The land along both sides of Old Station Road has gone wild and free, largely untouched since the new Bayfront Connector was finished ten years ago. The connector took all the traffic from I-90 and made the upper mile of Station, which was once one of the busiest stretches of road in Harborcreek Township, into a desolate and isolated back road.
The college, or maybe the state or the township, I don’t know, bought out most of the homeowners along Old Station, and knocked down the houses, effectively — and no doubt, temporarily — giving the land back to nature.
I find the whole area fascinating. (And liberating, but we’ll get to that later.)
I frequently wonder about a post apocalyptic world and just how long it would take nature to reclaim it’s space. What would our world look like if not cleared of vegetation and trees for acres of fields/pastures and giant swaths of concrete and pavement? How long would it take before any traces of humans and the scars they’ve left on this earth would be gone? 20 years? 50 years? 150 years? 1,000 years?
I got a glimpse yesterday while walking along Old Station Road during my lunch hour on a beautiful September day.
I was struck by the wildness nestled between the old road and new. The 12-foot expanse of forgotten green space is overgrown with weeds and goldenrod, bushes and trees and vegetation growing wild and unfettered. No lawn mowers. No weed wackers. No landscapers. No weed-killing chemicals.
Plants/vines are growing up, around and over a speed limit sign. A tree trunk rots nearby. I know if I got close enough to the tree, if I could get through the high weeds to lay my hands on it, it would be full of insects chewing it up and breaking it down, returning that once-majestic tree into forest litter again. Bees, butterflies, and chipmunks float, fly, and skitter by.
But for the wind and the cicada, it’s remarkably silent — most of the songbirds having already flown south. An occasional car from the student housing development at the top of the hill passes by.
As a single woman, I know maybe it’s not wise to walk on a desolate, isolated road alone with earbuds in (listening to a book) and my head in the clouds.
But I don’t care.
I think it’s more dangerous to stay in our sterile, manufactured, climate-controlled, safe habitats and cars and never walk among the trees, appreciate the exquisite beauty of “weeds,” and find the sense of peace, calmness and serenity than can only be found in the wild places around us.
About Just Write “What ends up revealing itself when free writing is that everything has meaning. That is a magnificent gift of writing. If we write from a free heart-gut place, our souls start speaking.”