Sunday was a quiet day at the Rock. No drilling, no trucks barreling down the Triple A, just a guard vehicle parked behind the fence at the old driveway. They seem to know when we’re coming now, and send someone to meet us—how polite! Not so friendly, though, is the new berm pushed up across the drive, and the snow fencing with the large No Trespassing signs.
We took that as a hint that we were no longer welcome to water or otherwise tend our little gardens along the fence, and peering over the berm, we could see our roped-off vegetable patch was no longer there. The posts were lying on the remnants of the woodpile, with our twine wrapped around them and the tiny scarecrow placed on top. Obviously, someone had been told to get rid of the garden, and yet we sensed it had been done with some care.
The petunias and coreopsis were missing from the center of the fence, most likely taken out when the berm was pushed up. Straw was scattered thickly around the perimeter. We looked for survivors, and we’re happy to report that the potatoes are doing well. Lee Sprague might still get something in exchange for his $1.00 farm share, and hey, the peas we planted recently are still growing on both sides of the gate. A fall harvest might yet be necessary.
After a picnic on a small rise, we planted potted perennials on each side of the drive and put in some brightly colored impatiens. We also tucked wildflower seeds in on the west side, and Cynthia installed two mullein stalks as sentinels.
As always, one of the best things about being out there is the people who stop to visit or to ask questions. Three friendly ladies got out of their car to see our flowers, and promised to return with water and more plants. A pick-up truck carrying husband and wife and four dogs, two tiny face-lickers and one blueberry gobbler included, paused on the road to see what we were doing. Most who come by are sympathetic and respectful. A few are not, but that’s okay, we wave to them as well.
Eagle Rock is in a cage. Going there is something like visiting a friend in jail, but we must remain faithful. Right now, there are blueberries to be picked and celebrated, and the river still runs free and clear. And our friend, the spirit of this place, is very much alive.