Walk in the Vermont Woods

[This is a piece I wrote last summer while on vacation in Vermont]

We started out on our adventure trudging up the hill behind Peter’s house. We were following a snow mobile trail where the grass was waist high and wet from all the rain. Behind Peter and in front of Jane I was mostly concentrating on my steps. We left the open trail and the grass and entered the darkness of the big trees. I was excited and though I’d walked through the tall grass before I was relieved to know where I was stepping again. We were all very chatty going up. Catching up on news at first then wandering into more philosophical territory as we reached the place they call The Cathedral, among trees that were the longest living on the property. Sugar Maples with many limbs lost looked more like old men than trees. They held the roof over this place of worship with the still substantial branches they had left and were aided by the many younger but taller White Pines around them. We continued up through the woods until we got to the top of the hill where the path we were on opened up like a doorway onto a great big meadow that covered the rest of the hilltop.

We followed a trail that I could not see but Peter seemed to know through more waist high grass. I was back to concentrating on my steps as the grass swiped my belly and obscured my feet. I like knowing where my feet are and not feeling like they’re in another dimension. I called to them with my brain; Are you as wet as I think you are? The meadow dipped down before going back up and in the lower area the ground was marshier, the grass thinned out enough to see that we were in fact walking in several inches of water. Soon enough we were heading up the other side where I could no longer feel the sloshing of water in my shoes or see my feet again. This quieted us all down. The trudging through tall grass which is a lot harder than it sounds and the discomfort of wet feet and legs killed the conversation that had already thinned out. We were just there. Walking. We reached the highest part of the meadow and stopped beside some huge beautiful leafy trees basking in all the free sun. From there we could see a few houses and barns and Peter began naming them and the people who lived in them.

On a far hill I noticed a stand of tall pines that were surrounded by open land. They looked funny there, like a fussy goatee that had been reduced to a neat square that was too small to really do anything. Peter said it was a stand of trees that had been planted a long time ago and never thinned out properly and now they were too tall and thin to survive. The sun could now sneak in the sides and you could see younger trees that were growing up in the center. From where we stood it just looked like a round bushy shadow inside the vertical bars of the pines.

Now we were headed back and I felt a bit of panic set in. The walk would be over soon. As we headed back we took an old road called the Hinman Road that dates back to the late 1700s. I was taken up with the aromas of history and a moss covered stone wall following along on our right. We came to an area that had been cleared of the larger trees and what was left was tall and naked. Bare trunks stretched up to 100 feet or more before sprouting branches and leaves. They looked beautiful and strange that way. I turned to look on the other side of the road and the same age and size trees were there, but accompanied and partly obscured by 3 to 5 feet of undergrowth. We kept walking and there was more evidence of recent clearing. Some equipment sitting around, fresh gashes in the trunks of standing trees where logging had left scars and plenty of pieces of trees that had been left for some reason.
I pulled out my camera and started taking pictures. Large felled trees and piles of wood. I was recording what happens and felt like a war photographer taking images of casualties. What it looks like when you cut down trees. The part we don’t want to see or talk about. We were solemn and quiet. If you are in the business of it you might laugh and say where do you think the paper you are writing on comes from? The chair you are sitting in? Sitting here on the lake now recounting the mornings adventure I look at the tall cedars all around me and think they are lucky, like me. Lucky to live free and prosper in an impoverished world.

Like a teenager first discovering photography I shot through two rolls in two minutes. Jane and Peter waited as I slowed our walk down to a crawl. We were silent by then and my shutter was polluting the peace but I couldn’t stop. I felt I was doing something and maybe I was. Maybe I will make something with the photos I shot. A big painting of the forest would be an achievement. But maybe I was just putting something between myself and the devastation so I wouldn’t have to hear what they were saying. By the time I ran out of film I was ready to listen. I walked reverently through what was left of a very old forest, much of which had been cleared centuries ago. I started to settle in, finally, and felt like maybe I would get to do what I came here to do when Peter ducked under a very low branch and I followed him out of the woods and into his backyard.

