Boulder Ridge
When the duff is showing, the duff gets going.
So far, January disappointed with a lack of cold days and snowfall. On the 8th the mercury rocketed to the 60s and the wind speed into the 40s. The snowpack officially packed up. An eight inch average of snow across the landscape disappeared underground and down the roadside gullies in 24 hours. What one day was winter white, withered to wet duff. So, I stood up off my duff and hit the woods.
I discovered the latest deer herd highway curving up a hill that winds its way off the property and I spied an opportunity. What nature's daily migration provided, I decided to widen. A deep V of deer tracks showed the path of least resistance. On the first day, I trimmed the small branches out of the way with an orange handled pair of clippers. Then I pulled as many downed limbs out of the dwindling snow as I could to clear the forest floor. At the top of the knoll there appeared a perfect divergence that would allow for an up an over trail and an apex of the ridge escape back down to the open meadow.
The next day the fully brown landscape shaped to the growl of my chainsaw. Small maples, ironwoods and beech trees zipped off at the ground and I sculpted a wider ski trail. A metric ton rock tinged with moss rode the rib of the ridge, reminded of Michigan's glacial past. I christened the route, Boulder Ridge.
To the west a straight shot flowed south parallel to the property line. There I finished and named the second descent, Deer Downs. It cheered me up knowing that when the snow returned I could once again taste the forest fruit of my labor and glide.
