Accessing Autumn: Part Three

 "To advise, foster and sustain a community wide vision that Vernon's natural resources are an integral part of who we are and what we seek to conserve, restore and improve upon for the mutual benefit of all its inhabitants."- Vernon Conservation Committee mission statement: (Ratified 10/ 26/2021).

This is the third part in the series that includes "Hunting for Autumn" and "In Search of Autumn." I previously discussed the work of the Vernon Trailbreakers Snowmobile Club's efforts to maintain and establish trails within Vernon's borders and the Vernon Recreation Department's initiative to develop a master plan that in part aims to improve and extend to Vernon residents a connection to a town wide trail system. In this edition (as promised) I will bring you on an Autumn picture walk on a portion of Vernon VAST trail 1 which traverses VT state lands in the Roaring Brook Wildlife Management Area.

For reference purposes, I do not recommend that motorists attempt to access the trail from the end of West Rd as this route bisects the driveway of a horse farm and a small scale logging operation. Additionally, the resident dogs are wholly unappreciative of automobiles.

Not far from the posted yellow state sign, we came upon a familiar gate harkening back to our April adventure, From Miller Farm to Maynard J Town Forest. We had first found this gate after a long hike which began with us parking at the Vernon Town Hall. We were surprised by the quick access to VAST trail 1 from the top of West Rd.

One quick picture of Autumn leaves resting on an Eastern Hemlock sapling,

and we were upon the powerlines, a view of NH mountains and the Connecticut River Valley.

Though we had achieved our goal in short order, Wayne decided that we should continue south to the Roaring Brook Extension trail.

We never made it to the extension as I voted to take an unmarked trail heading west.

Well perhaps not so much as a trail as an adventure.

Many seasonal pools remain due to a wet summer

Power lines to the east of us

Power lines to the west of us

We decided on the east trail.

Though still on her long lead, Luna felt the need to blaze her own trail.

We found ourselves above the vista on the VAST 1 trail. VY can be seen from here.

I spent some time performing an "archaeological" dig. 

I was pretty proud of my pottery reclamation, though I'm not entirely sure of what it was.

 Another look at the view

and it was time to head back.

How could I resist one more picture?

A while back Don Rosinski made a request of Vernon residents that we pen letters to the state in an effort to persuade them that Lillis Pasture (on the north side of RBWMA / off of Tyler Hill Rd) be purchased and added to the the Roaring Brook Wildlife Management Area. I along with many others obliged in this request. This land acquisition is now completed. I believe that in cooperation with the state of VT, the Vernon Selectboard, Vernon Planning Commission, Vernon Recreation Department, Trailbreakers Snowmobile Club and the newly formed Vernon Conservation Committee, this could be the ideal opportunity to locate parking on the north end of the RBWMA. Parking combined with intentionally developing / improving equitable access to the trail system and our natural resources for persons of all abilities, in my estimation should be a community and state priority. -Norma Manning

Angry Gardening: In Search of Autumn Part Two

 I used to watch my mother take spade and knife to Iris bulbs and roots. She would hack, slice, untangle and either put them in paper bags for next year, return them to their plot or donate them to the church sale. And when crawly things invaded her potted plants, she would dump the pot and shake the soil out of their roots onto a baking sheet. The house would fill with the smell of hot dirt and anything else that was unfortunate enough to make a home in it. Her red Geraniums were shown little mercy come Autumn, as stems and flowers were cut down to a few inches above the dirt and tossed aside. Mom rarely bought new Geraniums, instead she lined them up along the basement stairs and forgot about them until the next spring. Mom always grows the most beautiful flowers.

In some folklore the Praying Mantis represents Spirituality

I began my October Saturday doing a bit of angry gardening and debating whether or not I should share with my readers this near and dear to my heart mental health strategy. It seems that there are plants that are determined to live or die in spite of all of the productive and counter productive practices that we apply to them and every so often I take advantage of that fact. I have blueberry bushes that have been transplanted no fewer than four times in order to make room for some other shrub that dies within the season. 

