Greetings, all. I’m listening to the thunder of flying squirrel feet in our attic. The squirrels have replaced the bats who owned the attic for 40 years, and the new residents seem to have made …
Greetings, all. I’m listening to the thunder of flying squirrel feet in our attic. The squirrels have replaced the bats who owned the attic for 40 years, and the new residents seem to have made themselves at home amidst my husband’s Lego creations and my boxes of family lore.
The cats, who own the rest of the house, do not often venture up there. Perhaps it’s the sheer force of numbers: the squirrels may be small, but there are so very many of them. Or maybe it’s the peculiar smell that drifts down the stairs in the hottest months of summer. The squirrels have staked out their territory; they leave traces of their presence; they have created a home for themselves in our home.
Right now, we’re coexisting. That might change, because life is fluid. But for the moment, we’ve all found a balance.
For this issue of Upper Delaware, let’s look at the traces we leave. There’s a story about the impact of the Dorflinger Glass Factory on the community of White Mills, PA, and on the tables of the rich in 19th century America. There’s the garden that has sprung up in Callicoon, courtesy of volunteers; the flowers reappear year after year, reminding us how much people care.
Humans leave other traces, and those can harm. Look at what happened to the passenger pigeons. Hunters in Sullivan County contributed their share to that loss.
Then admire the sheer vastness, the incredible wonder, of life in the region, at the interconnectedness of it.
Or perhaps this is to your taste. Restaurants throughout the area have given us the food of other cultures, there to share. Do you just need something unusual? That’s here too. This is how we eat now, and what we consume generates other traces of our presence.
The Upper Delaware River Valley has so much to offer. Take a moment and learn.
Upper Delaware Magazine