4,800 Heartbeats Till Sunset

One hour before sunset on a blanket without talking, without walking, without a goal, without a problem to solve, no electronics, just 4,800 heartbeats spent simply being present in the forest. 

Sounds easy doesn't it? It was supposed to be a clarifying, centering, peace filled hour in a place that I love. I guess it takes practice.

I can spend an hour watching television and surfing the internet. I have spent many hours facing the water with a pole in my hands or staring into a campfire telling stories. Hiking an hour through the forest isn't a problem. Walking the dogs, writing, I have spent hours upon hours writing. So why was this hour pushed back four days? Why did we wait until the day was almost finished? How is it that I had started to think of this hour as an extreme challenge?

7:00 on Millers Crossing, this has to be the spot as we are running out of time. I'm not one to apply bug repellent in layers but this was ridiculous! Wayne looked about as miserable as I have seen him and it was quite distracting with all of the swatting, grimacing and passing repellant back and forth. I attempted to focus on the ferns in the distance and the white mushrooms that seemed to grow brighter even as the air became darker. I tried to breath deep, notice the tree bark, see the twigs and millions of acorns on the floor. I closed my eyes hoping to hear the forest moving around me. For an eternity I heard my inner voice questioning if we could outlast the mosquitos. 

When was this self revelation supposed to take place? 

It had been a rough two weeks rushing to complete a long overdue project; but wait, that seemed against the rules to think about such things. I could hear birds, you know the one that sounds like crystal and then the one that squawks in prescribed intervals? What is it that keeps hitting branches on its way down before vanishing? Honestly, I was hoping to encounter something more exciting like a coyote but I'd settle for squirrel, anything to distract me from these bugs. Traffic, is there anyplace in town where you can't hear it? That must be the car that everyone was talking about, and that is definitely a helicopter. I don't know what I am searching for.

Seth said that if you sit still enough, turkeys would roost overhead, that you could see the white tailed deer turn her ears just so at the slightest rustle. Where are the damn turkeys Seth!

7:28 Is it permitted to touch things around me? I reach out, pick up two stubby twigs and hold them together. One is white and smooth. I pass my hand over the acorn tops, oak leaves and broken shells. Under the bark I can see the white strands of the decomposers working to break the bark down into black earth. I look at Wayne, he has picked up sticks as well and is trying to piece them together like a puzzle. He shows me what looks like a complete stick before he takes it apart. I point to the white mushroom, he points to a brown one next to him. I look more closely, we are surrounded by saucer sized brown mushrooms.

Suddenly it occurs to me that I have stopped obsessing about the mosquitoes. That's it Norma, mind over blood suckers. Ouch!

7:48 (yes I know I am cheating by checking the time). The air is cooling, the birds seem to have dwindled down to only the crystal bird. Pink, blue and white peak between the boughs of the forest trees. Wayne catches my attention and says one word, "pines." The pines are bathed in a beam of gold in the otherwise darkening woods. Then I see them flickering. Is there a breeze? Nothing else seems to be moving but the ferns. Yes, they are swaying like a chorus keeping their time in slow rhythm and then one or two quickens followed by more. Am I losing my mind? I probe the woods for signs of wind. 

*:00 Wayne helps me to my feet and we gather up the blanket. We are walking on Millers Crossing in Maynard J. Miller Municipal Forest, where the white mushrooms seem even brighter and white rocks seem to be guiding us along the path. "Did you see the ferns move?"  I ask. "Yes" Wayne replies and then asks me, "What would you have done if we had seen a bear?"  -Norma Manning

Residents in Nature part four

 On April 10th, a half dozen dirt bikers met us on the last leg of our hike from Miller Farm to the town forest while we were climbing (crawling really) up our last hill out of Roaring Brook Wildlife Management Area.  Seeing how fast these guys were traveling, I began to wonder how much a couple of these bikes would cost us. 

If you have ever driven past me while I am juggling cucumbers and squash and two dogs, you know that I have stopped by to check out the fresh vegetables that Vicky has set out on the side of Pond road. Vicky was selecting forsythia branches for cutting when I asked to take her picture. I thanked her for all of her fresh garden vegetables in past summers. She told me that the reason she has a garden is to share with others. She mentioned that each year it gets harder for her to pull the weeds in her roadside garden, which is a pretty good reminder for neighbors like me to stop by and lend a helping hand.

