mouseWhat's New in the Woods
I live on nine acres at the edge of the Adirondack Mountains where the forest begins . This is a mixed forest of tall pine trees and hardwoods, like maple. Many birds and animals live in these woods, and the ground is covered with beautiful small plants. On this page you and I will explore the woods together, watching the seasons change, and waiting quietly for those rare, magical moments when animals appear.

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Winter- No season appears so suddenly or with such drama as winter here in the Adirondacks. This year, fall extended through Thanksgiving with some rather warm weather. A frosty night was rare, but on the 5th of December 2009, the snow began to fall, just in time for my annual Christmas party. How nice is that? The woods beyond my clearing were sugar coated in white.

 

As friends gathered for the party, we put candles on one of the outdoor trees, gathered 'round, and sang carols.

 

 

 

 

 

The next day I stopped to photograph the meadow that I have spent a lot of time in, gathering data and ideas for The Big Meadow. This field has been owned by the same family, my neighbors, since 1796, a remarkable record. Here is how it looked after the first snow. As usual, a clear and cold day followed the snow storm.

The first snow was light, but soon after a good storm, dumped about a foot of snow and the promise of a White Christmas. Cross country skiing became possible, although it was more like wading in the snow than sliding along. The snow was compacted by some warm weather and rain right after Christmas. This formed a solid base for skiing. With a few inches of beautiful powder snow on top of that the skiing was good, and I headed out for a jaunt through the woods on the afternoon of New Years Eve.
First I crossed the meadow, noting how the grasses and weeds held the snow in place, while in the lower part of the meadow that had been mowed, some of the powder snow was blown clear, leaving an icy surface. A day before that I had found fox tracks nearby, and the remains of mouse, complete with tail, that had served as a meal for the fox.

Today the sky was heavily overcast and darkness was not far off. I carried a headlamp, matches and some emergency supplies, as well as a cell phone. You can't be too careful when heading into the deep woods alone. The trails are logging roads, and they look like this before they are skied on.

After about an hour, with darkness approaching, I decided to turn back. More snow was expected, not a blizzard, but a few more inches. No animals were moving. The tracks of deer, which are common, were all snow covered. Even the birds were completely silent.

On the way home, I passed the haunts of Harvey Layton, a hermit who lived near here for years until he died in the 1980's. The stream where Harvey gathered water, is bordered by a stone wall, with this large stone placed over the stream like a bridge. The stones remind me that once this land had all been cleared. The trees were cut, the stumps pulled out and the stones that littered the fields were hauled to the edge and piled into walls. All that took an enormous amount of labor. These fields were probably used mostly for pasture, as the soil here on the mountain is not the best for growing crops. Now the farms are gone and the forest has taken over once again.

Moving steadily along, the light is growing dimmer, although it is still bright enough in places like this where a swampy stream provides an opening in the trees. I stop to listen and look around, hoping to catch a glimpse of a deer, or if I am really lucky, a fisher. No animals appear, and I keep moving to be home before dark. Tonight the moon will be full. It is lovely to ski by moonlight, but with heavy clouds, I doubt whether the moon will appear.

In the dense hemlock woods close to home, I cross the stream on the log bridge I made last winter. The light is really fading now, but I don't have far to go.

A short ski though the trees brings me out into the clearing where my house stands, trimmed out with Christmas lights. One of the great pleasures of skiing in the woods is coming back, tired and happy, and seeing your own house, warm and cozy, welcoming you home.

Happy New Year Everyone,

Bruce