We live in north Jersey, not far from landfills made famous locally by made families, and nationally by The Sopranos.
Part of the landfill has been reclaimed as DeKorte Park, and while folks around here pretend that the wetlands have been reclaimed, the chemical undertones at low tide expose its damage.
(I clam. I know the fecund smell of a healthy mudflat. It’s getting there, but the hint of halocarbons under the fecundity betray the spin of those paid to fool us.)
And here amidst the human damage bloom some snowdrops, a reminder that spring is coming and that renewal is possible.
But it’s late January and the snowdrops come too early now.