The New South Woods

Well, it's coming together slowly now. There will be some scruffiness to it while it heals from being cleared out, and then the softness will grow back where we let it. I've chipped a lot of twigs and now there are more uncovered with the introduction of the leaf hog to the project. My doppleganger was out there blowing leaves and then vacuuming them into a condensed fluff yesterday and uncovered a bunch of twigs that have not seen the light of day for many years.

So, once last night's rain is a little less moist (will it actually evaporate in the humidity?) I shall go out and see what I can find to make more little pathways.

I keep thinking of making a wattle fence. It sounds like a lot of work, and of course we don't have native willow to use here. My favorite idea is to plant willows close and use them as poles for a willow woven fence-- a living one! Then the leaves grow and it all looks natural. I really like the look, but would I be alive to see it actually in its finished form? I figure I will be here at this address maybe 20 years at the very maximum (that would make me about 90!), so I had better not plan anything that will take too long.

It's serene out there in the woods. It really takes you to another level to be there-- with the buffer of nature all around and the sound of birds singing their fall songs and the acorns falling all around. I find my chipping time fertile thinking time -- smelling the fragrance of the cut twigs and watching the path grow the way it wants to.

And the lives of the little creatures underfoot comes to mind all the time. What are the moles and voles and chipmunks and snakes doing while I am chipping and disturbing their peace? What are the squirrels planning, now that some of their territory is rearranged? Have I ruined anyone's life? Is that snake out there lying under some leaves, and will he slither off like a gentleman before I find him? I don't want to find him at all. I am quite sure the feeling is mutual, otherwise I would find other ways to work in the woods.

Rain last night gave hope to my parched garden. I have been neglecting the poor garden since the typing project in here has begun. There's a break right now -- whether there should be or not -- and I am happy to go find a few red tomatoes and robust crysanthemums still holding forth. Soon it will be cool enough to bury the bulbs that are waiting, and then to forget about them until spring when they will surprise us with brightness and cheerful color.

Fall is a good time of year. It's as if nature were stripping out all the business of summer and getting ready for the real work of growing things. The work that goes on under cover and in the quiet hidden places deep underground. Like a pregnancy.

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