Aug 26 -- There was rain in the night, and the reward is a parade of tiny, translucent, umbrella mushrooms down the trail to the marsh. I bend down to look, and up close they are a school party of Japanese maidens giggling and pattering down a mountain path to view the morning glories. As I get back up, there is a rush of wings, and out on the marsh a blue heron is arriving. It swerves, dangles its long feet for an instant, patterning the still water, and then magically, in a way that you can't see even while you are watching, it turns itself upright, and adopts the classic heron pose.

Marshes, swamps, wetlands, are among the strangest symbols of our time. Throughout history they have been dreaded, avoided, and drained. They have been seen, rightly, as breeding grounds for disease, and hiding places for outlaws and renegades (Americans will recall Frances Marion, the Swamp Fox). My city drained every marsh it could in the 19th century, and the 20th century has seen vast elimination of swamps everywhere. Yet, at the end of the century, environmentalists have convinced many people that they should be protected, and valued again; and the Wendigo Marsh where the heron perches this morning is an example of that rehabilitative spirit.

But perhaps this is all too easy. I am reading (again) Peter Guralnick's books on the country and blues circuit, the juke joints and the grinding road. It is clear from that that the essence of marketing and advertising and the golden ring is to take the strange dangerousness of marginal music and frame it so that it will not go out of control. The thrill must be there, but not so as to threaten anything, really. So it is with marshes, and nature in general: now that we are no longer threatened by diseases from open waterways, and can drive on bridges over swamps, we are prepared to let the loser live, but on our terms. The heron, like Waylon Jennings, is allowed to live, to provide us with a momentary thrill, but under no circumstances can it be allowed to break the whole thing wide open.
(p.t.)