Went into the woods “scoping it out” for the snowshoeing — when the hoped-for time comes. So friendly in freshly fallen leaves of yellow and red. And then there’s the fleeting stream alongside. I wear hunter’s orange. Most people do, even on roads, walking the sandy shoulder. It’s bird season so all you need’s the hat — on my walk, an orange knit stocking-cap.
But I’m going along the stream, stooping through pucker-brush and stepping over blowdown. Sometimes drear, sometimes shiny, so beautiful autumnal day. When: blam-blam-blam! Actually many more such blam!— much blaming! Our neighbor has a semi automatic. I did not know this. But R. told me on my return. Anyway, I kept going.
… and later I came to this….
One of last winter’s cuttings in the neighborhood. A few neighbors were trying to catch up on things financially and had the loggers take what they could use (and leave the rest). The big expensive outfits with Lorax tree-eating machinery don’t leave anything like this behind. But most hate to see the leftovers lying to rot. Especially since there’s a market for the “biomass.” But often loggers are not the big guys and so have to take what they can get. The neighbors getting caught up were unhappy, some, and others thought, OK here’s something for the stove.
You may think us cemetery happy but these woodsy New England places are just so beautiful, each unique. We love spotting them, sometimes in dense woods, far away from everything, where settlers once lived. And they are ever so quiet and peaceful…. Except once in awhile you’ll see…