Now begins the great uncovering. With the coming of the present burst of mild air the hard snow is creeping away, revealing new ways our landscape is changed. One thing I’ve regretted since we moved to Singing Meadow, is the scarcity of the white pines that were one of the glories of Foley Mountain. On the ridges ringing what was once the old farm here, the great ridgepole pines do grow. But here, until we planted the few we could, they were scarce.
Yesterday, when I walked to the end of the road, savoring the new south wind at my back, I was amazed to see a cluster of seedling pines which I never noticed last year. Then, on the way back home, I made a game of counting more baby pines, clinging to the roadside, and found a pleasing 26 of them.
Unwilling to go in, I cut across the front of our land, for the pure pleasure of feeling open ground beneath my feet. As I went, I was checking the butternuts, chestnuts, locusts and other trees we have planted along a gentle slope. To my surprise, I found several new little pines which I know we did not plant. These had traveled a long way to come to us, and now will become part of the growing and changing it is my pleasure to watch.