The Landscape and Our Homes are Not Permanent

Downed Trees at the Base of Burney Mountain

Over three months ago, Helene hit Western North Carolina, her winds whipping trees into a frenzy and causing limbs to litter the ground even when their torsos were able to remain standing. This is the base of the mountain at the end of my street. I used to hike the trails here several times a week before the storm. Though it is possible to step through and around these limbs, a few hundred yards further up the trail massive trunks block further movement. This devastation was the result of 19.9 inches of rain on nearby Bearwallow Mountain and wind speeds of 40 to 90 miles per hour. Now Los Angeles is experiencing unfathomable fires from overly parched, not damp, conditions and similarly high wind speeds. These weather-related catastrophes are becoming increasingly terrifying. Later, I’m sure there will be investigations as to what happened and how California can be better prepared for the next fire event. For now all the brave firefighters who are putting their lives at risk deserve our gratitude and appreciation. Rather than focusing solely on blaming someone for allowing these fires to burn out of control, it behooves us to look at why these events are occurring in the first place and why they are becoming exponentially worse. The aftermath of Helene in Western North Carolina is being called a 1 in 1,000 year event (104 verified deaths have been tied to the storm in Western North Carolina) and the situation in Los Angeles has been described as apocalyptic and certainly appears that way from the images I’ve seen. The fires are still raging as I write. Steps must be taken to stem the climate crisis or future generations will pay an even higher price than we are paying now.

Snapped Crowns

In many places near my home, crowns of trees snapped and giant sections crashed to the ground or onto people’s homes. Last week, my husband and I went to a Sierra Club Meeting to learn more about the devastation to the trees in our area. The room at the University of North Carolina, where the meeting was held, was packed and there were another 75+ people on line. We were told that we are all experiencing some form of PTSD from the destruction. Allison Ormsby, an environmental science professor and forest specialist with Adventure Scientists, asked if we were all afraid of trees now. Some nodded their heads, but she said that we have to plant more trees nevertheless. Without trees, the temperatures will rise even more and we will lose an important carbon sink. Our air quality will suffer too. Yet as Dr. Steve Norman of the Forest Service pointed out, all these dead limbs will provide fuel for fires if there is another drought this summer like there was in 2016. That drought led to more than 30 forest fires that burned over 70,000 acres of land. Though there were no fatalities from the fires in North Carolina, 14 people lost their lives in Tennessee. Although many of our trees did survive the floods this year, we won’t know whether the ones that remain are healthy or ill until spring. We were told that the trees on the ground break down the fastest, while piles of limbs take longer to decompose and ignite more easily. After seeing what is happening in Southern California, I am even more aware that fires can easily burn out of control–especially when there is a lot of dead biomass that is easily ignitable.

Damage on Cane Creek Veiled by the Snow

This photograph was made from our new bridge looking up Cane Creek. Six months ago, this creek was flanked by many more trees that created a natural arch along the length of the stream. During the storm, many trees were lost and all the vegetation closer to the bridge was uprooted and a new channel was formed. The vegetation that didn’t get washed away was adorned with plastic and other debris from nearby farms. Although the snow whitewashed the devastation, for those who still remain without homes the bitter cold temperatures were not welcomed.

Cane Creek with Fallen Trees and Limbs

This image was made looking in the opposite direction. A 500 gallon propane tank took out our bridge and then the bridge and all the downed trees created a dam that has since been removed by FEMA. A lot of tree debris still litters the banks. At some point, the county plans to remediate the creek again. They had just completed a big project before the storm hit, which was fortunate because if they hadn’t the damage would have been even worse.

Downed Limbs Making the Shape of Roots

When I came across this tree on another trail in the area, I was struck by how the downed limbs seem to have fallen in a way that mimicked roots. This seemed appropriate symbolically, since organic matter provides new energy for life when it is broken down and returned to the soil. Except for along the rivers where trucks, crates, cars, and parts of homes were swept into the water, a large part of the destruction in this area was in the form of trees and that is much easier for nature to absorb back into the cycle of life.

