08-23-2023 Council Packet - Laserfiche WebLink

Home Browse Search

Another way I get my bearings is to look at maps or aerial photographs. I recently came upon an aerial photo taken of Little Canada in 1957. What I see in that picture is very different from what I know of my town now. In the photo I notice how little urban development existed in 1957; there were relatively few houses, fewer roads, much open space and many agricultural fields. I know there were also environmental problems then too. I recently read that the low point, environmentally speaking, of the Mississippi River was during the early 1900s. Raw sewage and other pollutants were dumped then directly into the river, sometimes causing mats of refuse to accumulate on the surface downstream from the Twin Cities. A public outcry in response to this problem led to the establishment of the first sewage treatment plant in St. Paul in 1938. As I reenter the Little Canada of 1957 depicted in that aerial photo, I imagine things that existed then that would trouble me now—dust from dirt roads and agricultural fields, pollution of lakes and streams from poorly-designed or malfunctioning septic systems, soil erosion due to tillage and other disturbances on the landscape, smoke and soot from coal- and wood-fired furnaces and refuse burning. But I also imagine positive things— fewer houses along the shores of area lakes, more natural wetlands that had not yet been drained for development, and little traffic noise from the major freeways because most of those had not yet been built. And if I stood beside St. Johns Church in 1957 and looked to the west, I would have seen an intact thirty-acre lake—Savage Lake. ****** Nor do I apologize for trying to speak at once about the geography of land and the geography of spirit. They are one terrain. —Scott Russell Sanders from the Preface to Staying Put (1993) Several years ago, while at the University of Minnesota, I took my students on field trips into agricultural areas of the region. I challenged them to ask questions of the farmers with whom we met—questions that could give the students insight into how these people viewed their farms and their agricultural practices. One question has especially stayed with me over the years: “Where is your farm within its watershed?” Some farmers could answer this question immediately and describe in detail how water flowed over their farms and where it went after it left them. A few, however, had little to offer in response to the question, and I must admit that I too would have had difficulty answering it then with respect to the location of my house within its watershed. Now I know my house is near the upper end of the Lake Gervais Subwatershed portion of the Ramsey-Washington Metro Watershed District. About a half-mile north (and uphill) from my house is Savage Lake. During my time of living in Little Canada, I’ve had little connection to that lake, although I pass it almost every day. But this lake has become for me a symbol of the ecological struggles faced by my watershed and community—by my place. A little history is in order here.