As I’ve mentioned before, I take the train to work every day. Standing around the Timonium train platform every morning isn’t exactly the most exciting thing in the world, but there’s one thing about it that always makes it pretty pleasant: the thick grove of trees growing around it. Just off the back of the platform runs a small stream, and surrounding that stream is a dense little patch of forest running along the entire stretch, creating a natural barrier between the platform and the parking lot behind it. The grove has several nice old trees of a pretty good size, and the stream, of course, has allowed a wide variety of undergrowth to sprout up along its edges. The grove is peaceful, the plants are pretty and interesting, and the wildlife in the area loves it.
Or, I guess I should say, it was all of those things. Coming home from work the other day, I got off the train to be met with a horrifying sight: the grove had been decimated. And I mean that in the appropriate use of the word - only about 10% of what was there previously remained. Workers in orange vests had felled most of the trees, and they had completely stripped all of the undergrowth out. Where once had been a rich tangle of green, there was no only a dirt-bare hillside leading down to a stream choking on the remains of the trees that had once sheltered it. Instead of a wall of verdant life, now I could see straight through into the ugly parking lot beyond.
I was utterly stunned. I could not comprehend why someone would even think of doing something like this.
Coming back the next morning, they had cleared out even more. Now only a handful of trees remained, and they looked woefully thin and alone. Even though they were left standing, they had all of their lower branches stripped away as well. It was then that it occured to me why this had probably been done; the State Fair was starting the next day, and the MTA was actively encouraging people to take the Light Rail right to the back gate. This was someone’s twisted idea of beautification, a way to make the platform “safer” for everyone by taking away anywhere a nasty boogyman could hide. Instead of using some of the many transit guards that seem to spend their days idly wandering the streets of the city, they instead opted to destroy a little haven of natural beauty.
I stood on the platform that morning looking down at the stream that was once so cheerful, but was now a painful reminder of what was. An ugly concrete drainage pipe that I had not even known was there was now exposed. The lovely blue berries that I had been trying to identify the week before were completely gone, with no trace remaining. The sylphs, who on most days laughed and sang their mysterious songs as they fluttered around the water now sat on the edge of the embankment looking like they had nothing left to live for. One of them was even smoking (don’t ask me how they got a cigarette). Another was quietly weeping, it’s faerie wings blotted brown with the dust that was being kicked up. The orange-vested workers paid them no mind as they continued their swath of urban improvement.
I wrote a letter to the MTA seeking answers, just wanting to hear whatever beaurocratic rationale led to this travesty. Their autoresponder told me it could be up to two weeks until someone gets back to me, but I have a feeling I’ll be waiting a lot longer than that.
