Page 8 of Entangled in the Woods
Professor Robinson pushed out his chair and packed up his bag. “Oh, Elise, I have a letter for you. It came late this morning.” He handed me the yellow envelope withElise Wilsonin large letters, and I immediately recognized my mother’s handwriting. “Sorry about the sat phone. It broke last semester, and the university has been slow release the funds to replace it. Once I can get it ordered, I’ll bring out the replacement.”
All three of us looked at each other in surprise. We hadn’t even checked the satellite phone since we’d arrived, let alonerealized it wasn’t working. My mother was probably in a tizzy, unable to call the cabin and check on me.
“That was shorter than I thought it would be,” Leo said. He looked at Jenny and me as we stood up to see the professor out the door. Robinson moved slowly across the cabin as if he was trying to remember if he had forgotten to tell us anything important.
He turned around to address us again. “I can’t come out here any more than I need to. Do your work and act right, and you won’t be seeing much of me.”
Professor Robinson walked toward the door as we said our goodbyes. Leo opened the door and closed it behind the professor, exhaling loudly. Feeling the information overload, we all decided to go our separate ways to read through the materials he’d left with us.
Sitting on my bed, I opened the yellow envelope from my mom. She’d said she would write to me, but I hadn’t thought it would be so soon. I looked at the postdate—two days ago, in Illinois. I shook my head as I unfolded it.
Elise,
I hope you’re settling into your new life. I wanted this letter to get to you on your first days at the cabin so you would know we’re thinking of you and miss you already! We are so proud of you! I’m sure your father and I are settling in nicely into our new home. I hope you’re doing the same.
Don’t worry about us at all! Focus on your studies! I’ll write soon!
Love, Mom
I rolledmy eyes as I finished reading and tucked the letter back into the envelope. My mother still caused me to roll my eyes, even from two hours away. How had she snuck the letter into a mailbox? Probably while I’d been on one of her imposed timed bathroom breaks at a truck stop. I was sure Professor Robinson would have a stack of letters by the next time he visited.
With the letter read, that left the folder of paperwork he’d left for us to review. But I wasn’t in the mood to look over papers.
My backpack laid on the floor against my desk, empty from the unpacking I’d done earlier. Now seemed like a good time to start looking into what plants grew here. There was a list somewhere in the information I’d brought with me that detailed a list of rare plants found specifically in this region, but again, I was avoiding the growing paperwork piles on my desk. There were a few I had committed to memory. It would be enough to get started.
I pulled out a fresh field journal from my desk, bringing my nose to the new pages. The smell of possibilities. I tucked the map Robinson had provided between the pages and dropped it into my backpack along with a few glass sample containers, a pair of clippers, and two pencils. I couldn’t find my water bottle—likely still packed away somewhere—but since I didn’t plan to be gone for too long and I was itching to get out, I figured I would be okay to do without it for one day. With the backpack slung over one of my shoulders, I made my way through the cabin to the front door, passing Jenny’s and Leo’s rooms on the way out. Their doors were closed—they’d probably felt the same motivation to get going on their research as I did.
I purposely chose a different trail than the one I’d run down earlier, hoping not to run into any other locals today. The scent of pine filled my nose, the resin flowing fast this time of year. I let my fingers graze along the pokey pines of a nearby evergreen, admiring the new bud of needles forming along its tip.
This part of the country was so different from what I was used to. Back east, the woods were more manicured, still slowly recovering from the extensive lumbering and agriculture of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Up north here, the forest had been less affected, left to grow wild and unruly—nature in its most natural form.
It didn’t take long to find a plant that caught my eye, jogging my memory back to the list of the plants I was in search of.Achillea alpina,also known as Siberian yarrow, grew just off the trail to the right. Its white flowers and leaves surrounded by sharp teeth gave it away.
Coming off the path, and careful to not disturb the other foliage, I lowered myself to my knees and dug through my backpack for my journal and clippers. After observing the plant, I found the best spot to take a sample. It had to be small enough that it wouldn’t hurt the plant in the long term yet big enough that it could be an adequate model to display pressed flat in my journal.
I unlatched the safety from my clippers and took a clean snip of the plant. “Steady,” I said under my breath.
Picking up the sample, I admired the clusters of flowers on the stem. The leaves were hairy, with sharp teeth along the edge. It would look good pressed between the pages of my journal. I had never seen one in person before. It was like a textbook had become three-dimensional right before my eyes.
With the clipping safely put away in one of the sample containers, I got to work writing notes about where I had found the plant and what was growing around it. All these details wereimportant, especially with rare species. It was helpful to know what the plant grew well around. Future conservationists could read my research and apply it to their own work, particularly in places where the plant was struggling to survive.
Finishing my notes, I zipped up my pack, ready to continue. The sun had crossed the sky and was on its descent into the horizon. There were probably four hours left of light. Enough time for a mile more of scavenging.
It was hard for me to keep my eyes on the ground where the plants I was looking for grew. Birds talked to one another high in the trees, flying from nest to branch and back again, protecting their newly born young. The canopy of trees overhead let light filter down through their leaves, creating shadows and flashes of light as the branches shifted in the breeze. It was enchanting, being caught in the kaleidoscope of light.
I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath of fresh air through my nose, letting it sit in my nose before blowing it out of my mouth. My happy place. Where I felt most myself, most in my element, with only the trees and the breeze.
Without my sight, I could feel the forest hum beneath my feet. I liked to pretend that it was humming to me, like a song, giving me the same energy lyrics and melody gave their listeners. This forest hummed in a different key than the forest back east. The sound ran flat, low in pitch, less spirited.
My eyes opened slowly, looking at the path ahead. Two tiny eastern hemlock seedlings grew from the ground, the sun shining down through the canopy, cooking the plant and its tender needles.
“Poor things.” They didn’t stand a chance out in the open with no protection. The light green needles were soft as I stroked the branches, careful not to break any of them off. I glanced around the surrounding forest for a log, a large one, that would shade the seedlings.
Decomposition was natural in a forest, and it only took a moment for me to find the right size of log. It had been the trunk of a large tree, probably fifty or more years old before it had fallen because of wind or illness. Now I would give it another life, one that would be just as important as its previous one. I used my body weight to roll the log toward the hemlocks, placing it in the right spot to give shade to the seedlings during the hottest part of the day. The log would become a nurse log to the seedlings, giving them not only shade but preventing the sun from absorbing too much moisture from the soil they grew in. As the log continued to decompose, it would provide nutrients to the soil and ultimately to the new hemlocks themselves. A fitting ending to a tree’s life—helping another tree live.
I brushed my hands together, removing the bark and dirt from them. Two miles away from the cabin, it was time to turn back. With the yarrow in my backpack, I considered my first day successful. The sun was scorching. Beads of sweat along my forehead made me regret not taking the time to dig out my water bottle. Thirst motivated me to hike back to the cabin quickly, and I swore to myself I would find it before going out next.
I was the last to arrive back at the cabin. Leo sat on the couch in jeans and flannel button-up even though it was way too hot for that. Jenny popped out of her room when she heard the door open, sporting a form-fitting pink track suit, part of her athleisure collection. Everyone had finished up with research for the day, and judging from how damp and fatigued my roommates were looking as well, they were just as thirsty as I was.
