Monday, July 7, 2014

Sustainable St. Croix,
part of a continuing series
Art and Culture

The Little Free Library construction is completed and the official and unofficial signs hung. I lost a vote to those with a more literal and less "pun"ishing bent. I wanted to name it the "Lenting" Library.

Take a book, leave a book
Photo by J. Harrington

As long as we're considering cultural development here in the St. Croix Watershed, (that is what we're doing, you know) there's a cultural event this Friday afternoon / evening to which you're invited:
Open to the public, all ages welcome!
Please mark your calendars for Friday, July 11.
St. Croix River Valley Imagining
WHERE: St. Croix Falls Public Library, 230 S. Washington St, St. Croix Falls, WI, 54024
WHEN: Friday, July 11, 4pm to 6pm
(followed by a press conference at The Overlook)
Facebook Invite HERE.
I'm looking forward to participating in the Imagining and can neither confirm nor deny the rumor that I may have a role at the press conference playing a farmer in the future. This is part of a broader, nationwide effort being brought to US by the Department of Arts and Culture (USDAC). We've written about the need to create great cities to help conserve great natural places. We haven't written that they need to be large cities. After all, we've long been proponents of E.F. Schumacher's Small Is Beautiful approach.

Common milkweed (Asclepias syrica)
Photo by J. Harrington

To use the small is beautiful as a segue, Dot Earth (sidebar on the right) has a worthwhile and enjoyable read about monarchs. Have you seen any monarchs (caterpillars or adult) this Summer? We've got the milkweed shaping up but not quite "ripe" yet so maybe they'll be here soon. Meanwhile, Edward Hirsch seems to have a handle on the relationship between a branch library and imaginings.

Branch Library

By Edward Hirsch

I wish I could find that skinny, long-beaked boy
who perched in the branches of the old branch library.

He spent the Sabbath flying between the wobbly stacks
and the flimsy wooden tables on the second floor,   

pecking at nuts, nesting in broken spines, scratching
notes under his own corner patch of sky.

I'd give anything to find that birdy boy again
bursting out into the dusky blue afternoon

with his satchel of scrawls and scribbles,
radiating heat, singing with joy.


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