MAHAR'S WOODS............A MAGICAL PLACE

Now, to be clear, this is not a photo of Mahar's Woods, but it could be a wood road almost anywhere on P.E.I.

Fall is starting to make an appearance, after a gruelling summer and evidence of a serious drought. On an island known to be a million acre farm......

But somehow, pumpkins are pumkining, apple orchards are orcharding, and potato fields are potatoing, you get the message. Would you live anywhere else?

Well, not me, and as I mentioned to someone at cards the other night, the very best part of the year is now upon us. I am not a summer person, I can barely tolerate it.

But fall? One whiff of that sweet freshly cut hay field or the smell of the towels off the line on a cool breezy ocean day? And what about that sweet orange color of a thousand ripe pumpkins rolling around in their fields? Heaven!

In my memory, the very best time to walk through the woods was fall. Our family was introduced early, as Momma would march us up to Church by cutting through Mahar's Woods, which is a less than five minute walk from our lane.

And in later years as my own family grew, on weekends or holiday Mondays Jamie and I took our kids for a long walk through the New Harmony Demonstration Woodlot. It was a stunning and informative trek, we all learned so much, and got a full afternoon of fresh air and exercise.

I can remember our first trip through New Harmony like it was yesterday, but it sure wasn't. It was Thanksgiving weekend, we had finished up our turkey dinner, and we had Jaime Lee's childhood friend Beckie with us. B.J. was the baby, Chance hadn't come along yet, so we're talking about 1987 or so. We piled everybody in the old Crown Vic, packed the rickety little umbroller in the trunk, and set out for this new path people were talking about. No phones, no GPS, no distractions.

It wasn't that easy to find, as we went past my Uncle Art's farm, Alfie Ade's place and kept on going.

And going. The Glen Road itself was worth the drive, and still is. The overhead tunnel of trees as you drive through is classic. And a photographer's dream.

Boy, it was worth it.

The trail was professionally built by the Province and everything was clearly marked. Each trail, each stand of trees that was different from the stand before, right down to the Christmas Tree stand! And it just smelled like Christmas, how could it not! There were Beech trees, Ash trees, many different species of Maple trees, Birch trees, and lots more.

There were samples of bark nailed to a split rail with identification throughout, and a comment box if we had any ideas to leave. It was wonderful. But poor little B.J., in the awful fold up stroller that everybody had, but no one liked, he was bumped and lifted over roots, and I think at the end of it, Jamie just carried him. The older kids enjoyed running ahead, and hiding in piles of leaves, waiting to ambush us.

When the shadows were starting to get long, we finished our loop, drove back to the house and were quite ready for some more dessert. Walt Disney was just coming on, as it did every Sunday, and guess what the show was, I still remember it............Mr. Boogedy!!!! After all, Hallowe'en was just around the corner!

And to this day, we are proud to say that they all enjoy a good outing, whether to the shore for the elusive sea glass, clam digging, or walking in a local woodlot.

But these wood roads, heritage roads, and trails are disappearing and changing at an alarming rate. Although we returned many times, even one trip with Jamie's parents and sister Wanda, the New Harmony trail didn't make it past Hurricane Fiona, it was just annihilated, as were many other public trails. I was devastated when we went to have a look after Fiona frigged off. We couldn't even find the opening to that familiar clearing where we would take off for our walk, almost hoping to get a "little" lost. So very sad. All those mature and beautiful trees uprooted and killed by a force no one could see. Even now, it triggers PTSD, the feeling is so strong.

Mahar's Woods, being so close, and right in the middle between the school and my house, was a natural highway for us kids. My friend Mary lived right at the top of the hill where the woods road came out, and many times we would meet somewhere in the middle. All the way to my place for swimming, or all the way to her place for playing house or getting treats at Eddie's. How safe we were, and how generous of the Mahar family that they didn't put the run to us; it was their property after all.

But they never did, and how clearly I remember the afternoon that B.J. and Chance and I took off up the road on our bikes, with a plan to come home through the woods.

It was a beautiful twisty turny path, undoubtedly used for hauling out logs for fuel. We never saw anyone, but it was pretty obvious, since the path was well worn.

Well, I'll tell ya, we got home a lot faster than planned, we fairly flew! It was down hill all the way! The path was well trod, but there were any number of bumpy roots exposed, crossing the path, and with years of layers of dead leaves and vegetation, a skid wasn't out of the question..........but that risk just added to the fun! We went air born more than once!

I wonder if they remember it?

Most of the Rollo Bay School kids will remember many a fall field trip with Mr. MacAdam, collecting samples of leaves of all sorts, to catalogue and identify later on in one of his much anticipated science projects.

