A Sand County Almanac (1949) By Aldo Leopold

At age 63, I keep telling friends my retirement plans involve moving to a rural environment and becoming a hermit. They question my ability to do so, not to mention my very sanity. I follow-up with a question of my own: have you read Aldo Leopold’s Sand County Almanac?

Their questions address a legitimate concern, and I confess I share it. I’ve spent 40-some years living in urban environments -- Chicago, New York, and DC -- and mostly in high-rises. I can tell you in minute detail how the city comes alive in the morning. As the sun just begins to peek at Chicago from across the lake, the garbage trucks shift into gear, the El trains increase their schedules, and the birds begin to chirp (yes, cities have birds other than pigeons). By the time the rising sun starts to reflect off the glass towers, the coffee baristas and maintenance crews start arriving for work, joggers head for the lakefront, and the celebrants from the night have stumbled home. These raw urban scenes have their own beauty, and hold many memories – I have loved the city.

This contrasts sharply with Aldo Leopold’s description of sun rises on his farm in Sand County, Wisconsin.

Leopold is a founder of what we call the environmental movement. He’s credited with the philosophy of Land Ethic – viewing the natural habitat not as a commodity to be harvested, but as a community that we are a part of. The Almanac is about his farm from January through December. It is beautifully written, in a calming, folksy way.

It is interesting to note that John Muir, who is considered the “founder” of Yosemite National Park, was raised on a farm in Portage, Wisconsin, not far from Leopold's. This area, known as the Wisconsin Dells to most Chicagoans, can arguably lay claim to being the birthplace of the American environmental movement.

Members of my family will recognize that an interest in nature, botany and environmental issues is not new to me – though it has been an interest largely neglected most of my adult life because of a need to live in a big city. Throughout my Northwest Indiana childhood the big local debate was environmental: did we want “progress” defined as Bethlehem Steel, or “tree-hugging” defined as the creation of the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. The grand compromise won out – we got them both -- and for the most part it has worked out well, the exception to the rule on similar compromises.

So the question remains, when I retire in a few years, what do I want to wake up to: coffee in a garden, or coffee on a balcony?  I’m leaning heavily toward the garden.