Green Up volunteers, Vickie, Tenely, Tricia, Jace and Mason came through the village on May 1st. Thank you very much for making our town a greener place for everyone!  I sure hope that you got that rock out of your shoe Neighbor! 

Fish Stories. Wayne was joined by another fisherman at the Vernon dam fish ladder observation area on the afternoon of June 5th. Here they were scouting out several large carp. They also saw lamprey and a bass. 

When the temp pushes 90 on a Sunday morning, it's time to head for the water. That's where I met Dylan, Alissa, Griffin, Reahlynn and Lincoln cooling off on the Cold Brook end of the Vernon dam (Great River Hydro) rec area. Actually, I met their happy pup first who was still wet from a swim. They told me that the water level had dropped by a lot only twenty minutes earlier. Reah was very attached to the pink dolphin and when the breeze picked up, she kept checking in with her adults to make sure that it didn't blow away.

Maggie, Gus, P-Man and Kylee stopped in at the fish hatchery on Newton road during their long Saturday afternoon walk. Three of them agreed to having their picture taken with the pond in the background, but the fourth was only interested in munching on the fresh spring greens! 

How could I not include this little resident? I have been watching a rather shy single parent tend to its lone blue egg through blazing heat and then drenching rain. When its chick hatched I hesitated to announce the arrival for fear that it would end in the same way as other's in our yard had this season. Though his / her nest is soggy, this little American Robin seems happy and healthy. 

Driving down Broad Brook road we passed this gentleman who was walking along the road. With the recent rains, we decided to park and check out the falls. He approached us and asked if we knew where the pool was, that it had been years since he had been to it. I showed him the location of the pool which was now hidden due to the rushing high water. He sat at the edge of the pool for while and we noticed as we were getting ready to leave that he had decided to wade in. 

I guess I will round off this edition of Residents in nature with these two adventuresome hens who crossed the road to see what was on the other side. We were all caught in a shower shortly after making our acquaintance which is why I suppose that I haven't traveled too far form home myself. I hope to see you in August!

When Small Brooks Turn into Little Rivers

 

Sunday morning, after a Saturday night of rain, after a week of rain and with more rain in the forecast, I informed Wayne that we were holding off on breakfast in favor of touring Vernon's brooks. Did anyone even realize that we have a Vernon brook tour? I'd  blame / credit Martin for this; but then I'd be getting off point. 

Our first stop was where Town Brook flows through the village at Allison Ln. Scoping out both sides of the road, I realized that Vernon's investment in updating culverts was money well spent. This area of the neighborhood washed out a number of years ago during heavy rains; but oddly enough had not done so prior to that during Tropical Storm Irene. This morning there was a hearty water flow when typically this time of year the brook is dry here.

Our next brook is Newton where the fire pond is as high as I have seen. This is on Scott Rd on the southern end of Lily pond where the fire pond is. For the first time, I saw a small amount of water flowing from the pond underneath Scott Rd and into the typically dry streambed there. 

The fire pond is fed from both the stream to the left and from the pond to the right.

I'm taking some space here to document this as there has been some discussion in town as to the headwaters of Newton brook and if an early dam on the southern end or an attempt to drain the pond altered the natural tributary and trajectory of  the brook.

The stream to the left looking north from Scott Rd. 

Directly across from the fire pond the culvert is emptying into a typically dry bed of Newton brook and continues behind the Morrison's place

Once again facing the pond, the small seasonal stream flows down the hill off of Scott Road, over a driveway and into the fire pond.

I'm almost done geeking out at this location. Here is the stream flowing along Scott Rd. I promise you that we will get to bigger flows later.

This is again Newton brook, but further south where it flows under Pond Rd. Newton brook is on the left and flood waters to the right.

Looking north from the Newton brook fire pond on 142

Newton brook on the East side of 142 near the Mass border

 

We headed north on 142 to Stebbins road and stopped on the way when we saw ducks swimming amongst the corn stalks in a field that typically floods in the spring. I wasn't quick enough to get their picture however.

