Over the past decade stewarding 50 acres of land in the Virginia Piedmont, BD, and I have learned a bit about the timbering process. We have also witnessed, up close and in a sober and reverential way, the ability of Mother Earth to do everything in her power to reclaim damaged land after clear-cut logging takes place. On February 13, a thick white business envelope arrived via snail mail. It contained a message we would prefer not to receive, though it was not a complete surprise. The cover letter held an offer to purchase the back corner of our property so that access would be easier for the machinery needed for timbering 650 acres of forest extending east from our boundary.

In this satellite image our farm, Black Bear Glen, is outlined in blue. Our 11,000 pine trees are imaged as the green rectangle inside the blue box (the pink flag is our cabin location, the yellow flag marks the stone piles from the original homestead cabin ruins.) Our 11,000 pines cover about 12 acres. They are spaced at the maximum distance from one another, six feet. That gives a sense of scale for the lumbering that will be taking place next door … the 650 acres of pines extends well off of this map from our east edge over. 

Thousands upon thousands of trees, originally planted as close together as possible to maximize the yield, will be cut and stacked on the back of flatbed logging trucks in the months ahead. BD had a conversation with the man who won the bid on the auctioned land. He will cut, replant and leave the subsequent harvest to the next generation. Trees as a crop.

(c) Drozda, Timberline, Acrylic/canvas, 54 x 54″, 2006, Private Collection

Backing up to February 2010, on the day that the papers were signed, we registered the 50-acres with the farm bureau and ordered 11,000 loblolly pine seedlings through the Virginia Department of Forestry. 

2010, BD with a newly planted seedling. The soil is packed hard like concrete.

Prior to being clear-cut, our land was thick with a mature mixed hardwood forest. It had probably been timbered many times previously, perhaps the last time about 30-50 years ago. The trees are cut, the roots remain and begin to grow fast and furiously sending out multiple saplings, a process referred to as coppicing.  Forested land is auctioned, the winning bid gives the buyer the right to remove every useable tree as this earlier post shows.

 

Thankfully our land has several meandering creeks and springs that retain the canopy of a large riparian buffer of stately mixed hardwood trees. We have made an uneasy peace with the fact that in this part of Virginia many acres of trees are viewed as crops. As consumers of wood products, we do our best to understand where the wood comes from. Now, eleven years into our experience, it hurts just as much to know that timbering of the trees next door is imminent. The equipment will begin to arrive as soon as the ground dries enough to let the trucks in. The cutting will start shortly thereafter.

Lumbering equipment is heavy. The gigantic tires compact the soil, entombing creatures that live beneath the surface. The movement of the trucks and rigs back and forth week after week creates trenches in the earth that fill with rainwater. That trapped water in the heavy clay soil then holds oil slicks and these tire tread gullies remain for decades. 

I recall the first visit to the land that would become ours. BD and her twin siblings had recently sold the 125-acre farm that they grew up on in upstate Michigan. Dad and his ten siblings had been born in the brick farmhouse.  With this chapter closed BD, upon her sister’s suggestion, decided to buy her own farm. As long as I had known her, BD had dreamed of being able to purchase a piece of land so that the land could simply be left alone. She would often consider a vacant lot in town or an empty big box store and imagine that one could revert to its natural state while the other could be converted into a hydroponic greenhouse. It wasn’t a great surprise when she suggested, two days after Christmas in 2009, that we drive out and look at a piece of land that she had discovered for sale online.

Four hours later and just minutes away from Appomattox Courthouse National Monument, we drove off a short paved state road onto a hardpack, red clay timbering road. A late December snowfall softened the lines of the bombed-out land.

I had never walked on clear-cut earth before. It’s dangerous with each and every step a potentially broken ankle. The amount of debris remaining after the logging is hard to take in. Huge piles of waste wood, tangles of branches, and roots left in large piles made me think of how in third world countries people have to forage for cooking firewood finding whatever scant pieces in deforested areas that were once lush with trees.

I felt anger and dismay. I hurt for the wildlife and for the trees themselves. I walked among the stumps and tangled branches through the snow saying, ‘I am so sorry. I am so sorry Mother Earth. I am so sorry birds, insects, animals, so sorry that this has happened.’ 

That was our first visit. Really just a field trip. Then BD emailed an offer. Someone else did too. The land was sold. End of that story until two weeks later. The deal had fallen through. The 50 acres was once again available. The purchase was made and we began traveling from Wren House to our 50-acre experiment every weekend. We saw it, from the first day, as a laboratory. We were filled with wonder as to what the land would do as it repaired. It has been an education that has made me feel like part of nature in a way that is much bigger than I could have known. 

I have always been a nature girl; me and my dog … birding, hiking, walking, sitting on nature trails with my sketchbook in hand come naturally. Building an intimate relationship with this land, I have become a bonified nature steward. During this year of lock-down, we visit the farm often and stay longer than we had been able to before the pandemic. I continue to expand my hiking paths through the dense regrowth by following deer paths.  Now I am a lover of one 50-acre “room without a roof” entrusted to me. I am researching conservation easements and intend to discover a way to leave a legacy by creating My Land Plan

The timbering of the 650 acres that borders our land to the east is going to happen. It is unwanted news. We’ve all had plenty of that recently. However, I have learned that the nature of nature is to grow. I dream of a day when we learn to value the earth and develop different sustainable timbering practices. They exist. They simply are not convenient for the fast pace that we think is necessary for just about everything we want. BD recalls her dad having the woods on their family farm thinned using horses to remove the trees through selective harvesting meant to improve the overall health of the land. That doesn’t happen here. This is the timbering industry. This is about the bottom line, the profit margin. We declined the February 13 offer to purchase the back corner of our healing land. 

What we’ve learned from the experience of witnessing the decade since our land was timbered, is that the nature of nature is to grow. There is an explosion of growth that follows clearcutting. With the dense canopy of tall trees removed the sun touches the soil for the first time in decades. Grasses sprout quickly and are the first year’s bounty, a mixture of seeds that attract songbirds.  The land having been traumatized also creates a defense system made up of invasives such as honeysuckle, poison ivy, multiflora rose, sweetbriar, and wild grapevine. Soon the pollinating and creeping, crawling insects, reptiles, bats, turkeys, and upland birds such as the goatsuckers, quail, and the charming woodcocks arrive. Within a few seasons, the land becomes a prime habitat for fox, coyote, bobcat. Deer and bear forage the wild berries and nuts. The trees grow fast. Within ten years the land transitions from a young forest to a maturing woodland.

 

These are a few of our trees that were boot high ten years ago

I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
Around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
Where I left them, asleep like cattle…

Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
And the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.

Wendell Berry

I dedicate this post to a deep love for these beautiful, magical giants … trees, The Standing Ones.

 I share this short video on City Trees and a one-hour film: My Passion for Trees with Dame Judi Dench, a kindred spirit indeed. 

Let’s all plant a tree, hug a tree, and thank a tree.

(c) Drozda, Family Tree, Acrylic/board, 48 x 36″, 2002