Golf balls and our personal stairway to heaven

June, 2005
Someone's staircase found in the woods. That a tree would offer a perfect incline to allow one to just walk up it is so darn nice you just have to laugh. Stairway to where? To a place one wouldn't be able to access under normal circumstances, I believe and precisely because of this, worthy of the work somebody put into it. Why haven't I tried climbing it yet, I wonder?








I adore lilacs and want not a single branch of them but so many that the house positively stinks of their fecund aroma. Just take a moment to imagine the smell of burying your face in such a large bouquet, drinking deeply of a rich, dryish, almost lavendar odor filling the nostrils. Breath deeply as the time of their bloom is so short.










Me, in our front forest walk. The previous owners, at one time, considered tree farming. They planted trees too tightly together, thinking they would be harvested before they matured, but then decided against this endeavour. The result is good for us as that was long enough ago that at the front of our property is a now a grove of mature trees large enough to give one the sense of forest without the effort of walking to the back of the property. They also protect us somewhat from the road and its traffic.

The problem though is that some of the trees are choked by their close neighbours. We would need to consider culling them to help them. But the thought of cutting down trees when we wanted more was not something we could quite get our heads around. It was in this mini-forest that I found golf balls and the rhubarb plants we made into rhubarb and strawberry jam.