Starting out from Brooklyn, an amateur naturalist explores our world.
As John Burroughs said, “The place to observe nature is where you are.”
Dead trees in bondage, Neptune Avenue, Coney Island.
This time of year, the Ents are pissed. While I very much encourage the worship of trees, dead ones are a grotesque fetish. I don’t care if they’re farmed. I like my paganism unadulterated, not cryptically incorporated into, and co-opted by, monotheism.
Updated 12/10: A friend who lives with a view of Prospect Park tells me she once witnessed a couple emerge from the park with a tree, and the saw they cut it down with.
So, I shouldn’t invite you to our Pagan-Atheist-Christian-Holiday-Solstice Tree-Trimming?
I’ll stay outside in the garden under the moonlight.
You never leave one to wonder – “just what does Matthew think about this”? I confess – we’re getting a tree tomorrow. Chris – is that a Festivus party?
It takes time to change things. Rome wasn’t sacked in a day.
Backyard and Beyond 
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