LIVE FROM THE COLISEUM

I am standing atop the Coliseum with six inches of snow beneath me. It is a beautiful winter’s day. The air is crisp and cold: there’s a stillness around me well beyond silence. I am the only human who ventures into Greenfield Wood in the dead of winter. As I look down at the pine forest, it occurs to me than in winter the many shades of green are so diverse and vibrant aginst the frigid purity of white snow that it dazzles your eyes. Sinclair Lewis once commented that winter is not a season but an occupation. I believe winter is the start point for the regenerative powers of Mother Nature. A season of flame-flickering dreams and far horizon hope.

I had to make my way by snowshoe to get here. Rather than take the main trail which I normally do in summer, I was able to almost glide (well, at least trudge with relative ease now that there is a crust on the snow) my way through the sugar maples. I don’t have to contend with mosquitoes and deer flies, humidity, tangled undergrowth and rocks. Winter is my season of exploration. For example, today I was able to visit the boggy eastern white cedar lowland, something I could not do in summer.

Greenfield Wood has a glorious history which nobody knows and has never been told. The title deeds to this 50 acre parcel of woodland indicate that it was first granted to a Mr. MacRae in 1798. My theory is that he was a military pensioner, a brave soldier of a proud Scottish regiment, a product of the Highland Clearances. He had nothing to return to in the old world and both he an his young family were more than grateful to receive a 200 acre plot of virgin forest to farm. There was an abundance of rocks and boulders. But life was no piece of cake either in the harsh West Highlands of Scotland. There are clues that there was once a farm house here. Children, I sense, once played in these woods.

Like the MacRaes, humans have certainly left their mark on Greenfield Wood. But strangely enough this is a forest of the future. Other than the 10 acres of sugar maples which formed a combination wood lot and maple sugar plantation, every other corner of this bountiful forest was clear-cut and turned over to pasture. Times change, however, as they always do; farms in the region prospered, then declined and were abandoned. Mother Nature waited patiently, knowingly on the sidelines.

From the Coliseum it is possible to discern these changes. The Coliseum, by the way, is my name for an extraordinary, perfectly circular, crater (almost like a huge bomb crater) in the middle of this forest, forming a lovely wooded amphitheatre. The locals maintain that this feature was the result of a significant meteor crash many centuries ago.

In the late 1980’s, according to my bit of detective work, a previous owner offered this parcel of land to a large pulp and paper company to conduct exercises in modern forestry practices. The pastures were plowed vigorously (the deep furrows are still very obvious to this very day) and eastern white pine (10 acres) and spruce (same) were planted using excellent seed stock. The results are apparent today. Although, in essence, small-scale mono-cultures, these mini plantations of young conifers are thriving. Greenfield Wood once again pulsates with life.

Behind me is a very spectacular Seed Mother: A very ancient, venerable sugar maple, who I named in a moment of inspirational eccentricity: Muriel. There are many beautiful boundary maples around here, many between 300 and 400 hundred years old, and Muriel is their poster girl.

Our ancestors were certainly wise. They would reap the bounty of the forest, usually for fuel wood, but would selectively choose their trees. At a very minimum, I am told, they would leave 12 to 14 of the finest, strongest and most productive of trees per acre, to allow the forest to re-generate. Muriel was one of them. As I stand here, I like to think that Muriel was a young, flourishing maple when Mr. MacRae was out huffin’ and cussin” (albeit in Gaelic) and plowing his rocky fields.

Here at the Coliseum in Greenfield Wood, man has had an impact, that is for certain. But the wisdom of the past and the power and majesty of Nature have combined to provide hope for the future. They say trees have two life forces: that is to metabolize (ie. survive) and to reproduce their numbers. A bit like ourselves, really.