David Hines
To everything there is a season
David Hines
The new growth of spring is happening around us. It brings to mind traditions of the quickening.
In old England, it was common to burn off the furze in spring. This would permit new growth upon which sheep could graze. In the American west a similar practice has been used upon prairie grasses, native species that have long been exposed to fires sparked by lightning. The fire does not burn down to the roots, but merely eliminates the surface growth. Until the land is disencumbered of the old, the new shoots have a difficult time germinating. Even in suburban lawns, thatch requires occasional removal to improve the health of the system.
Recently, schoolchildren in Denver had done a project of growing prairie grass. In the spring they applied for a permit to burn the grass. The city denied it, saying the burning would pollute; therefore, the school should bus the kids to a museum display on native grasses. The state environmental agency had a different view. It noted that the bus trip would pollute more than the grass fire. Pick your poison, but if you value your sanity don't try to reconcile conflicting governmental mandates.
This seems a relevant time to note St. Paul's words about putting away the things of a child. As we mature we no longer need the old accumulations in our life. They serve little purpose, and may impede progress.
Government doesn't understand this simple and ubiquitous maxim. A tax to fund the Spanish-American War is still being assessed. Once a law is enacted, it is deemed sacrosanct. Many have come to depend upon the enactment for their livelihood and oppose change no matter how atavistic the law.
Picture a Levantine location, occupied by settlement after settlement for centuries, or even millennia. A mound or hill (in archaeology, a "tel") would eventuate here, as layer after layer of new construction is added to the rubble of the old. Unlike with government, the old layers would merely sit there; they would not impinge upon the daily lives of the occupants.
If no previous laws were obviated, the residents would be simultaneously subject to the dictates of Christ, Mohammed, Zeus, Rimmon, and Astarte; Byzantine emperor, Moslem caliph, Roman proconsul, Hellenic autarch, Assyrian lord, and Canaanite king. There would be inevitable contradictions in the mandates, which nevertheless would remain in place and be selectively enforced.
There are those who consider this state of affairs "progressive." They would build new statutes upon the old, eliminating nothing. Removing the detritus would be regressive, they say.
Vibrant growth would seem to require a libertarian springtime. The moribund entanglements of old and outdated programs are a hefty burden, preventing the growth of new solutions. That a few hardy spouts emerge through the thatch is no proof of overall healthy vigor.
There is no constituency in DC for this necessary pruning. The system revolves around money, and no big money wants less special interest. If a constituency is to be heard, it must arise among the lowly citizens — the nominal bosses — who are weary of excessive regulatory and tax burden.
It's no surprise that those who live off the produce of others have little concept of what the production entails. Their raison d'ętre is to command, to enact new laws. They imagine that they can command even Nature. A couple years ago farmers delayed planting while they awaited Congress' decision on what crops would be most heavily subsidized. And Congress was in no hurry.
Those who value their lawns and gardens would be foolish to put government in charge of them. Why do we trust it with so many other aspects of our lives?
© David Hines
By
The new growth of spring is happening around us. It brings to mind traditions of the quickening.
In old England, it was common to burn off the furze in spring. This would permit new growth upon which sheep could graze. In the American west a similar practice has been used upon prairie grasses, native species that have long been exposed to fires sparked by lightning. The fire does not burn down to the roots, but merely eliminates the surface growth. Until the land is disencumbered of the old, the new shoots have a difficult time germinating. Even in suburban lawns, thatch requires occasional removal to improve the health of the system.
Recently, schoolchildren in Denver had done a project of growing prairie grass. In the spring they applied for a permit to burn the grass. The city denied it, saying the burning would pollute; therefore, the school should bus the kids to a museum display on native grasses. The state environmental agency had a different view. It noted that the bus trip would pollute more than the grass fire. Pick your poison, but if you value your sanity don't try to reconcile conflicting governmental mandates.
This seems a relevant time to note St. Paul's words about putting away the things of a child. As we mature we no longer need the old accumulations in our life. They serve little purpose, and may impede progress.
Government doesn't understand this simple and ubiquitous maxim. A tax to fund the Spanish-American War is still being assessed. Once a law is enacted, it is deemed sacrosanct. Many have come to depend upon the enactment for their livelihood and oppose change no matter how atavistic the law.
Picture a Levantine location, occupied by settlement after settlement for centuries, or even millennia. A mound or hill (in archaeology, a "tel") would eventuate here, as layer after layer of new construction is added to the rubble of the old. Unlike with government, the old layers would merely sit there; they would not impinge upon the daily lives of the occupants.
If no previous laws were obviated, the residents would be simultaneously subject to the dictates of Christ, Mohammed, Zeus, Rimmon, and Astarte; Byzantine emperor, Moslem caliph, Roman proconsul, Hellenic autarch, Assyrian lord, and Canaanite king. There would be inevitable contradictions in the mandates, which nevertheless would remain in place and be selectively enforced.
There are those who consider this state of affairs "progressive." They would build new statutes upon the old, eliminating nothing. Removing the detritus would be regressive, they say.
Vibrant growth would seem to require a libertarian springtime. The moribund entanglements of old and outdated programs are a hefty burden, preventing the growth of new solutions. That a few hardy spouts emerge through the thatch is no proof of overall healthy vigor.
There is no constituency in DC for this necessary pruning. The system revolves around money, and no big money wants less special interest. If a constituency is to be heard, it must arise among the lowly citizens — the nominal bosses — who are weary of excessive regulatory and tax burden.
It's no surprise that those who live off the produce of others have little concept of what the production entails. Their raison d'ętre is to command, to enact new laws. They imagine that they can command even Nature. A couple years ago farmers delayed planting while they awaited Congress' decision on what crops would be most heavily subsidized. And Congress was in no hurry.
Those who value their lawns and gardens would be foolish to put government in charge of them. Why do we trust it with so many other aspects of our lives?
© David Hines
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