Because, as I survey all that I command, all I see is a carpet of rose and other invasives. I made more progress on Friday afternoon, connecting the dots of my clearings. Dots. White in a sea of black. Black in a sea of white? Hope in a sea of hopelessness? I am keeping a close eye on the spot in front of the maple. If the forest floor succumbs to quickly, I may as well. Its only been a week since my last photo so there is no significant change. I just like the big maple tree. Old trees impart a wisdom not found in human words or actions. Our foolishness is only compounded the more of these old souls we destroy.
Here are the after effects of the next stop up on the ridge, behind the hollies you see uphill from the maple. My son and I did this work.
This is a photo from my previous post showing the before:
Despite the 90 degree heat, I choose to come out to the site. Being a Friday afternoon, I needed some time before the tasks of home presented themselves. I moved up the ridge, to the next area, behind the fallen tree in the background of the above photo. Friday’s work was particularly difficult as everything was so small. There were no huge vines to cut and pull. It wasn’t large rose where you can pull back, step, and then swing. No, this was on your knees, bending at you waist, small work. In the 90 degree heat, wearing long sleeves and jeans because of the ticks. I was mad as hell by the end. I’ve drafted a post about all the vituperation running through my mind. Maybe I’ll post it. It didn’t help that I had eaten my breakfast reading about the Antarctic sea ice collapsing and scientists wondering if the United States Congress will need scuba gear by the end of the 21st century in order to continue with their sound and fury that signifies nothing. Not really, but, what the hell! See, I’m mad. But I’ll save it for another post. I’ll stick to the facts here.
So, below, is the before of Friday’s work. Notice the bittersweet climbing to the sun. The large vines you see are native grape. There is holly and other native shrubs in the background. It’s all the vegetation in the foreground that shouldn’t be there.
And here is the after. As I organized the photos to prepare for this post, I realized that I had not taken shots from the same angle and that my finger is in one of the shots I did take. I’m going to blame the heat. In the following photograph, you can see that I pulled all of the bittersweet from in front of this log.
This next photograph is taken looking down hill. I’ve cleared the honeysuckle, ivy, a few rose bushes, several privet bushes, and the bittersweet. There was quite a bit here that I wasn’t sure about. I think there are young trees in here. I’ll be back with my identification book. I want to get to the left of that downed tree and start clearing some of the larger rose bushes. Ten feet behind me is the ridge clearing. So, I’ve, more or less, connected the dots. I finished my time here by pulling out another dozen rose bushes that had been simply cut down last winter. There are few left where we had focused so much effort. I need to clear up by the trail where it takes the sharp right. That will be the next day’s work.
I found this little gem in the ridge clearing, under a oak sapling. A rather pathetic May Apple specimen. But, it’s something. I don’t know enough about how these plant propagate and what it means for soil chemistry, but I know that it’s a good thing to see a native plant where there was once nearly 100 percent ivy and honeysuckle cover. And, look at all the dead rose and ivy under and around it! And that is a small oak sapling to the left, getting sunlight because there are no non-natives bushes on top of it. I’m still mad. And I’m going back. What else can I do?