In which Fiddle takes me out for a trot, and we see what we can see
On an overcast day in the Swampland you can't exactly see for miles and miles.
The Swampland is a murky place, and it's not just the mud. Sometimes the rainclouds fly so low here that the top of Mount Ebey at elevation 1600 feet isn't visible from the pasture at Haiku Farm, a mere 3/4 mile away and 1250 feet lower. Yesterday was like that, but since the rain was lightweight (by comparison to recent heavy cold and "bloppy" rain), I decided that Fiddle and I should see how much further we could get on the road up the side of our neighborhood mountain.
The last time we went up this direction, I found a gated logging road branching off from the main road. I still haven't explored that yet. Instead, I wanted to see how far that "main road" went. The old USGS maps and satellite photos show it spiraling up to the peak above our house.
Here's something the satellite photos (which were taken summer 2008, as near as Jim and I can tell) didn't show:
I cannot figure out who the heck would want to drive 30 minutes from town, up the side of a gravelled logging road so that they could live in a housing development. The lots are about an acre each, very swampy, not fit for any agricultural pursuits....
except, of course, for the plant life that was ripped down to build this little bit 'o strangeness:
The truffula-tree cutter operator didn't see Fiddle and me as we followed a little trail around the edge of this clearcut. Because, you know, together we stand only about 8 feet off the ground, and wear bright purple clothing and tack, and were thus nearly invisible?
Oblivious, I tell ya. And not just oblivious to watchers in the woods.
The trees being cut down are cedars, which grow in very wet soil. Does anybody bother to think ahead to next winter? The wet soil held in place by cedar trees will be anchored by a house with a 3-car garage.
Which is to say: not anchored at all.
Yep. It may take a year or two, but sooner or later the whole thing is going to start slithering downhill. Stay tuned: someday this is going to be really, really interesting.
As we headed downhill from Oblivious Acres, the sky was starting to lighten up in the west--not exactly sunshine, but a bit less rain.