NATURE'S THE BOSS

It seems to me that Nature is telling us something when we think we can carve a path into the woods; when we plant a "permanent" garden; or when we just think if we leave things as is it will stay that way forever. Look at old homes and how they deteriorate after a few years of vacancy unless someone checks on them almost constantly. I've written blogs in the past on how the storms would show me they had the last say on my building a permanent path. I've constantly been having to go over, around, or 'under' a fallen tree. Every year I kick rocks that seem to heave up from nowhere, and if let alone would scrape on the bottom of my cross country skis in the winter.

Today, after going up to the Lake, Tom and I took different paths back. He took the high road, and I took the low. The lowest path from our house to the lake runs along the rim of the gully created by eons of years of the creek's water seeking it's own level. On the way back, right away I'm reminded of all this with an ash tree that crashed down over that path years ago, within yards of the road from the lake to the south. I have carved out a path around the upright roots of this first ash. There's another ash about 50 yards further on a gentle slope perpendicular across the path, for which I built up the ground so I could sail over it on skis in the winter. The trail dodges other trees that are tall and straight, but the roots make the snow run a bit of a bumpy challenge. Then the path curves uphill to a slight rise on the first of my detours I created back in probably 1988 when a huge beech tree fell, and forced me to build a path around it's trunk with is still standing full of holes created by the woodpeckers, and probably housing everything from birds to raccoons.

From that spot, it's precarious on skis, as the land slopes down at a good angle for a thrill ride on skis which could abruptly end with head hitting the trunks of the trees over the path I dug under when felled by hurricane Isabel. After walking under the cave of tree trunks the first view is an oak that gave out about 15 feet from the ground about 20 feet left of the path, and bent all the way to the ground, resting it's canopy on the side of the gully, creating a triangular archway which has to be dodged if one passes through it on skis.

I've laid any straight or curved wood shaped to guard the downside of the path, serving as a curb of safety of keeping one on it in the winter, and serving as a leveler, as it keeps the path from eroding down the gully to the right. From there on it's more or less clear a bit, until the huge oak that fell "for absolutely no reason" and I had to build up a lot of path to have it not a barrier for my lower ski route. I remember getting through doing that, only to have another huge oak that had been next to this path fall into the gully and creek, causing quite an obstacle for the debris that gets carried down the creek in the spring rains and melting snow. It literally uprooted my path, and another path that went downhill in a switchback I'd created so my grandchildren and I could walk down to the creek. I'd put in some rock slabs that served as steps at the bottom. So I built a curved detour around the vast hole in the ground at the top, lining the border with both curved and straight logs and dead branches. From there on we're clear of fallen trees, but, watch out... as soon as that's said, probably another will fall.

Point is, Nature has the final say. We cannot create a permanent garden that won't eventually go back to nature and crowding weeds. We can't build a straight permanent path through the woods. Nothing is permanent. It's always a work in progress. Such is life.