I went to the woods today for the same reason I often do. To clear my mind, to be alone, to be free, for a moment or two, from the politics of work and the need to be something for others. My son did not join me today, and for today at least, I was thankful. For today I needed to be alone as I had just made a work related decision that had me choose pragmatism over idealism. It was a difficult decision and one that does not sit well. As these blogs are about the woods, I will not pollute them by bringing up this compromise that will likely send me there even more.
Today, the woods presented, at first, little solace. Lush with new growth of bittersweet, ivy, honeysuckle, and rose, my work from two weeks ago seemed to be for naught. More tilting at windmills and, today, I did not have my Sancho at my side.
Below is the picture I took on April 17, ten days ago, after clearing this patch which is in front of the big maple and the line of hollies. Hopefully you see how the right is cleared and the left is still cluttered with invasives.
The photo below is what greeted me today, April 27. Lush and full. There was some difference between the right and left. I have to admit that I stood for a minute, surveying the scene, asking myself what I was hoping to accomplish. Acres of rose and other invasives greeted my gaze. But, how could I quit? Walk away? I had started this mad quest-if I quit now, it will all be in vain. At least here, I could lay better claim to be the master of my fate and the captain of my soul
I lost myself for an hour clearing this spot, again. What is possessing me to do this work? How am I ever going to get these woods to where they need to be, I have no idea. This ground possesses me now. I am too stubborn to give up. So, I worked. First, I pulled all the bittersweet-little vines of little more than a foot or two in length. Hundreds of little honeysuckle shoots, already climbing up the saplings, each other, and anything else that is vertical. Pure grip. No Pulaskis, no loppers. Just pulling. My fingers are raw and swollen now as I type. Next, the rose. Little more than stumps and scraggly bushes, I finish what I had started last time-digging with the Pulaski. I checked several times. I hope that I got them all.
I know I am not done. But two the photos that follow are my hope that this work is not in vain. There are other saplings. I am working to identify them. I do think that they are blackhaw and ash.
If I am correct, this is a young dogwood; there is a larger specimen nearby and several smaller ones of this size. With most of the ivy pulled (you can see some on the left) and most of the honeysuckle (you can see some next to the ivy in the upper right corner) this sapling may just have a chance.
And this is an oak sapling. I believe this is a black oak.
After this work, knowing I would not yet be missed at home, I walked up to the ridge to check on its progress and to tear out two privet bushes I had previously left for another day.
I found this beautiful little sassafras tree growing right next to the privet. Now it has some more room.
I finished my work tired and with aching hands, ready for dinner and an evening with my books. I had forgotten about my day and its demands. These woods ask nothing of me and, for that, I return to give more. There are no politics here.