The other day I took a couple of friends to visit my research site at Flat Rock Nature Preserve just outside Murfreesboro. Jake is a good friend of long standing, Meadow is a young girl nearly half Jake and mine’s age. Though the day was warm the threat of clouds taking over the sun promised the temperature could easily drop ten degrees with the slightest shift of the wind. It being February, Jake and I recognized this and wore light jackets while Meadow, living full on in the youthful moment of sunshine, walked around in a thin shirt and the shortest of cut off denim shorts. Her outfit was pleasing but not terribly practical.
The trail was extremely muddy and water-logged in places. Meadow’s Converse sneakers didn’t grip well. At times Jake had to carry her on his back and I had to heave her across a streamlet surrounded by thorns. My dog, who lives to run, ran all about us, kicking up mud onto Meadows bare legs.
After a twenty-five minute hike we arrived at my research site in the farthest cedar glade on the property. In case you were wondering, a cedar glade is a specialized habitat occurring in the Central Basin of middle Tennessee with a few outlying glades in Kentucky and Alabama. Glades are ecologically significant for the rare plants that grow there, many of them being federally listed as threatened or endangered. Many plants grow only in cedar glades, with the rarest occurring in only one or two specific glades. These plants have evolved to outcompete less specialized plants, benefitting from the harsh conditions which range from being saturated as was the case on our visit to hot, xeric conditions in summer and fall.
Crossing a wet weather creek, we left the trail and walked a hundred yards to the spring where one of my transects is set up. Just behind the oozy mud where my first nail is set into the earth is a flat rock facing the afternoon sun where I often sit and think. A couple of weeks ago some other friends and I sat there late in the afternoon and built a fire. Now, apparently our fire had been discovered by the Tennessee Department of Environment and Conservation because Jake pointed a new sign nailed to a cedar tree just behind the rock. It stated the rules of the property, among which was “No fires”. I was surprised that anyone would come out and patrol such a remote part of the property, especially off the trail. We speculated that the site must be patrolled by aircraft and acknowledged that black coals on the light grey limestone would stand out, even from hundreds of feet in the air.
We shared a bottle of wine and listened to Meadow talk about her life and how much she enjoys getting drunk. I suppose a 21-year-old isn’t doing anything too out of the ordinary by getting drunk every night but I can’t help but feel a need to watch out for her. Even at twenty-one there are other things to do…hell maybe even something productive. But that said, at least she doesn’t sit around playing video games all day and night getting pimply and fat. I can hardly imagine a more useless activity than playing video games. At least drinking creates social interaction, broadens horizons, and just maybe causes someone to think about things they wouldn’t think about otherwise.
Eventually the aforementioned winds did shift. Just as I was ready to put on my jacket Meadow took it and spread it across her legs.
We sat till dusk as the earth cooled and the clouds rolled in. That night and all the next day it would rain. Maybe it would wash away the remnants of my illicit fire.
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