A Meandering Tale

Keeping my 1/4 mile lane free of trees, berries, and other flora is a continual process. Today I gathered my gloves, loppers and saw, and started cutting down the alder trees that miraculously appear on the side of the road.

I've cleared to the first curve when I notice a stand of ripe salmon berries. The parrots would love these. I find a container and start picking. As I clear the first bush I notice more at the edge of the woods, and follow them along. I've removed my right glove to improve my picking skills.

As I go deeper into the woods, I'm drawn to the many paths created by chickens, dogs, and other feathered and four-legged beings. I dig out my camera and take some pictures.

I love these paths. They are enticing, and I often start down them without considering that they are made by short creatures. They are well cleared up to a couple feet, and then all bets are off.

I resist going back to the strange woodland highway, a wide cleared area popular with the chickens, that always makes me ponder it's creation - it's a rectangular clearing in a densely wooded area with lots of undergrowth. After all, I'm clearing the lane, not exploring the woods.

I get back to where I started picking berries, and realize I've lost my right glove. I go back to the berry bushes, follow my tracks, eyes down, searching for my glove. I don't find it. I go back to the starting point, and try again. No luck. The woods have made my glove their own.

I continue down the road, cutting down the small alders, the intrusive Himalayan blackberries, and the thistles. I miss my right glove.

I've been at this some time, and haven't gone very far. I do have a nice supply of berries. And I'm beginning to understand why I never seem to complete any one task.

Oh, look, around the bend, more ripe salmon berries...