Hanging On at Craven Gap
Well, December has indeed become a challenging month in this country. The issues surrounding our election are being resolved and a transition is beginning, but the pandemic is raging on. Last week my dog and I were hiking the trail from Craven Gap north. At one point, we came upon this root system that seemed to be clawing the earth and hanging on with great intent. When I saw it, I related instantly to the need to both expand and find multiple points to attach to life in this moment, because it all seems to tenuous and who knows what contact points will hold, coupled with the need to ground and burrow deeper down into the earth and remain in one location. Lichen and other life forms clung to the roots, making me realize that we all need to help and support each other and that ironically doing nothing could be the most positive action we can take, besides of course donating to food banks and other supportive services.
Another sight that stopped me short was this canopy. A fragile and thin, most likely ill hemlock tree was trapped within a group of falling trees that were caught and buttressed by some healthier trees whose roots were able to cling with more force, or perhaps the ground under their roots was firmer. When things fall in the forest and in life, they do not always topple to the ground right away. In this case, the falling trees were woven amid strong branches and, for the time being at least, the forest canopy existed in a state of suspended balance that might or might not hold through the next storm. I feel that is where we are now. We are doing our best to stay safe but daily the community spread grows and it is riskier and riskier to go out in the world. Many are tired of quarantining and the absence of social engagement for so long is driving people to a precipice of sanity, but if we can find a way to hang on a little longer it likely will lead to a better outcome for ourselves and our fellow citizens–especially the elderly and those with pre-existing conditions.
For a moment, I will switch to color to help evoke hope in dark times and so you can feel the fresh air of the Blue Ridge that helps support so much biodiversity. Though trees may be bare in winter and appear almost dead, there is a bright side to this season too as outdoor views become more expansive and we can see distant horizons where the sky is blue and white clouds are carried on ever-changing air currents. Though the winter season may bring many indoors and we can feel trapped and even depressed at times, we would do well to remember that seasons never stop changing and that winter too has its purpose. The snow that comes will add fresh water to our mountain streams, and when it melts it will help the spring flowers blossom and our crops grow. As a people, we have become too accustomed to only thinking about the moment or the current month or week. Instant gratification is often at the expense of our future survival. And though I do celebrate living in the moment and being grateful for each day I am alive, this does not mean that we should not expand our horizons and act in ways that benefit the greater good in a sustainable way. Sometimes sacrifices are necessary and when we make them, our futures are brighter.
Often we think of rocks as inanimate, but they can also be habitat for so many lifeforms that they almost seem to be alive themselves. This rock was located near a seep and you can see in the dark areas just how moist it was. It was festooned with lichen, moss, and dormant and browning plant life. When I saw the shape the lichen formed, I felt like I was looking upon angel or butterfly wings. Our ability to travel has been severely curtailed and many people I have spoken with have told me they feel like this is a lost year. It may be lost to the adventures we once had, but for me it has also provided an opportunity to dig deeper and to study the place where a live and learn to recognize so much about its rhythms and life sustaining properties. I have dug in the dirt and viewed things through my microscope and seen the miracle of life already me–even in places I would never have given a second thought to before.
The Appalachians are old or young depending on your geological perspective, but either viewpoint you adopt, they are part of the earth that supports our existence. This large boulder had broken off from a large slab of rock behind it. Geological forces–compression, fractures, and intrusions were all visible, which demonstrated the complexity of life and all the forces the planet and all life is subject to. I think that is what of the reasons I love geology so much. Looking at rocks and mountains and fissures always makes me ponder the evolution of my own psyche and to appreciate the sometimes painful forces that have molded me into who I am. When I saw this scene, I was particularly drawn to the layer of grass crowning the boulder with just a thin layer of soil remaining. It doesn’t take much for life to keep on living and reaching for the sun, but it is also very fragile and flooding rains could easily wash away this thin layer of dirt and destroy the lifeforms it is home to. Life is both scrappy and tenacious and delicate. The outcome all comes down to balance in the environment, and when that balance is upended.
At another point in the trail, I came upon these two trees, one with a hole all the way through its trunk and another that was shifting in the eroding soil and was leaning but still able to arch and bend to remain standing while reaching for the sun. Until we fall for good, we keep adapting and finding the parts of ourselves that are still healthy and can carry us forward and in the forest, fungi help bring nutrients that can heal us from the blights we experience. This year, we have not been able to live as we have always done, and many lives have sadly been lost, but those who are willing to bend in new ways to help each other remain standing are playing such an important role. When we reflect on the lessons of this year, the global interconnectedness of the planet and how our actions impact lives around us, what is truly important-things or the people we have been kept apart from–our collective experiences could very well provide a road map forward to a more just and healthier society in which ethical behavior is once again a goal.