Landscapes Lost and Found - Agri-culture: Reconnecting People, Land and Nature - page 20

Holly and mistletoe carry magical meanings, and are associated with both
pagan and Christian festivals. May blossom brings bad luck when brought
into the house; daisies are fashioned into chains by children; algae and pine
cones are used for weather forecasting; weld and woad for yellow and blue
dyes; samphire for glass-making; silverweed for aching feet; junipers and
sloes for flavouring gin; hellebores for treating worms, and nettles for
arthritis; and holly wood is valued for its power over horses. Look hard,
and it is possible to find traditions associated with most plants and animals
- some strange and mythical, others with more obvious empirical truths. 36
The knowledge we have about plants and animals is extraordinary. They
are a connection between us and place, between memory and identity,
between myth and meaning. Not all are traditional or old. Recent
years have, for example, seen the widespread use of young crack willow
to make living seats and cribs, and red poppies are worn to remember war
casualties, originating from World War I. The important thing is that
plants and animals play roles in culture beyond those of obvious economic
purpose. But when the plant is lost forever, the tree is cut down or the weed
removed, then the culture associated with it goes, too. Equally, when the
cultural knowledge disappears, or is replaced with something else, then
another reason for preserving biological diversity is lost. It is sad that so
many rural customs and festivals no longer carry any significance in our
modern world. At one time, they were a central part of community life. 37
But such diversity of knowledge and meaning can only arise when the
landscape is itself diverse. A monoscape of highly controlled and large-scale
farming has no room for wild foods or their cultural significance. It neither
wants them nor needs them. So what is lost when they go is not just a weed
or two. It is something of a culture - a connection between people and
land lost forever, save for a few lingering memories in dusty topics.
Language and Memory on the Frontier
Many stories about nature and our Earth are embedded in local languages.
Language and land are part of people's identities, and both are under
threat. There are 5000-7000 oral languages spoken today, only about a
half of which have more than 10,000 speakers each. 38 The rest, about
3400 languages, are spoken by only 8 million people, about one tenth of
1 per cent of the world's population. The top ten spoken languages now
comprise about half of the world's population. A great deal of linguistic
diversity is thus maintained by a large number of small and dwindling
communities. They, like their local ecologies and cultural traditions, are
under threat. Here, there is a vicious circle. As languages come under