During the past two years, I’ve learned that being an editor of a quarterly magazine means having a whole new relationship with time. At any given moment, our editorial team may be editing content for the next issue, coordinating photography for an issue a year from now, following up on reader responses to past issues, or other time-hopping tasks. When this blurred sense of time becomes disconcerting, a walk among trees is very grounding, albeit timeless in its own way.
So I walk frequently. I’ve found countless woodland trails to follow close to my home in the Upper Connecticut River Valley and while traveling throughout the Northeast. Regardless of habitat, there are constants: stone walls, or evidence of walls that were removed and perhaps reused by later generations. Tree stumps sprout mosses and British soldier and pixie cup lichens, and serve as feeding platforms for chipmunks and squirrels. I see evidence of past human use of the land in the tree types and heights, and invasive plants that have found their way into the woods. Sometimes I come across streams that seem too straight, or have been dammed for one purpose or another. Glacial erratics – huge boulders from elsewhere deposited when glaciers retreated many, many thousands of years ago – make ideal perches for snacking or contemplation. When I am alone, I often wonder about the past human presences along the path or in the nearby woods. My ecology training tells me change here is constant, and adaptations to human change ever-present.
A constant throughout the magazine creation process is the exposure to diverse experiences and forms of professional expertise. When I interviewed logger Lee Russell, featured on the cover and on pages 8–9, I left our conversation appreciating his pride in his work and his passion for logging and the outdoors. He touched on the impact of a worker shortage in the forest industry and the need for good training; where are all the young loggers, machine operators, and truckers? We will return to this question in future issues and will explore programs that are seeking to address the employment gap. In the meantime, the photo essay on pages 48–53 highlights a forestry program that offers intensive hands-on learning: Paul Smith’s College silviculture class and Timber Harvesting Crew, where the students manage the entire process of planning and executing a timber harvest, and then distributing that wood, including donating some of it to the local community. These rising professionals bring enthusiasm grounded in hands-on experience in the woods.
Also in this issue, David Goodman’s story about the Catamount Trail on page 32 shows how communities can be built and strengthened through a connection to forest-based recreation. This network of ski trails running the length of Vermont began as a dream four decades ago. Today, the Catamount Trail Association comprises several regional cross-country and backcountry ski organizations and continues its work to introduce skiing and outdoor exploration in Vermont to people of varied backgrounds, including young people new to the state.
The community-based partnerships mentioned in Madeline Bodin’s article on floodplain forest restoration on page 40 provide pragmatic ways for people to help restore natural systems, learning from the past while providing models for future restoration efforts. Forested floodplains help to regulate water flows in streams and rivers and to replenish groundwater. This benefit is especially important as extreme rain events and storms occur more often, and as society seeks to reduce the impact on homes, roads, bridges, and other infrastructure. The most hopeful part of this story? The students from Bethel Elementary School, getting their hands in the dirt, helping to plant new trees – their future forests – and learning why this volunteer action matters for them and the place where they live.
These intergenerational exchanges – timeless in a sense as we learn from the past to prepare our woods and waterways for the future – are critical to shaping resilient communities.