Roaming the York County countryside means seeing fields shorn of their tall grasses and corn standing knee-high right about now. Raspberries are filling out on their canes, and blueberries are ripening a little more each day. Birds linger longer on tree branches, particularly among the flowering varieties whose blossoms have given way to yet another year's-worth of seeds. It's July, the seventh month, which means that we are over half-way through yet another year. The heat rests heavily on the land, and the sun shines down more intensely than it will at any other time.
I'm not a big fan of hot weather, so when I do venture out, I try to get as early a start as I can. Driving along with all the windows down, I bask in the still-cool morning air that, by noon, will feel more like the heat pouring from an oven. On hot days, even the trees seem weighed down by it, their leaves barely moving in the moisture-laden air moving in from the south and the west, completely resigned to the elements that constitute summer in southern Maine.
Much has been written of late about conservation and the actions of many dedicated individuals geared toward protecting unspoiled land for future generations to enjoy and appreciate. While their efforts are indeed commendable, it occurs to me that conservation can take different forms and that it can be deliberate or simply the result of of land being left undisturbed for many years. The long swaths of open field and meadow that I see in my many travels illustrate what I like to call passive conservation. Such acreage emerges from beneath the snows each spring, sprouts a full component of grass that is eventually cut back to ground level. That is about as much as ever happens to such land, and year after year, it is wisely left in nature's domain. The hay or straw harvested from these lands fills many needs, but such undisturbed lands provide another benefit as well by enhancing the countryside and making a lot of lovely scenery possible. Visual beauty, as well as the survival of relatively untouched places, are indeed valuable components of conservation, passive or otherwise, that sometimes get lost in the shuffle of providing areas for people to enjoy in other ways.
We all owe a debt of gratitude to those landowners who quietly, and without much ado, leave large portions of their land in nature's care. Because of them, we have many places to escape to in this part of the world where life's busy-ness and the wilderness live in close proximity to each other. And although much of this land is private and, in some cases, posted against trespassers, I feel that just having it to look at as I drive by or stop along a road somewhere to enjoy is a gift.
I sometimes park my car and walk along the by-ways that border such properties, camera in hand, always on the lookout for that special something that would be missed if I'd just passed by without a second glance. From such a limited vantage point, I am still able to gaze out upon rolling pastures and deep into dense woods where the leaves split the sunlight into glimmering beams. I can gaze down from a bridge into flowing water or look up at clouds that break up a rich blue sky above a field of golden grasses bending in the breeze, thankful always to those wise landowners who know that, when nature is given full rein, nothing short of the spectacular will do.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876
Showing posts with label trespassers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trespassers. Show all posts
Friday, June 6, 2014
Interlude
Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. ~Rachel Carson
I took a walk in the woods yesterday along the path I blazed last fall only to find it strewn with the debris of the most recent storm. So I picked fallen branches up as I went along and lay them to one side where they will soon be buried by falling leaves. Ferns have taken over once again in a spongy area just above where the natural spring exits the hill, and I was thankful I'd blazed a few trees to mark the way.
When I reached the main path, I turned left and headed up the steep slope that is now mercifully open only to those on foot. Several summers ago, I had a problem with someone tearing up and down it on a very loud all-terrain vehicle, and finally asked a neighbor to block its lower end with some huge boulders. It's off-limits now to all but those who walk these woods, and that is as it should be. The path slopes steeply down toward the dirt road and, as such, provides a natural egress for heavy rains and melting snows. The recent heavy rains have worn a deep rivulet in one side of it, so it's hard going up there, but I wasn't to be deterred. Two of my three cats weren't far behind, and we made our way slowly but surely toward the ridge where the land levels off.
As I neared the area, I discovered an enormous maple tree that had fallen and completely blocked the path with its thick branches and dense foliage. All I could see were the silvery backs of leaves against a deeper green background, color values not normally seen from this angle, an anomaly in this place of uprightness and tenacity. A bit of scouting revealed that it will be possible to regain the path by passing under the maple at its root end, but I will attempt this earlier in the day and will bring loppers with me to clean the area out a bit.
It occurred to me then that, had I not had my neighbor block the path with boulders, nature would eventually have resolved the problem herself, as was evidenced by this tree. While trespassers have, in the past, taken it upon themselves to cut and move branches out of their way, they could never have budged this great tree. There it will remain until someone decides to take a chainsaw to it. Its leaves will turn brown and fall off, and for awhile, it won't be an attractive part of the landscape. But time will solve that as well, and at some point, it will look like it's been there for years.
As I headed for home, I looked up at the treetops tinged with the setting sun's light, and blue jays flew over crying out to each other as they went. A squirrel scolded my cats as they passed through what must have been its territory, and it sat in that tree for quite some time chattering away and venting its irritation at them. They seemed not to notice as they made their way through the weeds and grasses, tall now as summer nears its end. My garden, too, has that wild tumbled eclectic look that I love, with black-eyed susans smiling above long stalks of mint bearing their spent blossoms.
It's no longer summer but neither is it fall quite yet, and one of my favorite times of year. I like to think of it as an interlude as nature readies herself for the spectacular display of color that's just around the corner.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876
I took a walk in the woods yesterday along the path I blazed last fall only to find it strewn with the debris of the most recent storm. So I picked fallen branches up as I went along and lay them to one side where they will soon be buried by falling leaves. Ferns have taken over once again in a spongy area just above where the natural spring exits the hill, and I was thankful I'd blazed a few trees to mark the way.
When I reached the main path, I turned left and headed up the steep slope that is now mercifully open only to those on foot. Several summers ago, I had a problem with someone tearing up and down it on a very loud all-terrain vehicle, and finally asked a neighbor to block its lower end with some huge boulders. It's off-limits now to all but those who walk these woods, and that is as it should be. The path slopes steeply down toward the dirt road and, as such, provides a natural egress for heavy rains and melting snows. The recent heavy rains have worn a deep rivulet in one side of it, so it's hard going up there, but I wasn't to be deterred. Two of my three cats weren't far behind, and we made our way slowly but surely toward the ridge where the land levels off.
As I neared the area, I discovered an enormous maple tree that had fallen and completely blocked the path with its thick branches and dense foliage. All I could see were the silvery backs of leaves against a deeper green background, color values not normally seen from this angle, an anomaly in this place of uprightness and tenacity. A bit of scouting revealed that it will be possible to regain the path by passing under the maple at its root end, but I will attempt this earlier in the day and will bring loppers with me to clean the area out a bit.
It occurred to me then that, had I not had my neighbor block the path with boulders, nature would eventually have resolved the problem herself, as was evidenced by this tree. While trespassers have, in the past, taken it upon themselves to cut and move branches out of their way, they could never have budged this great tree. There it will remain until someone decides to take a chainsaw to it. Its leaves will turn brown and fall off, and for awhile, it won't be an attractive part of the landscape. But time will solve that as well, and at some point, it will look like it's been there for years.
As I headed for home, I looked up at the treetops tinged with the setting sun's light, and blue jays flew over crying out to each other as they went. A squirrel scolded my cats as they passed through what must have been its territory, and it sat in that tree for quite some time chattering away and venting its irritation at them. They seemed not to notice as they made their way through the weeds and grasses, tall now as summer nears its end. My garden, too, has that wild tumbled eclectic look that I love, with black-eyed susans smiling above long stalks of mint bearing their spent blossoms.
It's no longer summer but neither is it fall quite yet, and one of my favorite times of year. I like to think of it as an interlude as nature readies herself for the spectacular display of color that's just around the corner.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)