The French once thought that the Praying Mantis would point a lost child home *

I chose loppers, hedge clippers, bypass clippers, and a bow saw from the shed; for after a difficult week it suddenly occurred to me that the hedge on the east side of the yard was in desperate need of my attention. When Wayne came out, he found me with under a bush with sticks tangled in my hair as I battled the roots of an invasive vine. He asked what my plans were for the day. Upon noting my curt response, Wayne returned to the house to change his clothes. By the time I began to feel better, every other shrub had been removed from the line and tossed into the trailer along with miles of ropelike vines.  Being in nature is good for the soul. 

Last week in Hunting for Autumn  I mentioned that Wayne and I had once again gone in search of an easier access from the north to Vast Trail "1"  which is located in the Roaring Brook Wildlife Management Area. We had previously searched for access off of Franklin Rd but with no parking available, we ended up parking at the town hall and hiking up 1-A / Millers Crossing to 1. Don's mention last weekend that he had opened the gate for trail maintenance on West Rd nudged Wayne and I to once again strike out to find another more direct access to the trail. After all, how hard is it to find an open gate with parking on West Rd?

After slowly driving up and down the road, I urged Wayne to pull over so that I could walk a few feet past a gate. I asked two men there if they knew of a gate that lead to the power lines. They directed me to one gate up, but that lead to the old gravel pit which is now a solar field. We continued once again up West Rd only to find a large group of lost dirt bikers exiting from (what I think is) Thunder Bird Rd. They said that they had come from Bernardston, were looking for Basin Rd and were unable to help us with finding our trail. In this area there are signs that state "no thru traffic" and "Road ends in private driveway" but there aren't any "no trespassing" signs. Even so, we headed back down West rd until we ran into Gordon. Gordon said that it would be okay to continue on past those signs and we would find an open gate there. 

It was after we drove past the third open gate and found a fourth that we decided to park and start hiking on the trail to the left.

Not far up the trail we ran into a yellow VT state lands sign.

I am sure that like myself, my readers are wondering why it's so difficult to access the trails on state lands here in Vernon. It seems peculiar that we must hunt down parking spaces and are made to feel like trespassers in order to enjoy our public resources. As mentioned in previous blogs, the trails are made available in December via the VAST trail network and can be accessed either from the Maynard J Miller Town Forest parking on Basin Rd or by parking at the Vernon Town Hall and hiking Miller's Crossing to the WMA. This is fine if you are in search of a day's hike and are able bodied; but shouldn't state lands be made available to anyone in search of  recharging their soul in nature? I mean, eventually I'm going to run out of bushes in my yard in need of adjustment.

As it turns out, our very own Recreation Department is applying for a planning grant that in part strives to find a way to help residents feel more connected to our natural resources. This is a good thing, as I think that with all of the added stress of a pandemic we have realized as a community that there is healing in our woods. 

Next week I will finally post photographs from our hike that began where West Rd ends.

Rest in Peace Joan and Gregory Safford, may your new trail lead you home.

 -Norma Manning

*The Old Farmers Almanac, Praying Mantis: Predator of the Garden

Hunting For Autumn

 Anyone who has ever poured a glass of cold milk only to discover upon their first sip that it was actually orange juice, understands what a seventy five degree day in the middle of October feels like to a Vermonter.  Vernon's Halloween decorations are out, pumpkins are perched and some leaves are on the ground; yet the month seems to be slipping by without a nod to the winter months to come. 

My summer shirts are still in the closet and Wayne is still wearing shorts as if he were a high school student waiting for a bus in November. Marigolds, Zinnias, Blackberries, Queen Ann's Lace, Azaleas (yes Azaleas) and a lovely butter yellow wildflower that I don't yet know the name of are blooming even as our Asters and Sedum have gone to seed. How can anyone be expected to commence with Fall chores with all of this going on?

We took a drive last weekend on Rt 100 and found that the license plates had already peaked up North. We saw hills full of NY yellow, CT & DE blue,  MA red, and even some Midwest white. We stopped by an apple orchard, where oddly enough Maple Creemees were still in high demand and the only apples left to pick (fittingly enough) were Empires.

