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Green Crow Tree Farm
August, 2014

A needed detour coming home from work.

This tree farm off of Camp Hayden Rd has always interested me- a very oddly-managed area, mostly cleared except for this silver fir, carefully picked around like gristle on a chicken wing. Every old growth cedar stump has been charred, which now looking at the day’s photos dredges up hackneyed associations with other commercial genocides by fledgeling empires. At least they used buffalo skulls for fertilizer. Even the roadsign seems an afterthought, too small for pride and too tall for shame as they lag on 4×4 risers to extend the height of the sign over the thimble berry and  roadside saplings.

Of course these appraisals are stupid and lazy, and were the furthest thing from my mind as I spent the late afternoon meandering through the Salt Creek basin, up and down sandy slide-plagued bluffs, narrow speed trails, and the road now overgrown with clover and thistle, some stretches so carefully matted with arrangements of twigs and branches it’s like Andy Goldsworthy’s sketch pad.

The overwhelming sensation on outings like this is the satisfaction in not missing any of it, no matter how small. It is nourishing, and it all adds up. This growing connection with the local fleshes out daydreams and idle glances, and gives a nice bottom-heavy heft to optimism and even the most casual indulgences.  Lately I’ve been carrying my camera gear everywhere. Work, trips to the dump or hardware store, impromptu afternoon walks with the dogs.  I even took it up on the roof after I stripped off the shingles, thinking the height might add some post-modern formality to the local view.  But with all this saturation coverage, there is the risk of obligation over creativity. Bluntly, like I’m some demented marsupial with an entirely delusional devotion to it’s pouch of inanimate wooden gear. Some sort of trustee whose identity isn’t nearly as important as the entrusted inventory. Whose observances are wholly dependent on their own misappraisal. Amused, I have to wonder- if a tree fell in the forest and crushed me, would it make a sound?