Saturday, April 18, 2009

Roads and Life

I went home to my walk last evening, the most beautiful day we have had since last Fall, nearly 70, blue skies, breezy, blessings of the gods flowing, pouring, enveloping all creatures down on Earth. I started my walk down the usual path. Then I just decided that today was the day that I was going to explore the stone walls that traverse the middle of wooded acres in which the town path makes its circle. (And, DARN, I did not bring my camera! I would go back today to capture the mini-discoveries, but it's Saturday - that means it's overcast and dark - see buds against the gray skies below.)
The particular stone wall that runs down the middle of this wood is the biggest I have seen around here. I've mentioned it here before, but up close it is even more impressive. You could drive a small car down it, it's that wide. Then, to stand next to that wall, looking along its length as it disappears in the distance, and to stand amidst the thick stands of trees, big trees every few feet as far as you can see so you are in the dark even on the sunniest of days, and then imagine it all cleared. I saw it as a movie scene, when the set fades from one vision to another in memory. The darkness in which I was standing turned to the bright sunlight I would feel if there were no trees. It almost made me dizzy, like when the Island flashes to another time in recent Lost episodes. It felt like ghosts from the era when the walls were built were all around me: oxen teathered to plows, puffing with effort, hoofs alternately thudding softly in dirt and clanging against stones; laborers, sweating in the sun, lugging all those stones erupting from the tilled earth to heave onto that gigantic wall.
I've walked along the path in those woods a hundred or more times. I saw all this when I left the path, to walk a different way.


  1. Habit is a hard thing to break and you broke it and look at the discoveries Jennifer.

    Love Renee xoxo

  2. Hi Jennifer,

    the benefit of the road less travelled on a daily basis....?

    Were the rock walls a result of clearing the land for agriculture?

    the forest can so quickly reclaim it's territory. Much of our forest is secondary regrowth, the beautiful cedars were all milled locally, trees grow so quickly here.

    In NZ we had a 10 acre block and planted little totaras (native hardwood)around the perimeter and I remember thinking at the time, that it would take 50 years for them to be sizeable.
    Here my poinciana matured and flowered within a few years.

  3. Yes, exactly. And sometimes just a fresh perspective is enough to show a new way. Lovely thoughts. Too bad the camera wasn't in tow.

  4. Hi. We seem to know the same people, and even have the same books in our sunrooms. Mine is a joy to behold in all weather. It sits on the southwest side of our house open to light, storms, rain, and occasional sun in the wet months. From now on, it will be open to the rest of the house.

    Welcome to my world. I shall return and visit with you again.

  5. Renee, yes and isn't it interesting that "habit" is, by definition, somethat that we do wihout thinking. How many unproductive habits are floating out there just because we didn't notice? Thank you for stopping by.

  6. Hi Delwyn. Yes, the land was cleared, of both trees and rocks, for agriculture. New England originally was heavily forested, then nearly 100% cleared for pasture and crops, and now returned to forest (except for urban sprawl). When I see pictures of the area in the 1800's, it's not even recognizeable, but prettier really because you can see horizon's, open air and rolling hills and mountains.

    Now I am curious about tortaras and poincianas. What do they look like? I guess I'll look them up.

  7. Woman in the Window, thank you for being here. I am so regularly impressed with your writing, I am glad to virtually sit at a table with you. I went back and got those photos, to be posted.

  8. Hello Rosaria, since I love my sunroom, too, I can picture yours. Doesn't it seem as though the air is just more vibrant in that space? Thanks for stopping by.


Thanks for visiting. I love having you at my table with me.

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