The Fight for Carpenter Park
by Angela Mao
“In its full spring glory,
Multiflora rose blooms with the emergence of crabapple trees,
While the fields of golden top flowers buoyantly burst back to life
But the threat is everlasting, pervasive
Concealed throughout the park.
Porcelain berry,
Berries bursting with rich hues of violet and blue
A tender rope, a delicate vine
Softly entangles its beloved
Creeping up the trunk, unyielding in its pursuit.
Sweet in its deception,
An enchanting wift of honeysuckle
Lures one into a daze
Before sickly-sweet golden blooms
Form a smothering tangle under the sun.
A steady march of infantry
Orderly storms up the flanks of a tree
Weighed down by the brunt of the attack,
One by one, each crumples from the strike
Overwhelmed by the zealous Kudzu.
Sweat and tears poured into our defense –
Acquainted through countless action,
We use the trowel and the shears
For they are our sword and our shield
To leave our enemy
Torn from the soil –
Left to wither in the barren field.
But like Pyrrhus of Epirus, victorious at Asculum
Gazing out at the battlefield;
A single plot may be freed
But the seeds are already embedded
Awaiting to emerge from slumber.
For the golden laurel was not his to keep
The loss of his men! A sight to weep.
Learn his lesson, my dear
For you cannot stop the onslaught of nature –
Invaders are already in our midst.”
Gritting my teeth, I tugged at the English ivy vine, attempting to pull out the stubborn root from the frozen February ground. Unfortunately, my bare hands alone were no match for the monstrosity that had carpeted the forest floor and was now on its way to choke out an innocent oak tree. Fuming at the vine’s blatant refusal to cooperate, I tried pulling from a different angle, but to no avail.
“You know, maybe you should try these instead.”
Sarah, a veteran at Carpenter Park, who was committed to the war against invasive plants, knowingly handed me a pair of shears. I felt myself flush, having embarrassed myself already on my first day on the job. Thanking her profusely, I directed my attention back towards the nefarious plant. I looked over my shoulder and copied Julie’s actions: Cut the vine at the base, then use the shovel to dig around the root to relieve it of the hard dirt. Rescuing the venerated tree from the impudent vine’s stranglehold, I felt proud of myself.
I ended up in that position on that cold February morning because of my involvement with the Long Island Sierra Club, which had offered me an opportunity to volunteer every weekend with Go Native LI. In the cold of winter, I had doubts about whether we could possibly win the battle.
However, when spring came, Carpenter Park began to show itself in full glory. Multiflora rose began to bloom with the emergence of crabapple trees. The fields of goldentop flowers buoyantly burst back to life.
Beaming, Sarah exclaimed, “Look! If we haven’t done all that work earlier in the year, a lot of these plants would be in trouble!”
I agreed and couldn’t help but admire our work. Carpenter Park welcomed me to hands-on environmentalism and introduced me to fascinating plants that I might otherwise never have noticed. The shiny bottom of the leaf indicated that the vine was porcelain berry; the smooth, oval leaf shape indicated Japanese honeysuckle, and the best way to distinguish between Oriental bittersweet was the pattern of the leaves on the vine. I felt the sweet satisfaction of knowing all this intimate information about plants because I had earned their acquaintance through action.
Every season presented a different challenge. In the summer, I removed the endless tendrils of porcelain berry from the shade of the trees, while in the winter, removing the wisteria before the weather started getting warm again was the goal. To adapt, my eyes became alert to the most elusive invading plants, sneaking up in the brush, while my hands became more adept with the tools.
More often than not, after a few hours of work, I’d look up and feel my heart sink at what little progress my efforts had produced. Yes, this tiny section of the park was clear of most harmful plants, but it seemed to be nothing compared to the vast stretches of land still under siege. This felt tantamount to a Pyrrhic victory, “winning the battle but losing the war.” Accepting defeat and concluding that the invasive plants would win no matter what, was clearly the easier option. Did the fate of this tiny Long Island park really matter that much?
Stepping away from the battle scene to gain some perspective, I came to the realization that while environmental protection requires large-scale policy reforms, it also literally requires “grassroots” responsiveness. So, as one who volunteered to work with Carpenter Park’s grassroots and ivy roots, I continued pulling and clipping invasive plants with all of my strength. During my school breaks, I entered the park fully galvanized to work my way through another section. Even as seasons passed and plants wilted and bloomed again and again, I persisted in this ongoing battle. I’ve learned that change isn’t always a grand, sweeping affair; rather, it is the culmination of countless hours of small, individual actions.
About
Angela is a senior at Syosset High School. Having conducted environmental stewardship projects with the Sierra Club and Go Native LI, she is passionate about the environmental issues her community is facing. Being a Discovery Guide Leader at the New York Aquarium has fostered a deep appreciation of nature and wildlife conservation within her (which is why her go-to is always a nature documentary!). Her work with ocean rights extends even further with her internship at the Earth Law Center and her involvement with the Youth Advisory Council for the UN Ocean Decade. In her free time, Angela enjoys photography, watching detailed film critiques on YouTube, hanging out with her friends, and biking. Angela hopes to become a sustainable city designer/urban planner or an environmental engineer to integrate nature with the bustling cities of the future.