![]() We are walking down a wide path through what feels like a cane brake, very bright green but not quite tropical. No aging boomer bucket list travel for me–I’m good right here. I’m counting on the accumulation of peat and mystery within my lifetime. I’m investing in eating cattail pollen, horsetail shoots, tiger nuts, black walnut, feral fruit and acorn, in spending my dwindling days making willow baskets. Who needs a retirement investment account anyway when such a rare little wetland needs protection from further harm? I’m banking on the Spinney Fens, the spots where Tree People grow so densely that a three quarter acre bit of land in town remains impenetrable. Blackberries gathered from the sidewalk overhang were the extent of my exploration for the following fifty some years until I saw the Zillow ad for that same corner at a very low price when we were buying my studio. ![]() Fen: a peat-accumulating wetland fed by mineral-rich ground or surface water.įirst spied by me as a child walking to the library along the gravel road by what is now Sisson Meadow (known to my family as Strawberry Shortcut.) The opposite corner of Alma and Spruce presented a wall of green so dense I assumed no human had ever ventured there, and I was comfortable leaving it that way on my part. Not having anyone to teach us the native name for this woodland, my husband came up with a name from our peoples’ ancestral lands (the British Isles) to honor this spot that has been building black mud and green life for eons from Mount Shasta snowmelt–Spinney Fen. ![]()
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