I may be known for rolling my eyes when hearing educators describe crossword puzzles, color by number, word searches, indeed any sort of puzzle, as fun work. I have always struggled with visual spatial tasks or as I describe it to those who note my thinly vailed response, "it's not my skill set." Imagine my confusion this vacation, when I realized that Wayne had gifted to me a thousand piece Audubon puzzle. It looked as though 2020 was going to end with the same sort of enthusiasm as a student faced with a double sided page of word problems. Go ahead and just close your eyes and "visualize it."
I have always subscribed to the notion of honor the gift, so when Abby and Wayne left for an errand, I began to set up my strategy for success. I had brought in the coffee table and a TV dinner table by the time they had returned. I told Wayne that I required the large folding table as well. Sorting flat edges, words, reds, blacks, oranges, greens whites, beaks, legs....It was too much for them to stand by and watch. Abby collected the border to assemble as I explained the process. Flats before color same with words I began; but Wayne was already applying his left handed, map loving, geometric logic. To make it more confusing, Abby informed me that using the picture was cheating! "Well okay then, I'm counting light pink and pale yellow as being white." Clearly I was in over my head.
In 2020 I visited a salt marsh and attended three online presentations on salt marshes. Two were hosted by Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge in Wells ME and one by the Southeastern Vermont Audubon Society. I was surprised to recognize Vernon residents in attendance at the Audubon meeting and that local Biologist Cory Ross introduced the Graduate Student presenting. Each presentation discussed the status of bird species of concern that nested in the marsh, the important role that these marshes play in cleaning polluted water, protection from storm events and flood control, how the marshes were historically impacted by agricultural use and continue to be impacted by development and climate change. It was further explained how marshes are naturally created but face increasing challenges that require intervention by Ecologists.
Salt water marsh, photo credit- Helen Manning
The programs included an opportunity to ask questions and I noticed that one particular question was asked each time. Viewers wanted to know, that since they didn't live anywhere near a salt marsh, what could they do to help? "All water flows to the ocean" seemed to be a unifying theme. It seems that our inland practices impact our rivers and streams and therefore the salt marshes' interdependent ecology with the ocean. Creating impervious surfaces increases water runoff pollution. Removing native plants and installing barriers between water and plants interferes with the natural system of absorption and water filtration. Poorly managed land delivers silt pollution to our rivers and streams, creating "dead zones" and biological imbalances. The overarching issue of climate change causing rising ocean levels is another major piece of the puzzle. This is an area where tiny states like VT are attempting to lead the way by reducing fossil fuel consumption. Like approaching any giant puzzle, there are multiple strategies required to solve it and all of them require cooperation between those defining the parameters and those working the puzzle.
Salt water marsh, photo credit Helen Manning
Taxing rural VT's major source for winter heat and transportation to reduce consumption as you can well imagine, has sparked a good deal of "conversation." Talking about other's contributions to the problem and their need to bear the brunt of the solution seems more palatable. My mother in FL and her concern for Lake Okeechobee and the shrinking Everglades for example, is the reason that I am particular about the sugar that I buy. It seems more achievable to buy select sugar than to pay taxes on my fuel consumption. Each it seems however, is an important piece in solving the puzzle. If someone were to ask which is more important, the Everglades Snail Kite or Maine's Saltmarsh Sparrow, the answer must be, both of them.
Elevation above sea level at Everglades National Park
Yesterday our walk took us past a culvert that the town had replaced. It was replaced with the much larger culvert after heavy rains overwhelmed the previous one causing a lot of damage to nearby properties. I noticed that sometime after it was replaced, someone created a swimming hole near the outlet by constructing a small stone dam. To further complicate things, a tree fell just downstream of the dam and that too has been collecting mud and other debris. I have watched over the past couple of years, the stream erode the soil around the two dams creating a new streambed to the left of the original. Now during heavy rain events and snow melts, the stream takes two paths, one over the dams and the other around them. Why I wonder, do we now require bigger culverts than were installed in the 70s? What has changed to make it financially advantageous for our state and town to redesign and install these water pathways? How is the water that flows through them connected to restoring and protecting Maine's salt marshes?
Wayne's puzzle gift isn't just another 2020 headache to work through. As it turns out, it is a deeply meaningful segway to explaining our connectedness, our attempts at organizing what is in front of us and the value of many diverse, albeit cooperative approaches to placing each equally important piece. I have a new answer to the question of, "Why should Vermont tax fossil fuels when Connecticut consumes infinitely more than we do?" Clearly the answer to the question is Maine's salt marshes. It's also important to remember that every puzzle begins by setting the first piece-Norma Manning
New culvert in Vernon, VT
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