And I have to come clean and admit to having found a single, lone apple tree, deep in the forest, with no other around. I took as many apples as I could carry, there weren't many and I turned them into the most delicious pie. It just made one, and the kids and Jamie and I all agreed, that we never tasted an Apple Pie that good, before or since. I don't know what variety they might have been, but they were special. Or was it our adventure that made it special?

My sister-in-law Lynn was a great forager, and she had this idea that not all the toad stools and mushrooms that flourished in Mahar's Woods were poisonous. She knew what a chanterelle was, and who would buy them.

Our girls walked up on many a trip gathering baskets of these edible mushrooms, and I'm sure they remember it still. There was one particular area with pounds of these bright orange mushrooms!

Mahar's Woods also was a perfect place to gather tons of plants, mosses and lichens for the annual "Plant Project" every spring, again for Mr. MacAdam. We all learned so much.

To us, the woods seemed immense, filled with birds and other creatures rummaging around in the leafy green undergrowth. There had to be raccoons and skunks and snakes, but we never saw any.

But was it big, or were we just little? I don't know how many acres there are, but it stretched from the main highway straight down to the Lower Road, a couple hundred yards from my place. A big rectangle of property, completely wooded.

It must have been a true Acadian forest, as there were many different types of trees, all tall and healthy. The leafy trees mixed well with the tall pines, allowing that peculiar dappling of squints of sunlight, trying to penetrate to the ground. The smell was familiar and intoxicating. It can bring you right back to a day in your childhood.

And one of those days, Jaime Lee and Krystal, as little girls decided to introduce a summer cottager and friend to this special place. She was from New York and we'd know her family for years, and the Woods were directly opposite her cottage, so away went the trio. There was a well marked lane, where Randy MacIntyre is now, then down the gully, to the opening in the trees where the truly special trail took off.

Patsy talked about it for years, how my girls showed her how to find British Soldier, Pixie Cups, Reindeer lichen, Club Moss, and many other species that you just walked over, not realizing that each species is important to the forest. Bushes, shrubs, berries, everything fascinated Patsy. She was filled with wonder and gratitude to the girls. They spent the most wonderful afternoon in each other's company, and Patsy was enthralled at the magic of it all. It was soon getting too dark to see anything, so they headed back down the path that came out in Johnny Pete's field, and headed back to the cottage.

But all good things must come to an end. Even Mahar's Woods. I can't remember exactly what year it was, but the writing was on the wall. Maybe twenty years ago now?

The Mahar family must have sold the soft wood lumber off the lot. From our house we could hear the machinery and trucks rumbling up the woods, the high pitched keen of big saws as they went to work. The worst of all was the creaking and groaning of trees as they were cut and falling, branches twisting and cracking against other tree trunks, it was almost human. It didn't take long.

Within days, we could see right through the woods from our road, all the softwood trees were gone, just a few stands of hardwood remained.

Well, I wasn't satisfied until I could see the damage, and find the path to walk through again.

How foolish, it looked like a war zone. You could see straight through the remaining trees and open fields, all the way to my uncle Joe Carpenter's. Stumps everywhere. A million branches just tossed and left, obviously too small for the lumber market. The prickly brambles of wild raspberries and fire weed were clearly exposed, just waiting to sting you. The wind could now breathe through the forest to ruffle the leaves on the few remaining trees, creating an unfamiliar sound. Mournful. The path was gone forever, and it was no longer safe to walk through, you were up to your waist in carnage. I could hardly believe it. I was devastated.

I never went back.

And I'm well aware of the need for families to sell their product to a ready market, good for them. And when I needed to buy wood to build my house, I was happy that someone, somewhere sold theirs. It's a cycle.

After that, when Jamie and I went for our walk and passed by, we would comment on how empty it seemed, especially in the fall and early winter when the leaves all dropped off those few hardwoods, and the woods was even more lonesome looking. Like ghosts that you knew where there, but invisible somehow.

The wind was mourning. The snow turned everything to white. And within a couple of years, the forest naturally started to repopulate itself. Mother Nature is a wonderful thing.

Perhaps somewhere in the future another generation of Mahars will do something with the lot. Perhaps do some clearing and building. Maybe .......

Maybe another family will drive their bikes with gay abandon through a bumpy path down the hill onto the Lower Road.

Maybe another person will find that enchanted apple tree, and make a scrumptious pie.

Maybe some young lovers will find one of those big hardwood trees that survived the stumping, and carve their initials in its' bark.

Maybe.........