A few years back,
people got upset about the maintenance of the grass on the Woodstock Village
Green. Committees were formed, plans were submitted, and action was taken. They
paved the whole thing over with nice pieces of flat bluestone. It is a lively installation, an engineering
feat of circles and squares and intermittent lovely floral plantings. This seems to have solved the mud problem
caused by trudging feet, and created a good place for human activity.
I am not against
activity, and I am not against solving problems with committees. I am not going to argue a case for or against
space for homegrown protests, teenage gatherings, music and drumming. I just want to state definitely that I miss
green. It used to look like this:
When I
was growing up here in the 1950's and 60's, people were not allowed to walk on the grass of the
Village Green. We could sit on the
benches, but not on the war memorial. Once upon a time, the only occasion when
people gathered in a group on the Village Green was at Christmas for a
candlelight community sing. Snow covered
the green grass, but it was always there ready to peek up again in the
spring. On Memorial Day, the green of
the grass would be the witness as the community parade stopped and paid respect
to the names listed on the war memorial.
The flag that stood at half-staff would be raised slowly. People did not stand on the grass. All summer, the Village Green would, for me,
represent the green perfection we could never achieve at home considering the
rocky nature of the soil and our disinclination to mow.
Times changed. People started to
question authority about everything, so standing on the grass and grinding it
down to mud made sense. The vetrans took
away the war memorial plaque and set it on a flagpole in the graveyard. Green
was banished in favor of the gray of stone. Stone is secure and reliable. It is
hard to kill. It is ancient and somewhat sad, but I won’t deny that it is
useful. Humans have used rocks for
millions of years as basic infrastructure and for monuments. However, with the passage of time, stone can
become dusty, and it can fracture. Stone
does not replace itself easily.
Stone can’t be substituted for
grass without creating a sea change.
Green grass is sweet to the senses.
It has a silent strength, and it is sparkly when wet with rain. I have heard it said that all greens go together; dark green leaves go
with light green moss, lime green goes with olive drab. Green appears youthful and healthy.
As
I drive by the center of town, I give the now buried Village Green a quick
glance. In the summer, it is always a busy
place. Everyone looks happy walking on the stones, but I still miss green. Perhaps, the Village Green is
going through a very long winter. The strange thing about living most of your
life in your hometown is that everything is a potential
re-visit. There is no end to “I remember
when’s”.
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