March

Word of the Month – Trail: A simple path worn by people or animals passing repeatedly through remote or rugged terrain. The word trail comes into use around 1800s; the earlier word, still used in the southern United States, is trace. In American English, trail has taken on an iconic status, suggesting a journey into wilderness or unknown territory. But not into the entirely unknown, of course, for the trail itself is a guide, embodying collective knowledge about the best way through a region. In recent decades the new occupation of trailbuilder has arisen, reflecting a contemporary American desire to spend more time in remote and wild places. Each summer now in the West thousands of young people make their living “digging trail” deep into the wilderness.

– Emily Hiestand “Home Ground”

I am now intimately familiar with shovels.

The month began with mulch.

So. Much. Mulch.

I had to borrow my friend’s truck two different times just to get all the mulch I needed for the flower beds, the garden, and the apple trees. Move the mulch out of the truck, move the mulch to the wheelbarrow, move the mulch to the ground. There was a lot of shoveling mulch.

Excitingly, I had enough left over to put underneath my three favorite wild apple trees. May they grow strong and healthy this year.

The land is slow to show signs of spring. It’s wilder and higher than the surrounding area. Blooms come late and every single one is treasured. Like these volunteer crocuses growing in the grasslands.

Did you know you can chase the guys in the orange trucks that shred trees down the street and ask them to give you the wood chips? I didn’t either – until my mom did it.

Now we have a truly giant pile of wood mulch ready to be made into paths in my garden. Last season the garden was intentional plants growing amongst unintentional plants. But after a year of dedication and pandemic boredom, things are looking almost organized.