In the May and June of Life.

Tuesday; Day 1. 

In the belly of spring. There is nowhere else where I am so intimate with the emergence of creation's new growth as I am planting trees in the May and June of life. I look forward to the evolutionary tadpole puddles, and the deep green spotted frog with the killer breaststroke - shooting down the furrows deeps with rain water; the blue speckled eggs and the pelicans soaring across the dusk-lit sky. 

When I was in the bike shop last, Grant said that seeing him angry would be like getting punched by a teddy bear. I saw a bear today, and I thought of Grant, who compared himself to such an affable creature of passivity. Big, lumbering, fluffy black bear, jumping and rolling down the hill to the woods. 

One lone pelican tonight. Perhaps he'll bring his friends back with him tomorrow.

Wednesday; Day 2.

How is the heart able to physically ache in pain, when nothing physical has touched it? The sickening, soul-gripping ache of a nauseous heart. Knowing that I’ll be planting trees again tomorrow makes me want to throw up in my mouth. My body aches, my piece is a mess, and my partner is far away in Southern Ontario: leaving me solo, lonely, and ever-so-miserable. 3025 trees in the ground.

I went swimming when we got back today: the dirt, dust, and pesticides had seeped through all my clothes and I stripped them off before jumping into our northern lake that was covered in ice only a week ago. I shivered through supper, played speed scrabble, and smoked a pipe around the camp fire. The pelicans came tonight – just as the sky was a perfect blue and the watery reflection vivid – a flock of graceful pelicans flew in to circle round to land in our lake. My favourite time of the day.

Thursday; Day 3.

My hands are cracked, scratched and sting; I cover them with vaseline for overnight restoration. I almost pity them, knowing full well that this is only the beginning.

Today was surprisingly amazing. It was slow going this morning, and then I invited a rookie in who had finished her piece. I would stop and explain my land management, and preferred the company over hitting higher numbers. One of the crew bosses then came into my piece (the section of ‘the block’ that they had sectioned off for me to plant) with trees and started partner-planting with me and… I remember why I liked planting trees. It was thrilling! To give chase and to be chased - to bounce off each other, communicate and manage land like we had been partners for ages. I miss that so much. The planting partner relationship is an interesting thing. He had taken pity on me and the loss of my partner, and I appreciated it with all of my heart. We finished off my piece in twenty minutes, leaving my poor rookie spinning in circles. 

The companionship was a barter – he would plant trees for me if I filled rookie holes with him. Done. I’m pretty sure I got the better end of the deal on that one… especially as the rookies seemed to like leaving big ‘ol creamy holes at the backs of their pieces.

The poplar buds are ready to burst, and green sprouts are appearing on the ground. We saw a black bear again today, as well as a deer, a (rather unhealthy looking) moose, and lots of dust-bathing rabbits on our way to and from the block this morning. 3025 again (with my sweet crew-boss’ help).

Friday; Day 4.

There comes a time in every spring contract, where the sheet comes out, the sleeping bag goes under for padding, and I’m warm enough with only my (rather luxurious) duvet at night. Usually it’s later on, but the mosquitos were out on Monday, the ticks yesterday, and I saw a few deer flies today. Summer comes sometimes too close on the heels of spring.

Today in my piece (which is almost half the size of the entire block we’re on right now… yay being a vet), I was composing planting-inspired haikus:

Up the nose and in the eyes

Salty sweat-stinging scratches on fire

My personal war against a field of brambles

I had so many  raspberry bushes in my piece today; my back hurts from bending down so low to creep through the overgrown poplars, but then the brambles scrape along your all exposed skin, and I still feel thorns in my hands as a I write this. It feels like poisonous prickles when sweat runs into the cuts and my skin is on fire.

A mere breeze

On a hot day

The ecstasy of relief.

Today I saw rabbits, a garter snake, the hugest bald eagle I’ve ever seen (large nest atop a towering white pine in the middle of my piece), and a black bear. 2400 trees today (not bad for starting at 10:30 and climbing through brambles all day).

Saturday; Day 5.

For all my misery, it went fast. One week into my fourth year at Haveman Brothers. I'm too exhausted to say much else. I felt like I was inside a cellphone commercial today; all the radios on the block had died and we were all yelling at each other over a few kilometers of hilly forest and clear cut. The problem with yelling conversations, are that they're usually only one way with the wind factor... it's interesting to attempt communication in the wild north with 40 or so people spread over a few kilometers and no radios - what would Hamilton be like if we were all yelling at each other at the top of our lungs over the concrete jungle of downtown? or the quaint streets of St. Stephen? 

I let my shovel hang in my grasp and my jaw drop a few times this morning as the mama eagle in my piece soared back and forth over her land. If she had ever decided that I wasn't worth keeping alive, I would have been flattened in seconds. Awesome and humbling. I've never been so envious before, far below yet hearing her wings beating clear and powerful in my ears. My evening was spent sipping red wine and tea in front of a hot campfire, listening to folk guitar and surrounded by friends.