A Disturbance in the forest

No garden is an island. Most days I walk the neighborhood before my work day, and Dog and I sniff out the changes--visitors, neighbors, and the general state of the environs. Sometimes I have already heard the equipment, heavy or otherwise, altering the landscape, natural or man-made. 

We are nestled in the woods, all of us here in this neighborhood. It is a forest in transition, having once been farmland, it is now moving from "junk" species to hardwood, and the species in the stories--ground, mid, and upper--actually illustrate the transition, with the tall loblolly pines having been the first to break ground in the farmland. One day they will be no more, and the hardwood will reign supreme. However, according to our local forester, we will not be around to see the day, and there is nothing we can do to speed it up.

But I would think there are ways  to slow it down, and Dog and I encountered one this spring in several places. The earthmovers had come in, leaving behind a large gash in the earth, overturned greenery, and deep tread marks. It's a disturbance in the forest.

Contrary to common assumption and concern, I am one that is ok with that. We the people are a part of the environment, and while we are tasked with being stewards of the land and all that is provided us, we cannot help but have an impact. The only question is where the line between a positive and a negative impact might be. 

So my response to the disturbance in the forest is more one of curiosity--with these changes what will I witness as time goes on? What transitions will the land go through that I can observe over the next months and years?  Will loblollies recolonize? Or can the area go straight to hardwood, passing only through those herbaceous pioneers that we often categorize as weeds. 

One of the best and hardest things in life is witnessing and taking in change. We can resist, accept or embrace it. Sometimes we just curiously watch it happen.

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