A timeless trail

Sunshine and a welcome thaw sent us hiking up the hill behind our house, but instead of stopping at the fence line, we stepped across onto our neighbor's property. We know our neighbors won't mind the incursion, but we rarely cross that line because the steep wooded hillside is slippery in the spring, overgrown with brambles in the summer, and crawling with hunters in the fall.

Today, though, we tromped on up through the snow toward the curved tree that appears to mark the peak of the hill, but on arrival we found more hill rising beyond and a wide but neglected path winding through the trees along the ridge. A sign of ancient settlement, a hunter's path, or the right-of-way cleared for the gasline that runs through here somewhere? Whatever its source, we welcome the invitation to keep tromping through the snow.

A few green mossy spots push through the melting snow but aside from that, nothing seems alive or active up here. Hopeful dashes off after some tempting scent and then barks frantically up a tree, which fails, as usual, to persuade the squirrel to come down and play. We step over fresh deer tracks but can't keep silent enough to sneak up on them--but there they are, a big buck in front and three other deer following, all leaping deeper into the woods and out of sight. We walk the ridge until a dense tangle of fallen limbs blocks the path, turning us back toward home.

We slip and slide down the last steep drop to the fence line, grabbing onto trees to steady our descent. With a little work, we could create a path from our property up to the ridge, maybe clear out some underbrush and set some logs across the path to serve as steps, and then we'd have access to that trail year-round. Will our neighbors approve? Will it be worth the effort? Or will we other projects drive the memory of that ridgeline trail right out of our memory?

This may have been our first time walking the ridge trail, but I hope it won't be the last.