A Moody End of May

Caution to my fellow bibliophiles: This post is not about books and is not a fun topic. As soon as I publish this, I'm going to write the books entry I meant to write yesterday.

I must begin this post by saying that I'm sorrier than I can be about the billions of gallons of oil spilling into the Gulf of Mexico. That region will never be the same again. It's a tragedy of such massive proportions that no one realizes yet just how catastrophic it is. And I weep over it. And I weep for the people who live there and who love their land and sea and wildlife the way I do "my" Adirondack mountains, forests, lakes, and animals.

What a horror it is to realize that this is happening because we're digging much, much deeper in the oceans than we have the technology to manage--all because we're running out of oil. Who knew that the companies drilling the oil had gone way beyond their depth?

I have a saying that I've used for decades to refer to irreversible environmental damage: "The canary died a long time ago." Of course, I'm referring to the canaries that coal miners used to bring deep down into the mines with them to warn them of dangerous levels of carbon monoxide and methane. So, what I mean by this saying is that the planet Earth's canary has been dead for years and years. We're a dying planet. One can only hope to save parts of it, as much as we can.