Today is the final day to make your voice heard on an issue that may very well threaten the health of the James River above (and down into) Richmond. The Virginia Department of Environmental Quality (DEQ) is finalizing the Bremo Power Station coal ash pond dewatering permit.

Environmental groups, like the James River Association and others, and concerned citizens worry that Dominion’s intentions to dump millions of gallons of wastewater per day into the James River could have significant negative consequences for the river.

According to c-ville.com: Alleging that the wastewater potentially being discharged from a Fluvanna County power station will contain coal ash and toxic metals, some are worried about the environmental impacts on the river in which many swim, fish and boat. The Department of Environmental Quality has issued the permit, but is allowing comments from the public until December 14.

Pat Calvert, JRA’s Upper James Riverkeeper, told c-ville.com, “I will certainly not swim in those waters…Those who may ingest or be exposed to discharged wastewater could be affected by these substances, particularly while they are less diluted and in higher concentrations. Fishing could be affected through the effect on the game fish and the forage.”

Calvert says millions of Virginians rely on the river for drinking water, recreation and economic value. Various levels of danger are associated with each chemical present in the coal ash wastewater—lead, arsenic, mercury, selenium, boron and thallium—that could be dumped and, though the DEQ will require the chemicals to be diluted and present below certain levels, he says most of the contaminants are heavy metals with varying levels of toxicity, radioactivity and potential for damage to water quality and human and aquatic health.

But there’s still time to make your voice heard: Click here and email the DEQ’s Beverly Carter and call upon DEQ to protect the James River from toxic releases. Tell them that we need the necessary improvements in this permit before it is issued. Click here for more.

So…what if we change the story? What if we set it on a submarine? Then all the characters – all those generations of heroes and villains – live within those fragile walls. Outside stretch the deep waters, black and cold and deadly; but inside they’ve gathered everything needed to survive.

There are sunlamps, and greenhouses where crowded plants produce oxygen and food, their roots filtering clean water from waste. Indeed, there is food and drink and space enough, not just to survive, but to thrive. There is work to do, but also ample rest and entertainment. There is music and dance and cooking and games and story-telling of every form. Within this bubble of protection people have love affairs, and make art, and raise families, and throw celebrations, and there are resources enough for nearly anything they want. But not everything.

There are, of course, limits.

There is only so much space; only so many places to put waste. Water can only be filtered so fast. So the residents rely on common sense. It would be disastrous, for example, to harm the greenhouses.  Too much depends on that system. Everything, in fact.

And while residents could explore the sciences and engineering, study medicine and innovate tools; they couldn’t poison their closed atmosphere. It wouldn’t be reasonable to build machines that generate toxic smoke. Certainly people couldn’t light their living quarters by burning barrels of oil.

In this story, it would be someone’s assigned job to monitor the ships’ life systems. A scientist would conduct air and water tests; someone would monitor a thermostat on board. Then, one day, they notice an uptick. They check their figures. They check their equipment. They reset the system. They watch again. Sure enough. The temperature’s rising. Not in every room on board, but in most; the common spaces. The water’s warming. And it’s warming faster. It’s messing with the carefully balanced life-systems. It’s in the red zone. The scientists sound the alarm.

Now…imagine we’re inside this story. How do we react? Do we complain about the alarm bell? So shrill and unending. Do we mock the anxious scientists, plug our ears, and light another barrel?

Perhaps we are barrel-salesmen, so high on fumes we hallucinate about gilded escape pods for our family and closest friends?

But no. We’re the folks for whom a perfect day is one spent outside. We’re the reluctant heroes, right? The cheerful and competent protagonists who only want to be home with our families, but rally anyway because if we learned anything from our ancestors it’s this: don’t hide in the closet when the house is ablaze.

Well, it’s getting hot in here. 2015 is on its way to being far and away the warmest year in recorded history (that’s 136 years of data) according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

Next month, the nations of the world meet in Paris to discuss this long-sounding alarm, and each is bringing to the table a number; how many burning barrels they’ll extinguish in their corner of our sub. But there’s a rub. According to an early November report from the United Nations Environment Programme – those scientists monitoring our temperature gauge – the reductions promised by all 150 attending nations total only half those needed to avoid global climate crisis (i.e. the predicted point of no return).

That seems willfully unwise.

But this month brings good news too. President Obama’s rejection of the proposed Keystone Pipeline delays efforts to burn 100’s of billions of barrels of Canadian tar sands oil. It also revealed the power of public action — in Washington and New York and Richmond — to ensure that our scientists are heard.

So…what next? Offshore wind power? Solar? Cycling? Local agriculture? Opportunities to squelch fires abound. What matters isn’t what we promote, but that we do it now, and together. We need to be smart and brave and put in more effort than any of us wants to; because if we fail in this, our descendants face drought and flood. They face storms and fire. They face crop failures and wars over water and grain.

It’s time to look each other in the eye and say aloud, This is it. Because we’re heroes. Right? Reluctant. Unsure. But heroes still. We’re sure as hell not the ones who shut the door, turn up the TV, and try to drown out that damned alarm.

