes and cattails blow in the breezes, cardinals sing from the top branches of the tall poplars. There’s always some variety of wildflower blooming in the tall grasses. Right now, there are vivid clusters of goldenrod glowing in the light of late summer. Crickets are singing hello to the autumn. Milkweed stalks hold their buds, getting ready to launch their parachutes of seeds. It’s been a balm to the heart, knowing the milkweed is there for the Monarch butterflies, who have recently been declared an endangered species.
Living in a subdivision, being able to walk through a natural area like this has been much appreciated. I go through there every day. Especially in the last few pandemic years, moving daily through a space like this has been meditative and calming. A few weeks ago, I was strolling over the grass there when I passed a couple coming the other way. “See?” the woman told her companion. “Isn’t it beautiful? It’s the neighbourhood’s best kept secret.”
Unfortunately, the secret garden’s cover is blown.
There are responsible teenagers out there. I have known many. But as is the same with adults, there are teenagers who lack respect and those of that ilk have quickly plundered the little neighbourhood oasis. They come in a hoard and sit up against private homes’ fence lines under a tree. While children in their yards behind are bouncing on their trampolines or swimming in their pools, they are treated to various epithets and inappropriate language shouted out from the other side of the fence. Under the tree lies a litter of discarded fast food containers, empty water bottles and tossed Slurpee cups. Torn off branches with withering leaves are strewn over the grass. Much of the milkweed is trampled.
I used to envy the homeowners lucky enough to have their properties connected to this naturalized little stretch of land. This destruction must be very sad and unsettling for them.
Maybe, back in the day I demonstrated similar disrespect. I don’t recall doing so, but I suppose it’s likely that I did. There wasn’t as much onus on environmental respect in those days, although there should have been. But I know that “kids today” have been taught about the threats to our natural world and they should have an awareness that we all need to take conservation and preservation seriously. I was a teacher. I was there for the Earth Day celebrations, the garbage pick-up days, the bulb and seed planting, the read-alouds featuring books encouraging children to love our planet.
And so this burns me up a bit.
What a shame that those who know better don’t do better.
Corrina Austin 