We found Island Meadow brook bypassing the dam just before it flows under Stebbins road. The brook is brown with silt.

Town brook from the driveway at the mill and post office with 142 in the background.

The big beautiful culvert where Town brook flows under 142

We headed towards Cold brook where it meets the CT River below the dam. I had anticipated seeing the flood gates open at the dam; but not a one was. I saw Gordon's video on the Vernon, VT Facebook group showing that this brook had given the resident's on West road a time of it this morning. We did drive up West road but couldn't see any flooding from the road. The drive did give me pause however when I considered what might happen if one day the multiple beaver dams on Cold brook were to give way releasing the water in large pond down the brook all at once.  

Remember that meandering little brook Wayne and I walked in on the way to Miller's Cove to go fishing? I fell into Jacks Brook that Sunday when descending the bank and got quite banged up. Jacks brook looked more substantial this morning and had me thinking that an innertube ride might be fun!

Here is what I promised to you in the beginning. This is where we discovered (possibly) one reason why the indigenous people called the Broad brook, "Little River." 

A clean water project has been in progress on Broad Brook Road with ditches being dug on the side opposite of the brook and culverts under the road to the brook.

One of two waterfalls. this is a first sighting for Wayne and I! We will pay better attention to the opposite side of the road from the brook this spring.

The second waterfall enters a culvert under the road and empties into the Broad brook.

The swimming hole under this side of the narrows has vanished under high waters!

My first surprise was seeing that the Vernon Hydro Station's flood gates were shut. My second surprise was seeing that the Broad Brook falls were consumed with flood waters giving the illusion of a significantly shorter drop.

It's really difficult for me to capture the power of waterfalls, I think this picture is as close as I could come.

We drove into Guilford and then took Franklin road back to 142. We stopped at Central Park Rd which is near the north end of Pond road to see the new culvert there. That beautiful culvert prevented flooding in what once was an area that routinely flooded into a field across the street. 

On our way up  Huckle Hill, we found that  Town Brook had washed over Hickory Hollow road. 

Unfortunately, this structure was on the receiving end of the flood.

Is seems unfathomable that in July of 2020, Vernon was suffering from a prolonged drought and Lily Pond was as low as I have ever seen it in our eighteen years here. Wayne reports that our neighbors in western Mass are nearing record rainfall for the month of July. With rain in tonight's forecast, we may see our brooks rise further still as our ground is already saturated. 

When our brooks run brown, we are seeing the effects of soil erosion. Silt in our water is reason for concern not only for those who are losing valuable topsoil, but because silt is a form of water pollution that negatively impacts aquatic life. In addition to silt though not readily visible in my pictures are other forms of pollution washing off of roads and even lawns.  

For the reasons I listed above, and for the preservation of infrastructure and even our homes, it is vital that we continue our progress in creating setback buffers from wetlands, that we reestablish native plants in our watersheds, recreate historical connections between surface waters and wetlands and yes, even in rural Vernon's landscape, that we limit our hardscape, indeed work to decrease our hardscapes in order to allow our natural areas to capture and filter water runoff. 

Nature's vegetative wetland sponges have historically all too often been discarded in the name of development which is seen by some as "progress." With climate change creating more frequent extremes in weather, it's more important than ever to adjust our mindset about what true progress is. I'm all for better roads, better bridges, better culverts, better buildings; but if we can only bring ourselves replace the term "better" with "thoughtful," we may find ourselves with more options than driving down a straight road towards climate change.  

Sometimes the big things seem all too big for people like us to contribute towards meaningful solutions. We've thrown up our hands and think what's the use? We point fingers at cities and other countries and chime, "What about them?".  But I'm telling you that you can create real progress right here and right now! Choose something, (one thing) anything that you are passionate about with an eye towards mitigating greenhouse gases. Champion one body of water, one brook, a river, a vernal pool or if you are able, an entire watershed!  Choose to prevent runoff and dust storms from lawns and fields by planting cover crops and replanting native plants, shrubs and trees. Look to our hills, peer into our valleys, examine your hearts, find something! Before it's too late -Norma Manning

Addendum: 

I did not include two brooks in this blog of which Martin wrote about previously in The Brooks of Vernon, they are Roaring Brook and Witch Gulch. Roaring Brook required a hike in soggy conditions and Witch Gulch was obstructed from view by plant growth. 

