We’ve been stomping around the fields and forests of Roundrock for more than a decade, but even after all of that time, I’m still not sure that I’ve set foot on every one of the 83 acres. There are possibly parts of it that I just haven’t wandered into. That’s something I want to work on for the next ten years and beyond.
Ahead lay discoveries. I’m sure there are types of trees growing in my woods that I never knew I had. Others that I’ll finally learn the names of. Critters prowling the place that I’ve never seen. Flowers that will be first-time discoveries for me. And microscopic life: I want to turn the lens of a microscope on a drop of water from the lake to see what new wilderness there is to explore. There isn’t much evidence of human use of this land, but maybe I’ll come across the foundation stones of an old cabin. I’d love to find a cave, even if it’s just a small one.
I’m not an expert on plants or wildlife or geology or local history or chainsaws or photography or rural living. But I don’t claim to be. The only thing I can consider myself an authority on is myself and my adventure through life. And I think there is plenty of adventure ahead.
Maybe I’ll finally find an arrowhead. Or another ancient horseshoe. Or an Ozark Howler. And plenty of really fine round rocks. Who knows what strange and mysterious surprises await in the meteor impact structure where Roundrock sits. For me, there is no other place like Roundrock in all the world.
Someday we’ll raise a house out there and move in full time. We’ll get the dam fixed and settled, the road improved, the lake properly stocked. We’ll work on timber stand improvement, culling some trees so others can thrive. We’ll continue to introduce critter-friendly plants throughout the forest and then see how they do. We’ll get to see the pecans bear nuts and we’ll get to walk in the dark under the towering pine trees. We’ll be stewards of the land; maybe we can make a difference in our little patch.
And I’ll spend my quiet moments sipping iced tea (unsweetened, of course), sitting in my comfy chair on the shady porch overlooking the sparkling lake in my little bit of forest on the edge of the Missouri Ozarks.
Update 6-DEC-2011: I don’t know if this will make a difference, but I’m “updating” this post in an attempt to recapture the blog from some of the takeover sites that sometimes pop up when I go to my own address. I suppose some current posts would make the difference, but all of my posts are in the past lately.
- Stinging nettle is tall enough to sting; jewelweed is big enough to relieve the burn.
I wish all of you well.