Coyote near Huguenot Flatwater boat ramp. Credit: Science in the Park

I’ve lived in neighborhoods by the south bank of the James River for almost 12 years, and during that time there have been periodic whispers of coyotes along the river corridor in the James River Park. There was a the neighbor who claimed they saw one walking the train tracks and the discussion on the neighborhood website about a ‘yote walking down an alley in the middle of the night.

Having talked to many Department of Game and Inland Fisheries biologists over the years, I never doubted that the rumors were true. Coyotes are extremely adaptable animals. They can live and breed in a huge variety of habitats.

Still, the news in this morning’s T-D that a coyote was caught on camera near the Huguenot Flatwater are of the James River Park was very cool news. Kudos go to the Friends of James River park, VCU and the James River Park System for setting up the motion-activated trail cameras that caught the furry critter in action. Those cams have been capturing wildlife going about their business in park units for months, and they’re all available to view at the Friends’ website.

Coyotes in the park — another reason the outdoors scene in Richmond is so cool!

Years ago, I wrote a column in the Times-Dispatch about Tuckahoe Creek on the Henrico/Goochland line, describing it as a hidden gem more accessible for wildlife than humans. Well, it looks like that could change, although luckily not too much.

The T-D’s Laura Kebede wrote in Wednesday’s paper that 26 years after it was approved in a bond referendum, Tuckahoe Creek Park soon will become a reality. Construction of the park, about 20 acres along the creek at the end of Ridgefield Parkway in western Henrico, is slated to start in December and be completed in April, Kebede wrote. Several attempts to develop a larger swath of land suitable for parking, access to the creek and other amenities failed, said Neil Luther, director of the Division of Recreation and Parks.

I remember seeing mallards, wood ducks and other waterfowl when I visited for my column back in 2009. And the landowner talked about the beaver dams in the area and bass fishing from the bank. The creek in that area is wide, shallow and marshy, creating incredible wildlife habitat. Only after rains is it navigable for canoes and kayaks, but when it’s up, it’s a gorgeous float, I was told.

On a recent mountain bike ride, James River Park Superintendent Nathan Burrell told me about some audio tours recently developed featuring of different places in the JRPS. They’re narrated by Ralph White, he said. History, ecology and geology discussed as well as other noteworthy aspects of places like Pony Pasture, Belle Isle and the Floodwall (and more). I had intended to write a piece about the tours then, but it totally slipped my mind until today when the Friends of the James River Park mentioned them in their monthly newsletter.

There are layers of history on Belle Isle that the walking tour will help you discover. Credit: Ed Holden

Here are the details from their post: For your free walking-tour pleasure, you need only a mobile device and an internet connection. You’ll hear about what you are seeing, how it got there, and some of the reasons why the JRPS is special and worth preserving! Listen to any of the tours listed below at www.righthereonce.org:

• The Ecology of the River and Shoreline: A Sound History for the Trails of The Pony Pasture
• Indians To Industry: A Sound History For Belle Isle
• A Sound History For The Manchester Flood Wall
• Geology of the Fall Zone: North Geo Tour
• Geology of the Fall Zone: South Geo Tour

The first three tours were written and narrated by Ralph White and produced and developed by Vaughn Whitney Garland with financial support from The Friends of the James River Park. The two geology tours were produced by Anne Wright for the Science In The Park website, developed by Vaughn Whitney Garland, and narrated by Ralph White.

How is time like butter?

They both fly.

That was bad, but I make no apologies. Seriously, though, the last few days of summer are slipping through our fingers. Pretty soon we will all stop complaining about the sweltering heat and drenching humidity and start complaining about the bitter cold and (dare I mention it?) snow of winter. Sure, there’s the brief interlude of Fall/Autumn/Pumpkin Spice Season, but I’ve always thought of Fall as the Sunday of seasons. It’s great and all, but there’s the constant knowledge that Monday (Winter) is coming that kind of ruins it for me.

So join me, as we bask in the last few rays of sunshine before the leaves start falling, the snow starts falling, and the politicians start politicking. You’ve already seen that I love birds, but what you might not know is that I also really like bugs. Since I know that etymology isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, I figure I can find some common ground on one of the few bugs that we can all agree are awesome: butterflies. And summer in Richmond means the Butterflies LIVE! Exhibit at Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens.

Butterflies are a lot like birds, when you think about it. They both have wings and enjoy flowers. They both start off as small little worm-like things that eventually build a small shell for themselves, liquefy themselves, and then emerge as brightly colored winged creatures before they have to manually assemble their own nose (proboscis) in order to eat… Ok, maybe they’re not that much like birds, but I still think they’re really cool.

For a mere $12 for adults or $8 for children 3-12 (free for members!) you get both the awesome experience of the number 2 public garden in North America (as voted by readers of USA Today), but you also get to be surrounded by a collection of brightly colored butterflies from around the world and their not-as-bright-but-still-really-cool moth cousins. Hurry, the exhibit ends October 11!