Destruction Near and Far

Trees often fall in the woods and typically they are left on the ground in the wild, to provide nutrients to the biosphere and habitat for creatures. However, when smaller trees die and dry out, they provide fuel for fires. Forest management is a balancing act between letting nature follow its course and ensuring that there isn’t too much fuel in the understory. Tree trunks of sufficient girth don’t catch fire very easily and they have more nutrients. Their hollows also make great homes for many creatures. But smaller trees, thinner limbs, and dried out dead leaves ignite rapidly and can result in the landscape being stripped bare, as is happening in California. These quickly spreading fires destroy ecosystems, including homes for creatures and humans who reside nearby.

Blanketed in Snow–Solitude on the Rhododendron Trail

Despite the wreckage I witnessed on both trails, the sections where rhododendrons grow are more protected and look much like they did before the storm. The solitude and quiet was a welcome reprieve to the bombardment of news about environmental disasters and political upheaval. I am grateful that there are still a few places where I can walk that don’t show evidence of Helene. So many places are still inaccessible, and others are unrecognizable. My heart goes out to all the people in Los Angeles who will be facing an alien landscape that bears little resemblance to their memories of home. We have been experiencing this in Western North Carolina, though the destruction in California is on a much larger scale and is in a heavily populated area.

Everything is Not Dormant in Winter

This was the first snow I’ve seen in Buncombe County in three years. I am relieved that we finally got snow instead of incessant rain. Snow melts at a much slower rate and seeps into the ground instead of running off, so it is better than rain for plant life and causes less erosion. It felt so life affirming to see the tops of the plants, some native and some invasive) peeking out from the snow. And it was a reminder that life will regenerate. After floods and fires, bacteria, fungi, and viruses are the first lifeforms to pop up, some beneficial and some harmful, followed by ferns and mosses. Eventually small shrubs appear and then trees. Native plants are best for local ecosystems, since many invasive species are uncontrollable and difficult to eradicate. However, some can play positive roles by providing food and shelter. As with most things in life, balance and containment are important.

Blackbirds Finding Shelter in Stella’s Creek

A lot of vegetation was swept in Stella’s Creek and trees and shrubs created a canopy over it, making the area a good hiding place for birds and other creatures. When we passed by, many blackbirds began flying out of the creek where they had a plentiful source of water. For the birds and animals, what I might consider to be messy post storm became a new and welcome shelter for them. This disorderly little patch of nature was beautiful in its own way.

Tangle of Limbs, Cane Creek After the Flood and Snow

The riparian banks are the most altered in North Carolina. Streams and creeks have widened considerably and there aren’t many areas that don’t have heaps of fallen trees and debris. It could take decades to clean up from this storm and we will have to keep a watchful eye on the weather this and summer and fall and act quickly if conditions become too dry. Sometimes, I still feel like crying when I am hiking or driving in the area, especially when I see man-made objects in our waterways since those are the most toxic. I also know they are items that have been lost along with homes and lives. Yet part of me recognises that I must accept that all lifeforms decay and eventually die and find ways to reframe my perspective, so that I appreciate the ways in which the dying are contributing to what will come next–just as I will too one day.

Decomposing Wasp Nest in Winter

As we headed back on the road leading to our house, I looked up and saw this old wasp nest suspended from a branch. The wind and precipitation had eroded it and much of the inside structure was visible, soon to be broken down even further. It reminded me that our homes are as temporary as we are, and that everything is susceptible to the law of impermanence. Perhaps because of this we strive to nest and make sturdier homes for ourselves filled with keepsakes, to pretend for a moment that we are safe. My heart goes out to all who have suffered from natural disasters this year and in the years to come. Even if our homes survive and we don’t lose all our belongings, when you survive such disasters you lose this illusory sense of security. Though we can still choose to rebuild in or move from flooded and scorched areas for now, more and more places are becoming prone to cataclysmic climate events. There already isn’t any place on this planet to go to escape the impact of climate change. In truth, all our homes are like this paper nest hanging from a thread, just as our planet is. as Carl Sagan observed, a fragile pale blue dot. Let’s try harder to find more sustainable ways of inhabiting the Earth, so that our home outlasts us for at least a few more generations and hopefully longer.