Avocado Climbing

Yesterday I climbed up high into the canopy of the enormous Avocado tree that graces our back yard. I had never had the nerve to go that far before. Its not that I am afraid of heights, but ever since I had my first child, I have found I am less willing to risk life and limb than I was. The Avocado is an easy tree to climb. Its branches are so sturdy they don’t budge under the weight of an adult. They tend to grow up and then out, almost horizontally in places and making right angels in others, providing easy places to step and hold on. Recently we hung ropes in the branches which helped me get up as high as I did. It was already a very hospitable tree and my six year old daughter was able to get pretty far out onto one of its big lower limbs. But watching her one day I realized it would be possible for her to simply walk along the largest branches if she just had something to hang onto. I thought about building a spare wooden structure with bars perhaps into the branches, but it seemed awkward and ugly. Then I thought about just hanging some rope. So I asked our friend Michael Stewart who is a man of many talents if he would like to tackle such a project. Michael is a genius problem-solver and tree lover and he jumped at the chance to do something fun. We came up with fanciful plans of hammocks and nets that children could jump into along with a network of ropes to help them get up high. But soon after he started working on it we realized we didn’t want to put so much rope in that it would obscure the beautiful shape of the tree. Part of the joy that this magnificent Avocado offers is in the way your eyes travel up and down her great thick limbs that twist and turn at odd angles, sometimes growing into each other. So we kept it simple. A network of ropes overhead for adults to hold onto with additional ropes and rings hanging down for the kids. He also attached two small pieces of wood directly to the trunk to help kids get up on the first branches. The amazing thing is how it compliments the tree. The ropes look almost like vines and the rings add a little geometry. Together they invite children and adults alike to get up into the tree. The best part is climbing with my daughter. It feels so amazing to be up high in the tree with her. It makes me alive in a way that is different and its fun to share the excitement of that with her. We like to pretend we are birds.

Just a Minute

I have added a new routine to my day. When it was suggested at the gardening workshop I attended (I am still resonating with the wealth of information from that day) that part of being attentive to the garden is just sitting there for a few minutes every day, I thought: No way will I be able to squeeze that in. I’m lucky if I get out there to water those poor babies twice a week! She suggested the early morning as the best time to just sit and pay attention to what is happening. Mornings? (I grumbled silently) You think I have five minutes in the morning?? Between getting the kids dressed and fed and lunch made and packed into the car I barely have time to take a bite out of the nutrition-free piece of toast I make for myself let alone spend a few contemplative minutes in the garden…

But there I am. Sitting quietly in my garden. Watching the clouds drift, the birds hop and yes, even watching the lettuce grow. I have managed it almost every day since the day she said those words and I adamantly cynically scoffed at them. Sometimes I run out just before dinner when its about to get dark, but more often then not I have stolen away in the morning. As if by magic, ever since I decided at least to give it a shot, the girls have been happy to get themselves dressed or my older one has decided to make her own lunch and for five minutes I run out to just sit in the garden. It is heavenly. It is great for me to take that time in the morning to remind myself that there IS time and that rushing is a complete waste of time. And these days especially, when I have no idea what is coming one day to the next, staying present is more than a spiritual goal, it is a necessity.

I am a Gardener!

It is just incredible what you can learn in a few short hours. Today I took my six year old to an organic gardening workshop taught by a sustainability coach which was amazing and inspiring.

I have little experience gardening but I started composting a few months ago and recently filled three large beds in my back yard with fresh dirt. I am diving in and this workshop gave me tons of confidence. The main thing I learned, which is so simple, is that instead of thinking about growing food, we ought to approach the garden as growing soil. If we work with the soil, treating it not just well but with reverence, and helping it to be as rich as possible then we won’t have to struggle with growing food. With good soil, everything will thrive. There will still be pests and problems, but the plants will be able to handle them with a little support and lots of attention. It is like building an immune system into the soil.

We all had our ears perked up all afternoon, and even though she spent some time drawing pictures (of vegetables of course) my daughter was as interested as all the adults. We both dug our hands into the dirt and were energized. We turned a cover crop and planted lettuce and pulled weeds from some of the most beautiful soil I have ever encountered.

Armed with the simple concept of growing soil I no longer feel tentative about starting my first vegetable garden. I feel like I know what to do and that the earth itself will be helping to guide me through the process. I am very excited. I will plant seeds tomorrow!