SPRING EQUINOX

It is Spring Equinox today. I am once again deep in the heart of Greenfield Wood at the Coliseum (my name for a large crater in the middle of the forest). It’s damp, rainy and windy, and I am standing on 10 feet of snow, looking down at the pines. On my way in I passed by the vernal pond where in a month’s time the bullfrogs will be playing their part in a grand forest symphony.
Like a man delirious with thirst in a fiery, endless desert, I can only see green today in spite of the misty white everywhere. This part of Greenfield Wood, in my mind, is defined by the wild grape, one of nature’s tenacious opportunists. On one side of the Coliseum, one very senior vine many years ago managed to strangle its host tree which blew down this year in one of the many winter storms. With my trusty pruning saw, with relative ease I snow-shoed over to the stump and cut-back the large, thick vine. One of my forest maintenance jobs this year will be to train this wild vine to a more manageable, human proportion. Who knows – maybe grape jelly in a few year’s time.
Interesting to think, 10,000 years ago someone near the Garden of Eden in what is today south-eastern Iraq was probably doing the same thing (albeit without the white fluffy stuff) – simple beginnings for the first agricultural revolution, but sadly the start of the de-forestation of the Earth’s green mantle.
The trail leading up to this spot provides further examples of the regenerative powers of the forset. Between the pines and the sugar maples: ash, sumac, white birch, trembling aspen, and hawthorn (all highly opportunistic pioneer species) have reclaimed some of the ground; much to the disadvantage of the two dozen domestic apple trees planted here about 50 years ago. This will be another spring task. To cut-back a few of these wild trees to release the apples and give them their share of the light. What is very apparent here, however, is that the tough sugar maples are on the march while the pines are taking the defensive. A few ash and birch have penetrated the pine plantation and have greedily captured their piece of the canopy. A proportion of the weaker pines have died, eventually to decompose back into the soil, while the stronger ones have shot up to take their slice of the sky. Meanwhile the sugar maples are allowing no competition what-so-ever to storm the gates of their leafy fortress. The critters are also stirring. On the way in I noticed deer, racoon, hare, grey wolf and partridge tracks in the snow.
Back at the Coliseum I am able to look around to admire the diversity of tree species, all in one convenient spot. In front of me are two very beautiful mature trees: an ash and an elm, both given a reprieve from grape strangulation last year. An amazing co-incidence really; in Norse mythology both the ash and the elm are the equivalent of Adam and Eve (ash – male, elm – female). My wife maintains this makes complete sense as the males of the species often make a complete ash of themselves – but I digress. To my left is a very grand basswood and a gnarly wytch hazel. Last year I added a black walnut, a butternut, a northern hazel, two heritage apples (this winter I noticed that a marauding band of bad-ass Bambis had nibbled the tops of these fragile saplings) and three tamaracks. Hopefully all will make it through the winter.
In my mind’s eye, at the back of the Coliseum I can see the thriving herb garden I planted last year. The wild thyme, wild sage, oregano, spear mint and french tarragon love the steep, rocky soil. Nearby there is also an abundance of wild ginger and wild garlic, not to mention a veritable profusion of berries of all description and wild mushrooms. I promised myself that I will make the time this year to identify the many species of wild mushrooms growing everywhere. As I cut back the grape vine I managed to save a piece of the vine as a keepsake. According to the ancient Celts everyone has a sacred birth wood – mine oddly enough is grape vine – September the 23rd – the autumn equinox.
As I prepare to make my way back to civilization I take a last look at the beautiful sugar maple seed mothers, asleep in the misty forset backdrop. The ancient Anglo Saxons made their fabled musical harps from maple. The Welsh carve their love spoons from it. It is even said that the Trojan horse was made from maple wood. The Chippewa have in their mythology a super hero – a maple named Mishosha, who was once an evil magician. Amazing how trees can trencend, time, space and dimension.
Yep, you guessed it – far too much time on my hands. It really has been a long, long winter.