Spruce Grove

 

Little green tips shivered slightly in the breeze that could now reach them. Towering grass surrounded the clearing, the nearer thin stalks now bent and forced aside by their surveying work. She noted again the strange scarcity of new shoots among the stalks. Usually one could pick out at least a few of the younger light green ones, but in this spot all that she could see were darker and mature, or beginning to turn and die. The grasses, like any other plant community, had a natural cycle of growth and death. The fields were constantly replenishing themselves, with older stalks browning and giving way to new growth in a process that maintained the healthy crop. The dense forest of grass relied on this cycle for equilibrium, and those who lived here at the sanctuary relied on it in turn. This was one way in which Kaya liked how her studies interfaced with her practical work. Being out here in the fields was what she truly loved, but her time in the botany and ecology classrooms had only deepened the experience.

She sat back in her makeshift seat, testing its weight. The stalks of grass, when cut and bent into place, made excellent building material, but she hadn't had time to put much care or effort into this makeshift chair. Around in the clearing the other members of the work party were also having a break, drinking and chatting, or admiring the small spruce tree. This trampling and cutting of the grass had been necessary in order to clear out around the spruce. It had taken some work to find as well, since the development map for this area had been long misplaced. Even with its distinctive coloring and needles, a small spruce was surprisingly difficult to locate in varied uncut field-grass.

It had quite a bit of growth to it already, though it was still young and dwarfed by the plants around it. To Kaya it seemed a symbol of the future; it had the potential for a grandeur she might never see. The grass lived in its constant cycle, birthing and dying in mass milieu out in these fields. It was a joyful surrender of life, sustaining the ones who extended that cycle. Trees, and even humans lived the same way, just on grander scales. If there was a rhythm to all those cycles, it was obscured. The almost apparent lack of pattern at times felt like a purposeful veil over the meaning of life. Kaya gazed off to the side, where only the wild field lay in its earthy chaos, and considered that idea.

–

Before they left the clearing, they marked the tree's location for future trips. Four of the six small spruce trees had survived thus far, and were being monitored for their continued care. Even though the trees were over thirty feet by now, and becoming sturdy, they were still vulnerable to animal abuse and choking out by the thick grasses. It had initially been difficult to see the slightly different green amongst the rest, but now cleared around as it was, the spruce stood out nicely. It had a striking energy among the grass and flowers of the field, bringing a rich darkness to the spot where it grew. Each spruce had a slightly different quality as well, and Kaya was excited for the potential of the fledgling grove.

As much as she anticipated the future though, she had lately developed a mild concern. Kaya had studied botany and natural cycles in depth during her school-intensive years, in preparation for a life serving the needs of the local land. In all her time, she had come to know the fields and groves well, understanding their web of processes and subtle natures. Lately though, those processes almost seemed like they were changing. New growth in the field seemed to be slowing down all over the place; lately the telltale lighter shades of green were often absent from the palette. She had noted it in the latest report to the head offices, but there had been no indication they thought it was an issue. Kaya had tried to reassure herself that if Davai didn't think it was a problem, she shouldn't be too worried, but the reasoning didn't fully work.

The group trundled back towards the circle village on their wooden work-cart. It had little in the way of seats, but the bed had walls that worked fine for leaning against, and when it was empty like this there was no shortage of space. Kaya chatted with her crew, catching up about their own experiences in the field lately. They shared their own hopes for the spruce plantings, agreeing how nice the sanctuary would eventually be with the addition of the new groves. None of them had noticed much change in the plant-life though, and only agreed on how lovely the wildflowers had been the past few moons. Kaya liked her crew, they were hard-working and good-natured folk who mostly lived out here in Dome Valley. They valued the wild fields and the tranquility of the Sanctuary. Today they were dressed in the usual working clothes, a mixture of durable but breathable fabrics dirtied by the efforts. As they pulled into town, a cool breeze caught the group and Kaya noticed one of the men pull down the rolled-up sleeves of his over-shirt. She looked again at the grass back on the roadsides. Deep green stalks growing through and among the brown and dying elders. If only they could tell me, she thought. The pattern may be obscured for me, but they see the meaning clearly. They live the meaning, and know nothing else.