[Before landing in New England, my wife and I spent our entire lives in, and around, the military, so please forgive me if the following strolls ever-so-lightly into the land of military metaphors]
I have lived in New England for almost 15 years and in Cheshire County for a dozen of those. Before that, my life was a merry-go-round of moving vans, unpacking one day, repacking the next.
The lifestyle of an ex-vagabond brings with it an illness you never quite shake, the road trip bug. And when the bug strikes, it is impossible to ignore. When you’ve been moving your whole life, it can be seriously difficult to sit still.
However, since I became a New Englander (I know I don’t meet the sixth-generation requirement, but you guys are stuck with me), these requisite road trips have grown bittersweet. The open road calls, but as soon as I-91 hits Connecticut or Route 9 hits the New York border, a not-so-small part of me wants to turn the car around and head back to the home that New England has become. But why?
My Old Cheshire County Home
At night, I rest my head in an old farmhouse. I stroll past my kids’ old schools to meet my family of friends for a beer downtown. And, my wife and I pass weekends appointing our old house with local antiques and handmade crafts to suit. As wonderful as the life we’ve built is, I am not sure that it is the reason I feel at home when I am, well, home.
Most people don’t know this about me, but I have something of a superpower, though not necessarily an enviable one. I have the ability to see “developed” landscapes in their prior, untouched state. You could be forgiven for thinking this would be a peaceful power; however, when I am surrounded by “development,” my superpower responds like a visual air raid siren, signaling constant distress.
So I think really, that I am home when my superpower is at rest and my mind is at ease. I am home when I can walk along the Ashuelot north of Surry and not have to peer through a strip mall to see a forgotten sugarbush. I am home when I can stand atop Pitcher Mountain and pick out the small bits of civilization cuddled by nature instead of the other way around. In short, I am home when Mother Nature’s peace surrounds me.
However, that peace is not forever a certainty. The tranquility I feel on a stroll to Goose Pond can be taken away with the stroke of a pen (and a few weeks with a bulldozer). Home comes with a price, and that price is the vigilance of showing up, speaking out, and conserving as much of our home as possible.
What does that vigilance look like?
Vigilance can be... well, boring. In rooms across the county and around the world, meetings take place that are both vital and underattended. In these rooms, Mother Nature has no seat. Trees, streams, and wildlife are barred entry. So, those of us who understand must show up and speak out. As someone who is frequently the only conservationist in the room at decision-making time, we have to do better. We have to raise our voices.
I am not talking about screaming at the nearest construction site as you drive by (though that can be therapeutic). I am talking about showing up at City Council sessions if you live in Keene or Town Meeting if you are in the rest of the county. I am talking about joining your town’s Zoning Board (talk about impactful!) or your region’s Water District Board (yeah, that’s a thing). I’m talking about staying abreast of what happens in Concord, and if you don’t mind the drive, testifying at a committee hearing at the State House (it’s not as intimidating as it sounds, I promise). It is impossible to overstate the importance of being present and vocal whenever and wherever decisions are made.
In the face of development, conservation is crucial. Development is a machine; it chews up nature and spits out a mostly mundane collection of concrete boxes. But because development screams of dollars and cents and nature whispers of peace and harmony, their standoff is all too often a one-sided affair.
Conservation is the defense of those whispers, not for ourselves but for their own sake and for all time. Think about that! With the right mix of attendance, money, and effort, a place can simply be “in perpetuity.” Can there be a better feeling? Against the constant call of development, conservation is our line in the forest (Cheshire County sand being in short supply).
“Here we draw the line. Develop no further!”
Conserving the Cheshire County farms, fields, and forests that I, and we, call home isn’t just about showing up, however. Protecting all that makes Cheshire County so amazing requires the resources and toil of many. Thankfully, we are blessed with an abundance of individuals and organizations intent on holding the line that can always use your help: the Monadnock Conservancy, the Harris Center, and our towns’ Conservation Commissions, to name just a few.
Another line holder of which I can claim an ever-so-small part is the Cheshire County Conservation District (CCCD). The CCCD brings money in from around the country to support the county’s farmers, foresters, and families. I came on board at the District a few years ago, having witnessed the power of its multi-layered mission.
Personally, I have benefited from small-scale services such as money for Veterans at the Farmers’ Market and CSA assistance grants. At larger scales, I have seen the potential of CCCD benefits, such as farm equipment rentals and farming business planning help, to help Cheshire County’s farmers not just survive but thrive. Put simply, the Conservation District helps Cheshire County fight the fights that matter and has the expertise to connect those with questions and needs to those with answers and resources. Join us; we are always looking for help!
Whether it is the Conservancies, Conservation Commissions, the CCCD, or any of a dozen other organizations, there is a constant need for defenders to step up. So as a vagabond who has finally stopped wandering, I ask you to please remain vigilant, and please, please, please do not take the beauty of our home for granted. Lines must be drawn, Mother Nature mustn’t be voiceless, and... meetings must be attended (how’s that for a motivational last line?).
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