Before the Buckeyes were the elm trees. Majestic, with an expansive canopy, the American Elm tree lined streets throughout this country. Most American Elms died off from Dutch Elm disease. The disease first appeared in 1930 in Ohio, most mature elm trees were gone by the 1970s. The dutch elm fungus is spread by a beetle and along roots where trees are close together.
I plan to wage a vigorous campaign against knotweed but then I need to listen to this land as it is now. Nothing remains the same. Nostalgia will not fix our environments. But a girl does need to have a sour cherry tree or three.
Excerpts of Eclogue 1 by Virgil, Paul Alpers, translator
You, Tityrus, under the spreading, sheltering beech,
Tune woodland musings on a delicate reed:
We flee our country's borders, our sweet fields,
Abandon home; you, lazing in the shade,
Make woods resound with lovely Amaryllis.
O Melibee, a god grants us this peace --
A god to me forever, whose altar
A young lamb from our folds will often bleed.
He has allowed, you see, my herds to wander
And me to play as I will on shepherd's pipes.
Not jealous, but amazed am I -- our fields
Are everywhere in turmoil: look at me,
Sick, driving my goats, scarcely leading this one.
Here in thick hazels, laboring on bare rock,
She left the flock's one hope, her twins just born:
A curse well augured, had our wits not been
Blind to the oaks struck down by heaven above ...
Luck old man! your lands will then remain
Yours and enough for you, although bare rock
and slimy marsh reeds overspread the fields.
Strange forage won't invade your heavy ewes,
Nor foul diseases from a neighbor's flocks ...
Ah, but we others leave for thirsty lands --
Still, you could take your rest with me tonight,
Couched on green leaves: there will be apples ripe,
soft roasted chestnuts, plenty of pressed cheese,
Already rooftops in the distance smoke,
And lofty hills let fall their lengthening shade.