For many years, the James River Regional Cleanup has attracted hundreds of volunteers who roam the shorelines on foot and cruise the water in boats to clean up trash, an effort that is a tremendous benefit to the river, its wildlife, and the people who visit and enjoy the river. The upcoming cleanup is Saturday, Sept. 12. Registration opens at 8:30 a.m. and the cleanup begins at 9. The best part: They provide lunch!

The 2013 Perseid meteor shower in Malaysia.

I don’t know why they call meteor showers ‘showers.’  It’s really more of a trickle, and often just an arrhythmic drip.  A dash of light in the sky here, a dash there, almost always occurring in whatever direction you aren’t looking.  At some point in the night the person you’re with will shoot a finger towards the sky and exclaim, “There!  Did you see that?”  You’ll reply with a hearty, “Yeah, I saw it”, and spend the next five minutes silently cursing yourself for choosing that moment to be looking in the complete opposite direction.

An astronomer would probably correct me, saying that it is, in fact, exactly like a shower, but that we’re just not close enough to view it that way.  That’s fine, but if U2 is performing at the top of Mount Everest, I wouldn’t advertise it to the people of Nepal as a free concert.  I wouldn’t suggest they set their alarms to go off at three o’clock in the morning, drive to an open field, and cup their hands around their ears.  And the next morning, when they say they couldn’t hear squat, I wouldn’t reply, “Well, you weren’t close enough to hear it.”

Incorrectly titled and falsely advertised as they may be, I actually really enjoy meteor showers, if for no other reason than the opportunity they provide for adventuring out in the middle of the night, laying in the bed of my truck, and staring at the sky.  Meteors or no meteors, being outdoors while the rest of the noisy world sleeps is as peaceful a scene as one can hope to inhabit without going on a vacation.

Meteor showers, like the Perseid shower of this past week, allow me to do this free of judgment.   If I wanted to do this, say, on a random Tuesday, I don’t think I’d have an easy time explaining what I’m doing to others.  When it comes to astronomical events, the term ‘light pollution’ goes a long way, but I don’t see it getting me very far when I use it on my wife as the reason I’m driving out to the country in the middle of the night with a makeshift bed under my arms.

“It’s 3:00 a.m., and you’re doing what?”

“Just grabbing a few pillows and blankets, driving out to the country, laying in the bed of the truck, staring at the sky.”

“Why?”

“It’s relaxing.”

“Why can’t you do this in the driveway?”

“Light pollution.”

I’m not exactly sure what she would say next, but I don’t think it would be anything close to, “Oh.  Good point, honey.  Drive safe.”

The inevitable conversation with the policemen who happens upon my parked truck would probably go in a similar fashion.  Even after I use the flashlight he’s using to blind me with as an example of what I’m talking about, he’ll probably still tell me to hit the road.  Of course, I could always just explain that I’m there to watch a meteor shower.  I’d point quickly at the sky and say, “There!  Did you see that?”  He, looking up at the sky, would respond, “Yeah, I saw it”, and then continue on his way, silently cursing himself.

The work near the Low Line’s eastern end.

I rode out along the first section of the Virginia Capital Trail in Richmond the other day. It’s the portion that runs along Dock Street, from about Bottom’s Up Pizza to Great Shiplock Park. I was really excited to see the progress made on what I’ve heard called the “Low Line Beautification Project.”

Where the Capital Trail runs under the elevated rail line, the weedy, ragged canal bank is being replaced with thousands of (mostly) native shrubs, plants and trees.

I remembered hearing about the project earlier this year, so when I got home I Googled around to find out more. It’s a collaborative effort led by a non-profit group called Capital Trees, and the work along the “Low Line” is actually part of a $825,000, five-year effort at East End beautification funded almost entirely with private money. RVA News recently ran a great feature about the project:

“This was where Lincoln landed when he came to claim Richmond,” said (Jeannette) McKittrick (of Capital Trees). “It’s an important area to Richmond industrial history. It’s where the tobacco barges came in and out (the slips are still there underneath those weeds), and there’s also a real environmental opportunity there.”

Work along the train tracks that cross Kanawha Canal onto Chapel Island.

The Low Line work was first announced in October of last year, and has certainly been given a boost by the UCI World Cycling Championships coming to Richmond next month. But if it can be maintained going forward, when put next to Great Shiplock Park, Chapel Island and all the work going on with the almost-finished Capital Trail in the area, the ambitious project has a chance to be the capstone for an area that just a couple of years ago, looked pretty rough.

As far as the landscape of Low Line, they’ve used mostly native plants, wrote Susan Howson, of RVA News. McKittrick envisions a space that can be friendly to both humans and wildlife –“Essentially, it’s a 5 1/2 acre riparian buffer. It’s a filter for water, and with all these native plants, we’re going to have native bugs and birds and try and restore some of the ecosystem.”

The Va. Capital Trail continues east from Great Shiplock Park.

If you haven’t seen the “Low Line” project taking shape, head down to Great Shiplock Park (directions are in the link) and start walking back west toward downtown. You can’t miss it.