New Trails to Explore
by Donna Iona Drozda
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine:
under every grip and pine runs a joy with silken twine.
It is right it should be so;
We are made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know, through the world we safely go.
William Blake
During the holiday in December 2009, my partner, BD, our house guest, Sara, and I took a spontaneous one-tank road trip. Following the directions listed online for fifty acres of land for sale, we drove from our sea-level Virginia Beach home three and a half hours to Piedmont. Gently rolling hills opened out onto Appomattox Court House National Historical Park where we could feel the solemn quality of the landscape while catching an occasional glimpse of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Twenty minutes later we reach our destination, turn onto a short stretch of State Route pavement which ends 1500 feet in as we proceed onto a hard-pack red clay timbering road. We are off the beaten path. Snow cover softens the visual impact. We cautiously make our way stepping over high mounds of thick mud, carefully taking giant steps over deep ruts filled with oil-slicked water. I consider the Japanese proverb that instructs, ‘When walking, pay attention to your feet.’ Do not twist an ankle in the branch litter. Be careful not to slip in the red mud. Leap over the deep trenches left by machinery.
We take our first look at what would soon become BBG: Blue Bird Gulch, our tree farm retreat. Several creeks meander through the center of the land. Large stately mixed hardwoods line the creek, a reprieve for the eye.
A 650-acre loblolly pine plantation creates a boundary to the east. The north border contains 250-acres of mixed hardwoods.
I say a silent Thank you to the Environmental Protection Agency for having regulations in place that spare the oldest trees along the sliver of creek waters skipping over stones sourcing themselves in spring-fed beginnings.
Up until this day I had been unaware that the Piedmont of Central Virginia is rugged geology suitable to be farmed. Beef and trees are primary crops as are wheat and soybeans.
The Virginia Piedmont is largely characterized by rolling hills and numerous ridges near the boundary with the Blue Ridge Mountains. Lying between the mountain and coastal plain regions, the piedmont region is a naturally diverse landscape.[2] The bedrock consists mostly of gneiss, schist, and granite rocks at a typical depth of between 2 and 10 feet. Soils developed from these rocks and minerals form acid, infertile soils, with sandy loam surfaces. Many of the clayey subsoils are red or yellowish-red due to the oxidized iron weathered from the primary minerals. Natural fertility is low; however, these soils respond well to liming and fertilization. Historically, much of the Piedmont region was cleared and farmed intensively, causing extreme erosion over much of the region. Before modern soil fertility and managerial practices were adapted to these soils, agricultural production diminished and most farms reverted to forests. Over two thirds of this region is wooded today
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piedmont_region_of_Virginia.
Drive any road in this part of the state and witness the large flatbed logging trucks passing by stacked high with harvested trees.
After timbering, which leaves the roots and stumps, what remains on the pock-marked land are deep ruts carved into the earth banked by large, twisted piles of waste-wood interspersed with shallow puddles and stumps either flush or up to waist high, depending upon the suitability of the wood.
After timbering, the earth receives the sunshine and rainfalls to soak the dormant grass seeds, very quickly the land begins to restore itself in earnest. We would be ‘in the lab’ for the next decade watching the way in which nature fills a void. The invasive species rush in and honeysuckle vine, wild grape, rose, blackberry, and poison ivy take the stage. The cut trees begin to coppice in earnest and everywhere there is a tangled impenetrable mass of unobstructed growth reaching for the sky.
Our Back Story
I first heard BD lament the destruction of open space and forest land in the name of “development” when we took a walk along an Emerald Necklace park trail in 1982. I too had a dream of living with a deeper connection to the land. As a young girl, I found my place in the world while exploring John Muir woods, a slice of the creek and suburban forest behind my elementary school named after the pioneering naturalist. As an aspiring artist, I dedicated myself to the art of homesteading as much as I did the language of art and the understanding of value and color theory. I began the practice, continued to this day, of composting my kitchen and yard waste, I baked bread, made yogurt, and raised Rhode Island Reds, as well as caring for a large organic garden. I purchased two 6-acre parcels of land in Maine using the proceeds of the first large sale of my paintings. One piece of land, a deep-water coastal, rock-strewn wooded lot on Frenchman’s Bay was just twenty minutes by skiff from Acadia National Park.