While we were walking the dogs yesterday after sunset, Don pulled over in his truck to talk. It seems that Don and the Vernon Trail Breakers Snowmobile Club had been working on replacing a bridge. Don told me to look in the bed of his truck and sure enough the remains of the old bridge were there. Don explained that Fall is the last chance to get the trail work done and though the trails are open to all, they rely on a yearly thirty dollar membership fee to cover their expenses. Now I know Don to be an avid hunter, and so clearly doing chores during deer season for the benefit of his winter activities, must come at some personal cost as well. I think it's fitting that all who utilize the trails, chip in one way or another for their upkeep.

Now I know what people with fishing licenses like me and those with hunting licenses are thinking, because I used to think the same thing. Our licenses already pay for conservation of VT lands and wildlife so why should I have to thank a Trailbreaker, kick in my time or money to the local snowmobile club? Well, the answer lies in the back of that Vernon Vermonter's pickup. 

Don also mentioned that he opened up the gate on West road to the powerlines and just so you know, this is the reason our chores are left undone and my blog is late going to press. I'll take up that hike in part two of Hunting For Autumn which I will post next Sunday. 

Until then, enjoy Vernon's trails but be respectful out there. You wouldn't want to get into trouble on the trail! - Norma Manning

Not an Eagle: Better

 On a sunny warm autumn day, I sat down beside her on the buddy bench, "Nobody want's to be my friend, they just don't like me because of my color." I took a deep breath and held it. I knew that there would be more to say. She lifted her chin, looked at me in the eyes and repeated, "They don't like my color." It was then that she plucked at the stretchy fabric of her pants between her small thumb and index finger, "My pants are the wrong color...I'm different."  

Many years ago now, I received an early morning phone call from a mother of one of my children's friends. She needed to know if it was a pink day. It seemed that her daughter was sitting on the edge of her bed crying because she couldn't remember if she was allowed to wear pink on that day. I had no idea what she was talking about back then; but I remember to this day that phone call.

It seems that for a planet so full of diversity, an oddity that on this Vermont autumn day near the peak of color and at the same place, that these experiences would merge in my thoughts. 

It came in low on wing from the south not long after the morning damp was finally lifted. The children noticed at once shouting in chorus, "An eagle! An eagle!" It dipped slightly more in a graceful arc causing every child in its view to give chase.  For a moment I considered that it might not clear the garage; but with great black wings spread, the bird lifted itself up landing just to the side of the peak. Its back to the playground and its head to the fields the bird suddenly appeared clumsy as it slipped slightly on the metal roof. 

Their cheering brought more cheers as the bird righted itself on the peak and faced them. I foolishly felt the need to inform them in their jubilation that it was in fact not an eagle, but rather a Turkey Vulture. They began chanting "caw caw caw" and the bird responded by spreading out its wings. I wondered why given the commotion, that it didn't simply fly off to a more peaceful place. Louder than before they sang "Caw, caw, caw!" The children spread their own wings as they ran around in circles and then   stared in anticipation of the great bird answering them again. 

Photo by Tessa Carpenter

 

Photo by Tessa Carpenter

Photo by Tessa Carpenter

I spoke with other adults there that day who were equally amused by the children's excitement over the "eagle" answering their call to play. We spoke about it however in adult terms and decided that the bird was in reality a juvenile Turkey Vulture drying off and warming up before continuing on with its first migration to the Carolinas.  None of this of course had mattered to the children who had instantly discovered a new friend.

The child on the buddy bench though completely earnest in their conversation, was interrupted by a classmate wanting them to play. Without so much as a farewell, they leapt from the bench with a huge grin and together they ran off leaving me to my thoughts.

As for the little girl who didn't know if it was a pink day, she is now the mother of a most amazing little girl who causes me to smile at her resemblance to her mother and like her mother, I know that one day she will spread her wings and fly -Norma Manning 

Connecting Old Roads and Trails to Vernon

 Sometimes we find what we seek right under our noses if we take the time to look at it from another orientation. 

