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Quiet little discoveries await

Marking a boundary up in the woods today, I encountered an ancient little field that had once provided hay and pasture for cattle.  It is on a steep hillside, so it must have been hell to farm, but in this supremely quiet, gentle nook of a place, there is another surprise to go with this small, welcome surprise.

Along several hundred feet of the field margin are fruit and nut trees, lovingly planted long, long ago.  Walnut, butternut, American chestnut, various apples, all in various stages of death and decay, but still clinging to life amid brambles and a towering, sunlight-hungry forest canopy all around.

Finding these old signs that someone loved and tended to this land in such a personal way feels reassuring, because baby, if you are watching the Middle East, Russia, Ukraine, France, London, there ain’t a whole lotta lovin’ goin’ on out there.  Hate and calculated grabs for power seem to dominate.  Finding this little sidebar of a postage stamp of Earth gave me some breathing room.  It felt good.

Thank you, old farmer from 100 years ago.  I enjoyed the peace and tranquility you intended for someone to have at some point here, if only for ten minutes.  I will return again, eat an apple on an old stump, and look out at your creation.  You never anticipated mile-a-minute weed, did you?  Crushing that invasive weed there will be my contribution to your special spot, old farmer.

 

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