When the last sheep disappeared from the pasture below stone ridge, the briars invaded. In just a generation, they suffocated almost everything of value. Here’s what was left:
Clearing the pasture has been like peeling a gigantic and stubborn onion. First come the scythes. Then clippers. Then the big guns.
As we drag off the thorny branches, uncovering years of broken bottles, pipes, tubes, old boots… we do a lot of grumbling. Wildlife appreciate the bramble fruit, but the feeble root system doesn’t even help prevent erosion. I want to weep each time we uncover a stunted oak.
But as we clear, dreams come true. I always wanted an orchard of walnut trees, and here on the battlefield, one is born. They rise out of the rubble, smooth trunks of white; lithe, graceful, irridescent.
What pleasure to set the invaders on fire.
Cheers for the liberated trees. We have other places where the brambles can protect animals. But not now, not here.
And spoils for the victor. Above the pasture a wild walnut has matured. We collect a brimming basket.
I get busy in the kitchen while the weary tend to the weapons.
Sweet Revenge.
3 thoughts on “Liberating the Walnut Trees (and a recipe for Walnut Pumpkin Pie)”
And a happy Thanksgiving to you all! Gotta say John looks like a happy man with that saw in his hands — or is it that his boiler suit brings out the blue in his eyes?!
Pure magic.
Walnut trees are beautiful!