Farmers’ Market:
‘We are not in Kansas anymore’
Until recently, what we knew of cyclones resulted from reruns of “The Wizard of Oz.”
Tornadoes, hurricane winds, and pressure clusters are strange and frightening incidents for County folk. We are much more accustomed to NOAA warnings related to blizzards, “weather events” we deal with calmly; they are familiar. Now we listen anxiously to broadcast warnings. We think about storm cellars and homegrown MRE’s in the absence of power.
A spate of summer storms has left us unsettled. The loss of familiar trees on our landscape is a constant reminder of the recent violence. Sprawled on the lawn are the shattered remains of the lovely silver maple, through whose leaves the breeze whispered sweet nothings in our ear as we lay in bed half-asleep. A deep, gaping hole and a towering rootball attest to a mighty struggle; this tree did not go quietly into that good night.
High winds toyed with saplings and older trees like a kitten with a ball of yarn. Where there was once dense shade and welcome coolness on a summer afternoon, the storms left a twisted, tortured maze of wreckage.
High on the ridge, stately black spruce are tragic, crippled, and stunted shells of their former selves, their high-reaching tops twisted right off many feet above the ground. Over-tall trunks are marked and scarred from the force of the decapitation.
Gone, too, from the skyline is the svelte and sinuous white pine that swayed to its own inner music, laughing and beckoning to all to join its dance. The trees that remain along the horizon lean in toward the gap left by the fallen like sorrowing mourners visiting a grave.
Do you remember when you were little, dealing with a very loose or missing tooth? Somehow, even though you understood that discomfort was likely, you couldn’t seem to keep from repeatedly exploring the new arrangement inside your mouth with your tongue or peering into the mirror at a new and unfamiliar grimace. So it is with these upheavals; however painful, we don’t seem to be able to avert our eyes. We grieve our losses and try to adjust to the new reality of our surroundings. It is as though we have lost dear friends or members of the family.
Yet we were tremendously lucky. Yes, there was damage and loss, but we are safe. No one was left homeless. No one was hurt or killed. Like with lost teeth, the gaps will be filled as sunlight pours into the newly formed openings in the forest and seedlings stretch for the sky. We will need to be patient, but the damage will heal.
We wish you all a safe, secure, and calm remainder of the summer.
Editor’s note: This weekly column is written by members of the Presque Isle Farmers’ Market. For more information or to join, contact their secretary/treasurer Steve Miller of Westmanland at 896-5860 or via e-mail at
beetree@xpressamerica.net. The group’s website is https://sites.google.com/site/presqueislefarmersmarket/