Jeff Nugent just prior to this flooding event, ventured to Roaring Brook with fellow hikers and granted me permission to post his email describing their high falls on Roaring Brook adventure.

"Lead by the intrepid Bob Spencer, three of us adventured off in search of Roaring Brook Falls earlier this week. After a brief detour ("Um, Bob? I think we're in.... Massachusetts?"), numerous puddle bypasses, three harrowing stream crossings, a challenging descent into the gorge, and miles of forests that looked magical in the evening mist, we finally made it.  Roaring Brook Falls in all its truly roaring glory! The ferns on the rocks near the base of the "middle" falls were actually waving in the turbulent air generated by the falls.  The last time I was there was with much les flow in the late 90's. It was nice to return."

Photograph (middle) by Jeff Nugent

Photograph (upper) by Jeff Nugent

Further information:

Climate change: Resilience and Adaptation in New England (RAINE)

Watershed Maps For Southeastern Vermont

Dominos

 

There are two things that Wayne grumbles about when it comes to gardening, paying for bags of dirt and paying to dump brush. He's not wrong, as it seems to be an endless cycle of buying dirt to grow things that will eventually end up as spring and fall yard cleanup. It's basically an endless money dump. 

Over the years, we have tried to come up with sensible and cheap solutions to buying and dumping and dumping and buying.  

Firstly, we create dirt from food and paper waste in our backyard compost pile. While I don't mind sharing this project with the occasional hungry critter, their consumption does cut into our dirt production. We also have a rather large brush pile which is quite difficult to keep to a reasonable size. I justify this stash of long term composting as being a much needed small animal sanctuary from overhead predators. Cynthia and Mary you may stop chuckling. I always imagine these sensible two, as scratching their heads at my critter invitations. Finally, having learned that Vernon allows fires in backyard firepits without requiring burn permits, Wayne and I spend time pretending to work as we sit and watch sticks burn. While most enjoyable, this is the least productive strategy as the wood ash must then be disposed of. Wayne doesn't like paying to dispose of wood ash any more than he likes paying to dispose of brush.

A volunteer mystery squash has grown where I used compost to transplant a lilac, thus once again proving that this is not an episode of the Victory Garden.

It was by pure serendipity that my dream of relocating our washing machine and dryer to the basement is finally happening. After our camping adventure, we came home to a thumping machine which Wayne promptly set out to repair. In the course of this endeavor, Wayne and I discovered that our new energy star washer had somehow become eighteen years old and the parts we needed are no longer available. The dryer to our set came with the house when we moved in and with Wayne being a self taught expert on dryer repair, we haven't a clue as to it's age. Admittedly it is a bit fussy, with my having to slam the door shut from the bottom right corner to activate the switch which starts the machine. This of course is a small price to pay for dry pants, and it gives me a bit of satisfaction as it announces to all within hearing distance that I am doing laundry. It runs on propane if anyone is interested in having it. 

Bear with me now as I explain that my chosen location for our laundry station is in the basement utility room. Moving it down there frees up the entryway closet to return to being a closet, which in turn frees up the dining room closet. Ahh the possibilities of having free space! The only challenge being that the utility room had somehow over the years, become a storage room. 

Would it help if I told you that while clearing out the entire basement, I found a note from my college years written with red ink in my creative writing notebook?  Dr. Nugent's grad student noted that I had in the first two paragraphs of a story, taken on two different perspectives. She asked with some excitement, if I had meant to do so intentionally. So there we have it Emily and Claire, it is my bonified writing style.

Let me begin again by saying that previous to the basement project, I had begun to fill my rainy days with such constructive activities as watching episodes of Hoarders. 

