Our own seven wonders

THIS SUMMER in Lisbon, a private Swiss foundation announced the results of a global Internet poll to choose seven contemporary wonders of the world. Topping the poll of more than 100 million votes were the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal, and the 1931 statue Christ the Redeemer, which looms over Rio de Janeiro. The United Nations agency for world heritage sites, UNESCO, blasted the contest as a cheap gimmick. But sometimes cheap gimmicks have their uses; just look at speed dating. So here is a necessarily personal and quirky list of the Seven Wonders of Massachusetts, both natural and manmade.

The Great Salt Marsh. Vast and green and stretching from Gloucester to the New Hampshire border, these 17,000 acres of uninterrupted marsh form one of the richest ecosystems on earth. I love everything about this place, including its social history: how, before the Revolution, salt marsh hay was a cash crop that built fortunes for the canny entrepreneurs who exported it or charged for grazing rights. Today, Ipswich boasts the largest number of first period (1625-1725) homes in America, testament to the vibrant economy supported by these watery wonders. Plus, dried salt marsh hay is unparalleled as a mulch for the tomato garden.

Jordan Hall. Yes, Boston is home to one of the great symphony spaces in the world. But the New England Conservatory's Jordan Hall, at less than half the size, is the real jewel box for acoustic performance in Massachusetts. Opened in 1903 and seating 1,013, this gorgeous room is itself a fine-tuned instrument. Attending a performance is like sitting inside a violin. It has hosted all the greats: Pablo Casals, Rudolf Serkin, Marian Anderson, Isaac Stern. And, unlike the band box across Huntington Avenue, hundreds of student and faculty recitals each year are absolutely free

MIT. Forget that other college in Cambridge. MIT invented radar. And artificial skin. And the World Wide Web. Long before nerds were chic, scientists at MIT were making our lives better through chemistry, engineering, and physics. Today they are using technology to design answers to global concerns, from "social robots" that may help autistic children to the $100 laptop, which can be powered in places without electricity by a foot pedal. The place boasts 63 Nobel laureates and 29 MacArthur "geniuses." Visiting the Media Lab or even the List art gallery always leaves me breathless, longing for an additional five (or 10!) points of IQ.

The Big Dig. I know. It's a "wonder" that the whole $14 billion edifice hasn't collapsed from the weight of its own cost overruns and corruption. We "wonder" if it will ever be finished. But for all its celebrated flaws, the Central Artery depression is an engineering marvel. Twenty-nine miles of utility lines from 31 different companies had to be untangled and moved; 13 million cubic yards of soil was excavated; icy salt water was piped through the dirt to freeze the earth so tunnels could be bored under Fort Point Channel - all while the beating heart of a great city kept pumping above. There ought to be a museum somewhere on the reclaimed Rose Kennedy Greenway dedicated to the project's magnitude, and, yes, its magnificence.

The Citgo sign. I came to Boston as a 17-year-old student the year the Ritz-Carlton first allowed unescorted women to be served at its bar. I was the first person in my family to go to college, and it was the first time I had been away from home. Wide-eyed, thrilled, terrified, and alone, I would stare out my dormitory window 18 flights over Kenmore Square and fairly pray to the giant neon sign throbbing below. To millions of Red Sox fans it's where home-run balls go to die, but for me the kitschy triangle signified freedom, achievement, and the new home I would never leave. Who cares if there's no gas station underneath?

The Massachusetts Constitution. The country's oldest and still the best. Written in 1780, seven years before the US Constitution, this magisterial document is the oldest written constitution still in use in the world - and it's ours! Reading it you can hear the first draft of the language every schoolchild memorizes today. Expansive in its elevation of personal liberty, it was cited when Massachusetts declared slavery illegal in 1783, eight decades before the Civil War. Two-hundred-twenty years later, Margaret Marshall relied on the same principles when she wrote the ringing court decision legalizing gay marriage.

Mary Oliver. In a region that has produced most of the nation's poet laureates, it is risky to single out one fragile 71-year-old bard of Provincetown. But Mary Oliver, who won the Pulitzer Prize in poetry in 1983, is my choice for her joyous, accessible, intimate observations of the natural world. Her "Wild Geese" has become so popular it now graces posters in dorm rooms across the land. But don't hold that against her. Read almost anything in "New and Selected Poems." She teaches us the profound act of paying attention - a living wonder that makes it possible to appreciate all the others.

Renée Loth is editorial page editor of The Boston Globe.