It felt natural for me to be inspired by BD’s dream to one day, “buy that empty corner lot or purchase that bulldozed construction site and allow the land a return to its natural state”. I championed her forward-looking vision of repurposing empty big-box stores as prime locations for community hydroponic gardens. As my parents soon pointed out, “You two are made for each other.”
That December road trip in 2009 was activated by BD mourning the sale of her family farm. Following the death of both parents, the beautifully renovated brick 1800’s farmhouse in Michigan ‘thumb’ near Lake Huron (where her dad and his nine sisters had been born) where BD and her siblings grew up, mom had filled the house with beautiful antiques, and collectibles. Now, the contents had been auctioned, along with the house, old large beamed barn, the woodlot thinned by Amish horse and skids, and the land that had held dairy cows before being transitioned to soybean fields.
Recognizing her sadness BD’s sister suggested that, rather than lament the loss she could seek out a farm of her own. This spark of inspiration led to our day trip to central Virginia.
Then there was the daunting challenge: this 50-acres was deeply scarred. We knew nothing about what lay ahead. We could see though, as we and our house guest, Sara, trudged the deep ruts and slush-filled depressions, that the ‘bones of the land’ were good. There was water. We could plant more trees. We could follow the dream.
BD made a bid for the purchase of the ravaged land. Two months later, after negotiations were complete, on Feb.19, 2010, BD signed the papers and registered the land as a tree farm with the U.S. Farm Bureau. In the first month, BD had a work crew come in and plant 7000 boot-high loblolly pines seedlings on a corner of the land.
Our 50-acre tree farm retreat teaches us more than we could have imagined. We have become familiar with the cycles and rhythms of insects and animals, the carpenter bees abound in April and May, the deer flies descend in June along with the firefly magic, the bear visits the now barren bird feeding station in August bringing her cubs through in hopes of finding sunflower seeds for a snack.
In our first year, BD constructed 12 blue birdhouses which we positioned around the property welcoming the many bluebird pair that moved in and raised their young. Within a year or two the black snakes had also learned to visit the nests eating the babies like we eat snack food. We wrapped the posts with the barbed wire that crisscrossed the landmarking former pastures.
About five years into the experiment the land was well on its way to becoming a coppiced young forest. Our wildlife camera, activated by motion, showed us that not only were there deer making their way, establishing paths that I in turn widen for hiking but there was a bobcat, fox, bear, wild turkey. Upland game birds flushed as we walked the land.
The Unfolding Story
2021 marks the eleven-year anniversary of our tree farm/retreat adventure. Like the young forest growing up around us, we have grown in our dedication to protect and respect this 50-acre ‘room without a roof’.
Less than a year after purchase in 2011 BD had a ¼ mile road put in and a 20-foot-long shipping container was delivered as the ‘storage unit’ allowing us to move our camping gear to a protected, rodent-proof secure location.
In 2012 after fully connecting with the land through our frequent overnight and long weekend tent camping stays, BD contracted with a local carpenter and our 16x24’ cabin replaced the tent.
BD built an additional porch, giving us both an east and a west-facing covered outdoor area for cloud watching from the hammock.
BD then constructed a free-standing 8 x8‘out-building for Nature’s Head composting toilet and the indoor/outdoor sun shower.
We remain off-grid, nestled back in a wild and secluded zone where our laboratory continues to burgeon and grow. We have a propane refrigerator and fireplace, we use solar lights and recharge our cell phones, and my laptop with a deep cell marine battery.
In 2014 I had a small-works studio built. This workspace/guest house is where I sit and write our story today.