With my washing machine in the garage, rain in the forecast, my focus on the basement and a new found determination to sort through our belongings, I dropped on Wayne's to do list a stack of letters we had written to each other in the early 80s while he attended Navy boot camp and school in Chicago. Suddenly my episodes of Hoarders became a full season of Love Island as Wayne began to read excerpts to me. Well, we couldn't allow our children to discover our younger selves and we certainly couldn't risk that a squirrel would pick up our mail from the compost, so we began a "to be burned" pile. 

At the risk of going down the path of an episode of "Who Wore it Best?" and by way of explanation of how it is that I came to have so much paper in my basement,  I remind my readers of a certain age, that we used to fill our pockets with dimes so that we could make photo copies at the library while hand writing rough drafts of research papers. Yes, we may be proud members of the card catalog generation; but those who came after us rarely have the need to put thoughts to paper. They research without a trip to the library, they write, submit share and store their work magically. Best of all, when they are finished with it, all they have to do is delete it! On the other hand, while young parents today have energy efficient and water saving appliances, my generation grew up with appliances that could easily be repaired and handed down to us by our parents. In fact, I am certain that Wayne still has a hand held calculator from high school somewhere around here should any of my kids have need of it.

A solar collector field adorns the closed dump and makes for an interesting backdrop for a waste sorting area.

Now given Wayne's dislike of paying to dispose of items he previously purchased and my dislike of filling up landfills with things that could still have a function in the right hands, Wayne and I had our work cut out for us. 

Wayne suggested that we pay a visit to the Swap Shop at WSWMD which thankfully has a new policy of strict drop off only days and strict shopping only days. This seemed safer than a neighborhood yard sale where at I could sell my stuff and at the same time be tempted to buy my neighbors stuff. The only problem with this idea, was that we also had in storage items that were much loved and belonged to our now adult children. First things first, I took pictures and fired off a group message to them. I received the following diplomatic response from their spokesperson and our eldest daughter Kayden:

"Mom and Dad, thank you for blessing us with pets when we were young! I don't think any of us realized how unfeasible it would be to have them during this phase of our lives. It was a magical time."

It wasn't long after, that Wayne and I knowingly nodded to each other and agreed to participate in an episode of Pickers. With the Ford filled front to back, we made our way to Brattleboro only to be precariously stuck behind another early riser with similar ambitions.

As I mentioned before, there are rules at the WSWMD Swap Shop. One of the first rules being, to please try and find another recipient for your items prior to bringing them to the shop. To this end there are many avenues: from online Buy Nothing groups, to online marketplaces, from brick and mortar consignment and charities, to posting a free sign at the curb. Truth be told, there is a bit of a experiential learning curve, where you discover that your kids don't especially want or have space for your things and being a consumer is more often than not, going to cost you twice. Please just make sure that it's not costing the environment too! The hills and woods in Vernon actually have enough kitchen sinks, furniture and car parts at the moment. 

Just close your eyes Sugar Bear and hope that Toy Story is real.

Finally we had arrived at the last stop prior to the landfill.

The lamp that my sister passed on to us made it to the top shelf!

Everything comes back into fashion, but I'm rarely the same size when it does!

Where landlines and grandpa boxes end up.

I too always buy more paint than I can use in one project.

Blessed are those who find good in what others have discarded.

With an eye towards keeping the movie Wall-e in the realm of fiction, I will reiterate an old adage for us who span (dare I say) Boomers to the QVC era.  Indeed, this is for those of us who grew up believing that stuff equates love and that it's our economic duty to be consumers and collectors. I offer to us the now amended adage - All good things must come to an end, so let's find a responsible place for those good things. 

To those of you who are younger, who grew up hearing reduce, reuse and recycle, to those who learned from childhood that pocket phones equate social status, those whom I think of as the transitional generation, who at the tap of a keypad can have everything delivered right to your doorsteps, I offer to you an old margarine commercial slogan- "It's not nice to fool mother nature." Go ahead, I implore you to tap on the link and witness the influence that media had on your parent's generation as you prepare to be on the receiving end of your own group message from them. 

Now, someday if you are lucky enough, you will have young people in your lives who diplomatically explain to you that careful consumption prevents a whole lot of work and waste down the road.

This is a lot of cubic foot of staying cool.

These sets were the latest technology in their day.

Choices were made here

-Norma Manning