On last Sunday morning Wayne was with me in the living room as I wrote my week's blog post in Nature Finds. Wayne always reads my work prior to posting to ensure that my poetic nature doesn't lead our readers too far into the fantastical realm. Of course on this day, it was a more difficult exercise as I had after all mentioned our quest. In the end however, it was "The Wild One" who prevailed; and so it was that I withheld my very character and produced a blog rooted in a singular point of orientation. 

Now you may have noticed that I wrote "The Wild One" in lieu of Wayne and this is precisely because that was one of the variations of Wayne's nickname during his growing up years and because Wayne in truth had to that point only been coauthoring within my head. 

It was when Wayne actually had finished editing Hike Bernardston MA to the Town Forest, that he began to formulate the thought that we should attempt to hike from the town forest to Bald Mountain Road in Bernardston. While it's true that we had only recently completed that very hike from the other direction, Wayne wasn't quite satisfied with the fact that we hadn't actually connected with any of the town forest trails. For my part, I agreed to his notions because in my soul I had yet to complete "the quest."

We picked up the State Line Loop, looking for a promising point from which to enter.  

At the place where the trail stops going south and begins heading more east than south, Wayne figured that we maybe ought to continue going south. I wondered if this was perhaps an abandoned road as the sides were higher than the center.

This area is comprised of newer growth than what is found along the State Line Trail. Perhaps we were following an old logging road? 

Our chosen path terminated with downed trees and thick brush; but a natural line of rocks extended by what appeared to be a man made berm or landfill, coaxed us down and to to the right towards a small clearing. 

A quick hop across a brook,

only to discover yet another trail's end.

Wayne and I are accustomed to backtracking while scouting out trails. In doing so, we often find wonderful things with our second look around.

Wayne has learned to be patient with me as I always take numerous versions of the same photograph in an attempt to capture my exact response to nature. Below is a picture of Wayne patiently waiting while I took no less than a half a dozen photographs of that beautifully twisted tree in the sun's rays. I will also let you know that it took great restraint on my part not to post all six of my tree pictures!

And here is Wayne heading up the trail after giving up on me ever tearing myself away from that old tree.

As it so happened, Wayne was the first to reach the point that had initially guided us towards the right. When I caught up to him, he had already commenced to figuring out if we ought to press on straight through fallen trees and brush for another try or continue backtracking. It's important to remember that when we fist encountered this exact location we were both facing south; but having just having caught up to Wayne, I was now facing east. 

I don't exactly know how to describe the feeling of completing one quest by accident while at the same time actively undertaking an entirely different one. We had set out to connect the town forest trail system to Bald Mountain road and instead we came across our fifth MA / VT state line marker in Vernon! 

This cement marker is clearly not of the same vintage as the granite markers set in 1896; but it is still a pretty neat find.

I am certain that those who have experience hiking the State Line Trail in the Vernon Town Forest understand that one doesn't have to venture off trail in order to find several opportunities to jump the line into MA. There is after all, a sign posted for anyone to take a selfie with while doing so. And truth be told, though this adventure seems quite long, this marker isn't much more than a hop a skip and a jump from the forest trail itself. 

I convinced Wayne to head east and follow the red state line blazes that separate Vernon from MA. We came across the same type of posting that we had seen at the gate while hiking to the forest from Bald Mountain road. I later confirmed with Seth and his amazing app on his phone, that there is no additional private land in MA that shares a border with the forest. This of course means that are free to explore this area on subsequent hikes.

We followed the brook that originates in the swamps of the town forest; ending our day's adventure back on the State Line Trail.

Solving the mystery of weather or not there is a state line marker close to the place where Bald Mountain Road may have once terminated, caused me to consider the relationship between orientation and discovery. We had after all, set out to solve one curiosity only to satisfy another. 

Following Wayne back to our car, something prompted me to wonder if even more of these markers were out there waiting to be found and what else we might find while searching for them.

Perhaps we will find another the next time we venture out to connect old roads and trails to Vernon. -Norma Manning