Blockade

January 5, 2020January 6, 2020 / Jeff Cann

The ramshackle jumble of tumble-down trees builds a blockade at the edge of my yard. Brown, mostly brown with highlights of muted green—ivy smothered trees, frozen, dried, projecting brown as well. So brownish on brown, in fading light it’s hard to focus on any one object. Fifteen years ago, my house freshly purchased, no deadfall, no brambles, no saplings cluttered our view, blocking our escape into nature. A clean forest floor—clear of obstacles except poison ivy patches—invited exploration, at least during winter. No one maintains these woods anymore. I don’t know who did before. Fallen trees, a dozen, now mar the landscape, impassable to all save the deer who come to eat our bushes, the wiry stems, before they bud into spring.

10 thoughts on “Blockade”

We have the same blockade at the edge of our yard too. The township owns the land, but it is mostly untended. Perfect for critters and, therefore, critter-watching!

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Jeff Cann

January 6, 2020 at 2:27 am

As I wrote this, four deer hung out on the border snacking. We see skunks, fox, hawks and owls, but what we see most are neighborhood cats sunning themselves on a particularly large fallen tree.

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