I was so excited to get to spend some time sitting alone in the forest. In such a fast paced J term world, I appreciated the quiet serenity. I sat down between two large rocks on a bare spot of log so I wouldn’t get too cold or wet and I sat in silence for a while. The two rocks were covered in both moss and lichen, and one of them was marbled with orange streaks. I took this to mean that the two rocks were made of different mineral compositions, adding to the diversity of the soil.
Soil nutrients also come from a fallen log between the rocks. (The log, like many others in the forest, fell to the Southwest, suggesting a strong, cyclonic storm, possibly a winter northeaster or a summer/fall hurricane.) The log was covered in orange fungus and had decomposed a considerable amount, so it must have fallen a few years ago.
The tree community around the two rocks was predominantly Eastern Hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) like most of the lower section of the forest, but at our altitude at that time, more deciduous trees were spaced in between these pines. For example, I spied a yellow birch and a hickory (although I’m still unsure whether it was a shagbark (Carya ovata) or a bitternut (Carya cordiformis). Where there wasn’t snow, the ground was covered with a considerable layer of leaf litter. By the rocks as well was a small cliff, and the tree cover diminished significantly as the slope got steeper.
We weren’t far at all from the waterfall we had passed earlier in our hike, but I couldn’t hear the water. What I could hear was the road. This type of noise pollution is incredible, that the sizable waterfall, closer than the road, wasn’t louder. This is just another example of how human influence has encroached on and penetrated so much of the United State’s wilderness.