By Bob Groeneveld

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Picture an insomniac Mother Nature in her bathrobe.

It鈥檚 about three in the morning, and stuff is buzzing around in her head, making it impossible for her to get to sleep.

She knows one of her kids has been turning up the thermostat on the oil furnace, and it鈥檚 been getting uncomfortably warm in parts of the house, especially in the attic and basement, where she keeps the plants and pets that like it a bit cooler.

She knows who鈥檚 doing it, but every time she asks, she gets, 鈥淲ho me? Nope. Not me. I鈥檓 not the one raising the temperature.鈥�

Or she gets, 鈥淢ust be one of your hot flashes. You know that happens sometimes. I can show you graphs and equations. It鈥檚 not my fault.鈥�

Or she gets the one that really burns her butt: 鈥淎re you feeling hotter? I don鈥檛 think so. I don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 hotter. Do you think it鈥檚 hotter? I don鈥檛 know where you鈥檙e getting that idea. It鈥檚 not hotter. Somebody鈥檚 lying to you.鈥�

And she thinks, 鈥淵ep. Somebody鈥檚 lying, alright.鈥�

It鈥檚 that dishonesty that really keeps her up nights. She worries about the kids鈥� future.

It鈥檚 like she ranted to her sister Mother Earth the other day, 鈥淭hey don鈥檛 get it. You and I will still be here when all is said and done. I mean, the heat won鈥檛 shift your plates at all. You鈥檙e already radioactive at your core, and let鈥檚 face it, they got all the oil and plastic and gunk they leave lying around from you in the first place, so none of this is actually going to affect you. And all it鈥檚 going to do to me is change me a bit. I鈥檒l move some of the plants upstairs from the kitchen, and I鈥檒l finally be able to grow some stuff in the basement. Sure, it鈥檒l be a bit rocky for a bit, but a few millennia of evolution, and you won鈥檛 even know there was ever a problem.

鈥淲e鈥檒l be okay鈥� but they鈥檒l be gone. And, darn it. I鈥檒l miss them. But what can you do? They don鈥檛 listen. Especially the old ones. They just don鈥檛 get it at all.鈥�

It was that 鈥淲hat can you do?鈥� that had her sitting up this night, a half a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, a wine glass in one hand, the TV remote in the other, all the problems of the biosphere laying siege on her pineal gland and blocking her melatonins.

Sleep was impossible. Again.

And I figure that鈥檚 when it happened. She was surfing through the channels when she stumbled on Logan鈥檚 Run, an old movie about a society where nobody is allowed to live past 30.

A light bulb 鈥� powered by sustainable wind energy and solar panels 鈥� came on in her head.

After some sober thought in the morning, Mother Nature figured that 30 was maybe a bit young for a cut-off.

鈥淢aybe 60 or 70 might wake them up,鈥� she mused aloud. 鈥淭his time.鈥�

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In a past life, Bob Groeneveld was editor of the 91原创 Advance and the Maple Ridge and Pitt Meadows Times. Now he writes when and what he feels like. He has been sharing his Odd Thoughts with readers for more than 40 years. Visit with him on Facebook.