Change and the Woods
by Jack Walsh
(originally published in October 1999 newsletter)
Though born in Charlestown in the late forties, Jack has always felt most at home amongst the trees and the wild creatures of the forest. While attending school in the Catskills in the 60's, he learned that some of the most important things in his life were the sounds and the fragrances of the woods. It was there also that he first became aware of the wealth of life that inhabits these woods, and the serenity to be found there.
Jack says, "Though I reside in Newbury, the thirteen years I spent in Nahant, as well as the many years I have worked in and around the city, make me look upon the Lynn area as home. I view the Lynn Woods as a treasure to be fostered and protected at any cost. It's the prominent, treasured jewel on the aged hand of Lynn."
On a recent stroll through the Lynn Woods, I came upon an area that had suffered rather badly from that master of transformation, fire. Oaks that had been well on their way to becoming giant forest sentinels appeared now as ruins somehow out of place amongst the green exuberance of their younger, verdant, more vibrant neighbors, and they were coated in a gray and black armor of charcoal that protected their now lifeless forms from further ravishment by molds, fungi, and insects. Of course, even this seemingly impervious cloak will eventually succumb to the inexorable process of time; the black charcoal vestments are but a temporary impediment to eventual decay and transformation. This sight led me to ruminate upon the concept and reality of change, and how it has affected Lynn and 'The Woods.'
Often while walking down one of the many trails, my imagination will rear up and supplant for a time any realistic thought. I'll fancy, for instance, seeing those two great naturalists, Henry David Thoreau and Cyrus Tracy, approaching me on the trail, still in the distance. They'll be animatedly engaged in discussion, each with earnest countenance and penetrating eyes, that universal garb of passionate commitment and genius. Indeed, it is only the passage of time that makes this vision one of imaginative fancy; they were here in these woods in the early 1850's and both have left evidence of what they thought and found in their fascinating journals.
The use of the imagination with woods as a background is particularly fortuitous; the forest lends itself well to envisioning the past. Beyond these woods, the City of Lynn has seen great change; technology's invention of the automobile along with a varying and burgeoning population have seen to that. But it is perhaps the internal combustion engine that is responsible for the greatest change in our cities. Thoreau and Tracy, I'm confident, would both cringe at the serious problems of noise and pollution resulting from its ubiquitous use, while, like the rest of us, nonetheless finding themselves captivated by its power and convenience. The forest, however, used judiciously, resists this type of change well.
What accounts for this discrepancy regarding change between the woods and the city? Why is change so immediately evident in the city? And why does the great power of time, along with its offspring change, there mark itself so thunderously, while etching its message so subtly and delicately in the forest?
Imagine Tracy and Thoreau strolling along a path in the woods here in 1999. They would, captured by film, be dressed differently than in their own time, but that would be the only notable change. They would still be under an arbor of trees and vegetation which, to the casual observer, would be the same. Now, imagine these men walking down Market Street in 1999. Only their expressive countenances would remain the same; the surface needs of the truck and automobile, as well as the many differences in architectural materials and design, would have 'change' easily dominating the picture.
It is true, of course, that change has also occurred within the woods. The demise of the mighty chestnut along with the introduction of aggressive alien plant species are evidence of this. Nevertheless, though of great importance ecologically, this type of change doesn't affect the tone and flavor of a setting in an obtrusive manner. Nature, great artist that she is, substitutes species so well that our comparison snapshot would be striking in its similarity to the 19th century rather than in its difference from it.
It is this nature of the forest, this seeming ability to transcend time, which bestows upon the woodland scene that universal power to calm and sooth the mind. Lovers and friends of the woods treasure this soothing quality of the forest, and they realize it is this apparent power over the more destructive nature of change that is the source of this phenomenon. It is only when man encroaches upon the woods, when moneyed interests dominate over spiritual, that the destructive aspect of change manifests itself in the forest. Only when vested interests, like those of unbridled bicycle usage or the imprudent development of forest buffer zones, gain control and usurp the original intent of the woods, does change begin to destroy the placid, soothing quality of the woodland scene. Only then does change in the woods become the destruction of the woods.