Today it is raining in le Perche. I know that is not news in Pennsylvania, but this is the first rainfall we have had in well over a month. In early August, we had a rainy Saturday. Before that, we’d not seen a drop since early June. We are in a drought, with water rationing in place, and during the summer, temperatures regularly climbed above 100°.
This morning, I went to my garden to see the impact of the night’s rain. It wasn’t much, a downpour followed by an early-morning clearing till later, rain began again. A glance at the big golden flowers of zucchini and pumpkin plants, at the kale standing tall, at lettuce puffed up like a peony in bloom, and one word filled my mind: gratitude.
Literally, the earth soaked it up and immediately plants reacted, the few drops of rain as good as an elixir sent by the gods. I could feel the sap rising and was amazed that so little could do so much.
This past summer has not been easy. My house is in Normandy, a region known for green fields, leafy hedgerows, morning mists and lots of rain. This summer I’ve watched the earth crack, fields turn brown, and leaves fall from trees. In a nearby garden, the branches of a cedar at least five stories high are covered with brown tufts as big as basketballs. This could not be a good sign.
Meanwhile the forest fires of southern France have moved north towards central regions of the country, where there are fears that drinking water will soon run out.
“Douce France” seems neither temperate nor kind, at least not weather-wise.
In Paris one pollution peak follows fast on another and in some city classrooms, pollutants measure higher than in city streets.
This past month has got me thinking more than usual about the climate. Like nearly everybody, I like to say that at my own modest level, I do what I can. I’m careful to not waste water (but I love long showers), I try to cut down on the use of electricity (easy in the summertime in France, where few have air-conditioned homes), and if I don’t have to drive, I don’t. I love to take the train. Deep down, however, I know I’m not doing enough, especially at a time when planet Earth is on a collision course.
If I didn’t have the high temperatures and drought to remind me, this past month has also been inundated, not with rain, but with commemorative days meant to get us humans involved in the Earth’s fate. September 16th was the International Day for the Protection of the Ozone. The theme for this year is “32 years and healing,” celebrating 32 years of international cooperation, since the first “Save the Ozone Day” back in 1995. Since then the ozone has been recovering at the rate of 1-3% per decade.
Some readers must remember those days in the 1960’s and 70’s, when we carelessly, joyfully, participated in the destruction of the ozone layer using spray deodorants, spray starch and hairsprays that we regarded as signs of progress compared to the products of our parents’ day. I remember my mom’s Tussy cream deodorant and her love of talcum powder. The deodorant left white traces on her clothes. The talcum powder, it was soon discovered, was laced with asbestos.
We young people simply sprayed on till, in the late 70’s, the CFC’s (chlorofluorocarbons) that so powerfully propelled the spray to underarm or teased hairdo, were taken off the market.
Now we should be worrying about our refrigerators, air-conditioners and cars. If they are more than 10 years old, they contain freon, a potent greenhouse gas, which will be phased out completely in the USA in 2020 if the current administration does not cancel the ban. That’s a possibility since, in mid-September, President Trump revoked California’s right to set higher fuel-emission standards than those of the federal government.
According to figures provided by the EPA for the year 2017, transportation was the biggest producer of greenhouse gases in the US.
This means we’re going to have to cut back on our use of gasoline, a fossil fuel, yet I have to admit, be it in le Perche or Schuylkill County, life without a car would be a near impossibility.
It wasn’t always that way. Reading a short story by Pottsville’s John O’Hara, I registered surprise when characters hopped on a trolley to ride between Saint Clair and Frackville. I’d never known such a trolley existed. Until the 1930’s, county residents could also use trolleys to travel south. A line ran between Schuylkill Haven and Adamsdale and from Pottsville to Tumbling Run. In fact, trains and trolleys crisscrossed the county in all directions. Back in the olden days, public transportation was the viable option it no longer is today.
My village in France is at the head of a bike path that used to be a trainline joining all the towns and villages of the region.
But back to dates! Since late August, you’d have to have your head buried in the sand to escape talk about climate change. That’s when 16-year-old Swedish climate-activist Greta Thunberg arrived in the USA on her solar-powered boat. On September 18th, she addressed Congress. The following Friday, she led young Americans in New York City in a climate strike. They were joined by millions of protesters around the world.
On September 21st, while in Saudi Arabia the world’s largest oil refinery continued to burn, the UN asked the world to celebrate International Peace Day. This year’s theme is “Climate action for peace.” The same date is also World Cleanup Day, a time for individuals to join together to clean up the environment in their neighborhoods.
From the 24th to the 30th, New York City is celebrating Climate Week. This corresponds with high-level general debates at the 74th session of the UN General Assembly, two of which are devoted to the climate and sustainable development.
Meanwhile, the rain has turned to drizzle and I wonder if this climate hubbub will change anything. Afterall, we’ve heard it many times before and climate-change sceptics write it all off as a hoax.
But, as the saying goes, “You don’t miss your water till the well runs dry.” That day will make believers of us all.
