May 4th
Upon returning to my site in Centennial Woods for my last visit of the school year (how sad!), I noticed many more pops of color as just in this past week, new wildflowers have appeared! It was a nice surprise to find these flowers, sort of like a gift from my spot as I have to leave. See the photos below for the dandelions, bloodroot, hepatica, and trillium (not quite bloomed) that I saw, followed by some horsetails and fiddleheads that I also spotted during my visit. The last photo highlights my favorite finding- the buds of some soon-to-be beautiful flowers on a tamarack tree branch. In addition to the wildflowers, the stream was showing signs of spring as more water was rushing in its bed than usual, likely due to increased snowmelt from the mountains at higher elevation. Everything was much more green and full of life. I wish that I could stay to watch this place transition to summer so that I could witness a full cycle of phenological changes. Maybe when I return in August some of these summer signs will still be visible- something to look forward to upon coming back to school!
The cultural history of Centennial Woods is intertwined with the natural features and evidence of human settlement in the forest. The sandy soil that is found in areas close to my spot can be traced back nearly 10,000 years ago to the Champlain Sea. It was deposited from the delta of what would become the Winooski River. As it is known that the Abenaki tribe lived along the Winooski river, they likely lived and interacted with the area that is now designated as Centennial Woods Natural Area as well. It is important to note that this land was first home to indigenous peoples, and that it holds great value to them that should always be remembered and considered when developing the land. Post-European settlement, this land was used for agriculture, and there is evidence of farms seen in the woods such as barbed wire and stonewalls. Even though Centennial Woods is one of the oldest forests in the area, it still isn’t an old growth forest; the oldest trees started growing and reestablishing the forest after the farmland was abandoned. It wasn’t until the 1970s that this area was designated as a UVM Natural Area. The story of these woods goes back many years and is unique. Sometimes I forget to think about the cultural history of the nature I submerse myself in, but as I am reminded of these stories, I value the journey of the forest and all of the people and perspectives that have filled its space.
After visiting this spot in Centennial Woods for my first two semesters at UVM, I can say that it truly has become “my place” here. I have visited it to relax when I am stressed out, and I have visited it when I’m looking to get outside and adventure. I have visited it in rain and shine. I have visited it in the fall, winter, and spring, and I have watched it change throughout these seasons. I have watched the trees lose their leaves and become covered in snow, and I have seen wildflowers bloom. I have listened to chirping birds and the rustle of squirrels’ feet running by in the leaf litter. I have watched the little stream run dry. I have sat on “my rock” for hours. I feel that I truly am a part of this place. I have spent so much time in it that I know its patterns and unique features. As cheesy as it sounds, it has filled a special place in my heart that I know will last, and I will visit it throughout the rest of my time at UVM. Also, I would just like to mention that as I have been writing this blog, I have continuously heard David Attenborough’s voice in my head narrating it for me, so I must end by quoting him… “An understanding of the natural world and what’s in it is a source of not only a great curiosity but great fulfillment.”
And finally, finally, here is a poem that I wrote sitting on my rock during my last visit to my place:
I wonder,
Does this soil ever think that it is too dark?
Do the rich, black particles ever compare themselves to the fine, light-colored sand?
I wonder,
Are these raindrops ever scared of falling?
Do they have trouble letting go of the sky, uncertain of where exactly they will end up?
I wonder,
Does this sun ever have trouble rising in the morning?
Does it still shine bright even when it feels depressed?
I wonder,
Do these rocks ever feel self-conscious about their weight?
Do they ever wish that they could erode away?
I wonder,
Do these trees ever get mad at the wind for breaking their companions?
Do they ever long to run away from home?
I wonder,
Does this wind ever become tired of blowing?
Does it ever wish it could just sit still?
I wonder,
Does this stream ever think about stopping and turning back the other way?
Does it question if it is heading in the right direction?
I wonder,
Does this ground ever hate me for walking upon it?
Does it feel compressed by the weight of my body; does it enjoy the massage of my footsteps on its back?
I wonder,
Do the soil and rain and sun and rocks and trees and wind and stream and ground feel as human as I feel I am a part of nature?
Do they view me as a part of them as I view them as a part of me?
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