Jim Fry

Be careful bringing milkweed onto your land. It spreads somewhat easily. If your cows eat it, or if you bale hay with milkweed in it, and the cows eat it, they could die.

-"One day I'm in the garden and I see a volunteer tomato. If that's not a sign it's warm enough for tomatoes I don't know what is."

Just because a seed from a previous year, sprouts, doesn't mean it won't die later if it gets too cold. Sometimes "listening to Nature" means having spent enough time (years) knowing the weather cycles of your area. Most often folk lore and guidebooks are based on real reason and experience. Paying attention to what others before you have learned, is also "listening.

I don't have concerns about cement being long term toxic. It becomes (at least basically?) inert when it dries. I have lots of concerns about using tires. I'll repost my 7 years old comment. --As for possible voids in cement use, use a vibrator to move the wet cement into any hollows.


I'm a historian. My family has been on this continent for 300 years, our family farms have been in this county since before Ohio was a State. We have a museum. One building is 220 yrs. old, another to 1800. One of the looms dates to 1740, a post master's cabinet dates to 1825. On my land I have watched old trees become new soil, corn fields become woods, ponds fill in just from plant matter build up. ---I tend to look at things long term. So, therefore, I really have a problem with using tires for building anything. Tires are made of all sorts of chemicals, all sorts of toxic chemicals. And in time they break down. And those chemicals end up in the water shed and soil. Building with tires might seem like a good idea for making use of something obnoxious, but the long-term consequences of such use is even worse. Even if it took a hundred years, or even a thousand, for the tires to decompose, sooner or later they will. So, in my opinion, recycling tires through a recycling center is good, recycling tires by burying them in the Earth, not so much. If you use cement, you're still covering earth, but at least you are not poisoning earth for the next hundreds of years.

I have done a fair amount of teaching in fields and forest. I take people out to show them things, they may have never seen before. I watch them as we walk along. And it is surprising how often folks break off branches that are in their way. Or grab a hand full of leaves and strip them from a tree. Or maybe just bend some tall grass over as their hands trail at their sides. They mostly don't seem to do those things maliciously. Most of the time they don't seem to give it a thought at all.

So, often, we'll stop, and I'll ask them if they would like someone walking by them and just casually rip out a hand full of their hair? They usually reply, that very rarely would they like that. I ask them if they would like being kicked, or have firewood broken against their side, or nails pounded into themselves so someone could build a treehouse. No, mostly not.

Then, maybe we'll sit down and I'll talk with them about the Woods. There is so much to learn, if you just become still. If you watch. Or Listen. There is so much going on around you, that you entirely miss as you bumble along talking loudly, staring at the ground so to be sure of your next step, being impolite to trees and grass by pinching and pulling them. Listen, and you'll hear the birds talk with each other. Maybe feel a slight wind as deer pass by. Or learn about bending with the storm. Or standing tall and strong when others might want you to fall.

The world, all the world, wants to talk with you. It wants to carry you and help you and teach you and learn from you and so much more. But you need to pay attention.

So to the question of "Do trees feel pain?" For me, I don't think so, not like we do. I'm quite certain they feel loss. Are aware of abuse. Are most especially knowing that there passes another uncaring, thoughtless being. I don't believe there is a pain like animals feel pain, or thoughts as we form thoughts. But there is certainly a knowing of thoughtlessness. And awareness of intent. And maybe even a sort of glow that comes of connection and care. The sharing of life in all life's forms and ways.

My Grandfather had nine children. My Father just six. I have nine children, like my Granddad. All of us, for generations, have been part of the solution. Those that have none, ... generally aren't.