WildOnes blueprints

When I first looked at those blueprints, I thought, well, I can do some of that. But the longer I look at them, I think nothing is stopping me from doing all of it. And more. This little quarter acre could serve hundreds of species of birds and pollinators, a little island for them where there is literally nothing now except shitty grass covering fantastic loamy soil that goes down as far as we could dig, four feet at least. Did you know that cheektowaga means place of crab apple trees? Even the nativists didn't mention that. The kind of soil I have is made only one way, by the death of many things that have turned themselves and history into nutrients, quietly waiting and churning and waiting some more, becoming richer in themselves as men paid no attention except to the airport. 

Maybe it wasn't my mother who put me here at all. She just heard it through the grapevine 🙏. I have tried to puzzle it out. But I have no eathly idea why I am here. I can make myself useful, though. Maybe that is the only reason, to be useful to a butterfly. A beautiful tiny reason of no obvious importance.

keep them on they toes