A legacy

The property I live on is unique in that it is like living in the midst of a forested park with a wandering 20-foot wide creek on the southern and eastern sides, yet it's in the middle of a small town. The land on the east is a flood plain that in the back--on the south--rises abruptly to form two small hills bisected by a flat notch. (The "hills" are actually remnants of an old mill that used to operate around these parts in the 1800's.) From the house we can look through the notch to see the creek and the tip of land we also own on the opposite bank.

When we first arrived it was impossible to walk behind the hills because the property was so overgrown with brush and because it had been used as a dumping ground for felled and rotting trees. I cleared a trail and found there was a patch of flat land behind the hills that had been overrun by canary grass, which I mostly got rid of using both black plastic and by laying all the felled and rotting logs down in a single layer over the ground next to the creek. Last year I converted that reclaimed area into a garden in an attempt to grow squash and melons, but it didn't work out quite as planned when powdery mildew took out the whole crop.

Except for that gardening experiment, I have tried to let the land alone so it could become itself again and revert back to a more wild state. I know now that, given how intrusively humans have developed the land over the years, that little that was native was left. The land had been taken over not just by canary grass, but buckthorn, creeping charlie, scrawny honeysuckle, and miscellaneous burred or throny plants. The forest was there--the boxelder, basswood, and cottonwood--but the trees weren't all that desireable.

This winter, though, my mind has been on fire with new and wonderful possibilities of what could be. Why not plant trees that will feed me in my old age and give me a product to barter with when the economy stops teetering and actually slips off the face of the cliff? That question led me to researching nut trees, then cranberry bushes and wild garlic and ginseng and all kinds of food plants that could grow in my forest and feed me eventually and perpetually with minimal work. Permaculture intrigued me, but the idea of the edible forest absolutely inspired and energized me to levels I haven't felt in a long, long time.

What excites me is that the idea of the edible forest is a legacy, my legacy. I can give this gift to the future, to people I don't even know, and they will be better off for it. And in the meantime, for as long as I'm here, I can benefit from it, too.