This may be the last weekend with temperatures consistently above zero. When I got up, it was about 2.4. The woodlot was drenched, but we took the dogs back to the campsite. Here is another pet tree: the only white pine south of the Five Thousand, apart from that poor waif by Panama. It grew up with balsam fir packed tightly around it, so there are no low boughs at all. We gave it some room a few years back.
This gives a fair impression of the lot today: a dull sky above whose light fails to penetrate to the forest floor, and dark, wet trees below.
We bravely decided to cut away some clumps of uprooted trees to let the ground settle again. Lots of wedge-work: the saw got pinched in a cut twice. One was an enormous old trembling aspen, the largest diameter tree I have cut yet, I think.
This gives a fair impression of the lot today: a dull sky above whose light fails to penetrate to the forest floor, and dark, wet trees below.
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