Skip to main content

May 13, 2026 Peaceful Late Afternoon

 I've planted more than a hundred thousand trees since 1974, the earliest ones by hand with help by a friend from Iowa. Some lived, some died. The fact that my help couldn't avoid hitting a rock with his planting bar, no matter what direction he turned, or how much he swore, may have had something to do with it. "C'mon really, Jeff?"

A portion of 1974 White Spruce plantation planted by hand along Mikinaak Creek.

   Since then, many more have reproduced a thousand fold. It's good to see them in their multitudes; one over-topping another through their depth and width.

   

    The tallest prevail. These White Spruce and Hybrid Cottonwood, planted in 1981, in half-mile long rows on the west side of Mikinaak Creek, were the first trees ever planted using tractor and tree planter, echoing the contours of the farm lane and existing woodlots near the farmstead, that in turn echoed the contours of Mikinaak Creek set in motion my unconventional use of contoured row tree plantings. 

   A forester once said on a walk-thru of the 'recreated forest,' "These rows aren't what we'd prefer (in relation to timber harvest)... but I really like its affect across the land." That, and the re-planting in 1992, to affect those planted in 1990 thought to have suffered overwhelming loss because of drought. This resulted in perpendicular rows in some areas and islands of trees different from one another, typical of a natural forest environment. It is quite pretty, never tiring to the eye.

   This quarter of land, and all the land forever around it, was the homeland of multiple indigenous peoples before the arrival of Euro-Americans. It was said in books and stories that these wild places across 'Mni Sota,'were 'Gardens of Eden,' where innumerable waterfowl, and woodland birds darkened the skies and herds of woodland bison, elk, moose, deer, and caribou roamed the land and water; and humans not resembling us, moved freely about, following the seasons and its inhabitants.

   A condensed outline of this area's geographical history, (but not all conclusive of Palmville, per se.) include the Seasonal Rounds of Native peoples; First contact by foreign explorers and their accompanying religious zealots; Establishment of trade economies between traders and Native peoples; Treaties for trade: fur; timber, minerals, and land acquisition; Removal of Native peoples to reservations through allotment of Indigenous lands (Except the Red Lake Nation); Reduction of Native land holdings (some by swindle); The Homestead Act; Immigrant settlement; timber cut down, acres fenced for crops and livestock; Township created: schoolhouse built on one corner in 1904, cemetery in opposite corner in 1900; Weather related disasters, wildfires, human borne disease. Economic failures; taxed land is sold to pay debt; People leave for employment in big cities; Land is purchased for speculation; cleared of timber; Sold, put into soil bank; (similarly C.R.P. originates in 1950s); This quarter came out of soil bank in late sixties; sold in 1971; Cropland rented est. 17 years; Entered into CRP in 1988 and since; various contracts; Tree plantations and grass.  

   As I've mentioned in previous posts, finding a flintlock pistol barrel in what was then an open field before trees being planted there, rivets your knowledge and acceptance that there were others here before you and yours -- long, long before.  

  

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Memorial to Jerry Solom August 24, 1945 -- July 23, 2019 No. 2

               Jerry Solom, August 24, 1945 -- July 23, 2019 This is a random image memorial post about my late friend, who died a year ago. I wrote a memoir/tribute to him in the Wannaskan Almanac on July 23, 2020. Here's the link to that: http://wannaskanalmanac.blogspot.com/2020/07/thursday-july-23-2020.html Me and Jerry with Marion in background in Stonington, Maine in 2015 prior to setting sail to Hull, MA. This is an excerpt from the story  "A Louisiana Ruse" by Steven G. Reynolds Published in 2000 in THE RAVEN: Northwest Minnesota's Original Art, History & Humor Journal      This describes the end of a 43-hour bus ride we took from Fargo, North Dakota to Slidell, Louisiana, where Jerry's boat was in dock prior to his voyage to Norway in 2000. I was there as part of the maintenance crew, accompanying Jerry, his son Terry Solom of Minneapolis, and their fr...

April 5, 2025 Sven is Dead

     "OH MY GOD! SVEN IS DEAD!" the new neighbor Jack Krag said, running from his car to the swing set in Sven's yard where Sven Guyson laid prone on the ground, one foot still afloat in the seat of the swing, his face against the sod, his cap ajar.      "SVEN! SVEN!" Krag repeated plaintively, gently turning Sven over onto his back; the imprint of grass and dirt stuck to Sven's open-eye slobbery face.      " HE'S JUST A'FOOLIN' YOU, bon ami! " shouted Monique, Sven's wife of two years and some months from the porch. "He's just workin' up to his expiration date and wants his death to be just a part of our normal routine. He doesn't want to surprise anyone by dyin' unexpectedly. You know what a shock a death can be. He's just tryin' to ease us all into it, one act at a time.       "WHAT??" Krag fairly hollered in disbelief, looking at Monique, then back st Sven, and back to Monique...

Adventures in Parenting 1990-1993

    Two True Stories 1990-1993 " We didn’t make her fearful, we made her brave."     Bag O' Bonny           Turning in at Bemis Hill, in Roseau County, Minnesota, I snapped a few images of the nicely maintained CCC-era log cabin and its immediate sledding hill. Leaving, I turned west on the road I came in on, then a half mile or so, took the Bemis Hill Forest Road north along the bottom of the Hill when my daughter Bonny called from Ankeny, Iowa, where she lived then, several hundreds of miles away.     I always thought how amazing it was to be in the middle of nowhere and get a phone call. I was  leaning against my car along a remote northwest Minnesota forest road in Beltrami Island State Forest with the steep legendary sledding hill behind me and a 700,000 acre forest around me, possibly making me its sole human occupant for five square miles, conservatively speaking, the thought of which is just aw...