Remembering and re-branding stewardship (2/2)
green and blue spaces while you sleep. By the aforementioned means, the semiformal status of ‘steward’ can be attained via simple financial contribution—but it’s better to go beyond just this. Going above and beyond your minimum stewardly responsibilities, it turns out, is more complicated during a pandemic, but remember that by some definitions, your jurisdiction extends only to the outer boundaries of your own backyard.
Whether you have access to the literal version of a ‘backyard’—or, alternatively, your apartment balcony, a windowsill, or a nearby ravine—matters less than your ingenuity and creativity. Taking a survey of the different plant species that exist in your ‘yard’ is surprisingly stimulating, and often leads to further progressions: categorizing native and non-native flora, propagating native pollinator plants, and perhaps artificially proliferating some native edible plants. I took a break from writing this afternoon to do all of these things. The previously-mentioned acts are also exercises in fostering ecological diversity and resilience—the cornerstones of a strong defense against pestilence, among other things.
I’d like to believe that these suggestions are useful for reasons beyond combating boredom, and that lessons learned in a backyard (or equivalent) might someday be applied on a larger scale. You may or may not agree that with all adversity comes a proportionate opportunity for growth; the Black Death and subsequent Renaissance in Europe have been cited as evidence of this fact, but one’s attribution to the other is a tenuous thing. I’m much more comfortable arguing that adversity—in manageable doses, I should say—is a blessing.
As it happens, the man who is regarded by many as the grandfather of stewardship in environmentalism and modern conservation, had an opinion on adversity and risk: “It must be a poor life that achieves freedom from fear” wrote Aldo Leopold in “A Sand County Almanac” (this makes for great springtime quarantine reading, by the way). In addition to the ameliorating weather, rising water temperatures, and stirring fish activity, the aforementioned literature and sentiments put me in a heightened state of anxiousness—albeit excited anxiousness—which I’m so far content to let build. So, I’ll conclude by offering the same advice that I’ve been repeating silently to myself: continue to stay inside and away, doing so gracefully insofar as that’s possible, and emerge as the best angler and steward that you’re capable of when the time is right.