To All, to Each

We moved onto a five-acre forest back in the summer of ’88. We had an ax, a shovel, a saw, a tent, and two 55-gallon barrels we’d use for our water.

It was mid-July when we spent our first night there. As we sat around the campfire, hundreds of eyes glowed within the shadows of surrounding trees. I was reminded of the movie Snow White when she is running through the woods in the dark, spooked by all those eyes who, in the light of morning, turned out to be the friendly creatures of the forest, curious about her. Which eyes watching us were raccoon, squirrel, bird, mouse, wildcat, deer? We, as their new caretakers, could only guess.

By December, we had a 12 x 16 cabin up, but not finished, and due to two feet of snow on the ground, which had arrived on December third, we moved in.

We spent months untangling ancient brush piles left over from when the land had been logged back in the fifties. or sixties, judging by the forest growth. There were two piles of especially tangled old limbs, one in front of our cabin and the other behind it, that I wanted out of the way before the summer burn ban came into effect.

The next spring, I was astounded at what bloomed in the spot where the brush pile had been behind the cabin. A whole nest of Trillium bloomed from where they’d been buried for at least 25-30 years.

Beauty Survives. Photo taken by Lenee Cobb back in 1989

Every spring I walk behind the cabin and ponder them:

Died

Buried

RISEN

The promise given that to those who believe: nothing is impossible . . .  love may seem dormant, but it never dies.

As they waited for me, so must I wait  . . .

This post was inspired by the Daily Post trigger: Survive

Advertisement