For my new phenology spot, I chose an area of similar geographical features as my one in Burlington.  My new spot lies just off the path of a hiking trail about a mile from my house in North Andover, Massachusetts in what’s known as the Osgood Hill trail network on the grounds of the old Stevens Estate.  Similarly to my spot in Centennial Woods, this new spot features a small brook traveling through the forest before emptying into a larger flat and shallow wetland area.  The stream in Massachusetts is not as wide as the one in Centennial Woods, but the tree species on either side of the stream are largely the same in both places.  The one difference I noted was there is a patch of Red Pines along part of the stream.  I kept an eye out for more Red Pines as I continued the rest of my hike, but did not see any others besides the patch by the stream.  All of the six-or-so trees are about the same age and stand closely together, so I am curious as to how they got there and whether it was natural, or if someone planted them there purposely.  I also noticed the human interferences in both areas.  In Centennial Woods, human disturbances include noise pollution from the airport and walkers, litter I find on occasion, and the chunk of boardwalk that washed up in Centennial Brook in my spot.  At the Stevens Estate, there is noise from the nearby road, airport, and other hikers.  Also, I found some oil in the stream, which likely came from runoff from the road.

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> fiddlehead.

A Piece of a boardwalk washed up in the brook

Forest floor littered with Red Oak and Norway Maple leaves

Now able to see through much of the forest

More sunlight throughout the forest from canopy loss

My chest heaves

As I weave through the leaves

That the winter’s frost

Forgot to freeze and rot.

Can they see me

Through these trees?

I stop and drop

On my knees atop

The leaves.

I will my breath to cease.

The cop could hear me

Breathe release and seize

My need for victory.

This is not hide-and-seek.

This is man hunt.

Down on the ground

I hide from the sound

Of boys being found.

I confide in the dark bark

Around and bide my time.

I will not be found.

I will not be found.

The light in the night glows

From the life that shows

Bright through the windows.

Husband and wife and

Husband and wife whose

Excitement ignites echoes

That grow

And grow

And go.

I look to the stars that are

As they are and feel

Like a crook as I steal

A look from afar.

The cries of the guys dwindle

And die as they meander

Inside while I hide

And kindle my pride.

For I know what they don’t

And can feel what they won’t

Since what’s real is a joke

Because real is this oak

Where I feel the surreal.

So go.

I’ll sit here alone

With my dear oak and grow

On my own in this queer

World so near unknown.

And I’ll glow.

And I’ll glow.

But for now I go

With poise back to the boys

Who don’t know.