The Swedish wetlands are just a 15 minute walk from my mom-in-law’s place in Örebro. A hundred years ago, they came right up to the center of town and formed a moat around the medieval castle that now serves as government offices. Now, a large stream runs from the castle to the lake at the end of the marsh and is controlled by a sophisticated system of small locks and damns and built up land. Wetlands comfort me. They have not allowed Big Oil to destroy them yet. I’m from the American Deep South, and I find it strange to crunch into the icy marsh to grasp a cattail: the same plant as home. You can eat every part of that plant if you find yourself out here with no food after the apocalypse.
