Paths and Walks
(Page 4 of 5)
July/August 1990
By Malcolm Wells
Here, they did use concrete, first building a sturdy wooden form and laying on it a raised grid of half-inch reinforcing bars. Using cement, sand and gravel, with as little water as possible, they created a mix that was stiff enough to stay within the form's edges, a mix that would eventually produce rock-hard concrete. As soon as the 28-day damp-curing period was over, the Brewsters piled rich soil from their compost pile into their cart and moved several loads of it to the little bridge.
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The bridge, of course, was not based on guesses. It was a carefully planned and engineered bit of textbook concrete work.
By the following spring it was almost impossible to tell that the hand of man—and woman—had been involved. The mosses and ground cover of the forest floor flowed right across the stream, and up to the base of the knoll crowned by the giant oak. It didn't take too long to see that any kind of footway on the ancient mound would be a sacrilege. They settled for a path around the knoll, with wide places here and there along the way from which to commune with the silent matriarch.
The walkways and paths seem so right, it's hard to believe they didn't occur naturally.
For benches, Kate and Arthur moved a few of the remaining chunks from the old concrete walk. All that remained of that arrowstraight sidewalk of yesteryear that had so blatantly divided the landscape were a few pieces five or six feet long, perfect for bench slabs. Gray and weathered now, they fit right into the forest. But how heavy they were! The Brewsters had to borrow a small trailer and manhandle the 600-pounders with bars and wedges to get them to their appointed spots. Easing them carefully onto the stone bases that awaited the slabs, Kate and Arthur were so taken by the look of the "floating" concrete that they turned to each other and said, "The dock!"
They knew that it is always wrong to clear shrubs and water plants away from the edge of a lake. Anyone, in fact, who takes the time to look and listen at the water's edge can see that wildlife abounds where the plants grow thickest. And anyone with a year of biology to his or her credit knows that the richest, and therefore most ecologically sensitive, part of a lake or pond is its shallow, sun-filled rim. With water lilies and dense growth for protection from predators, hatchlings have a chance to grow into fingerlings before venturing into deeper waters. Shorelines should be left intact.
The Brewsters decided to reach their little sailboat by leaving the water's edge virtually untouched. First, however, it had to be touched. They got a structural engineer to show them how to build a cantilevered dock—one that had no water legs at all.
The work goes on. The hillside continues to return to its original glory. In openings where trees are few, wildflowers and native shrubs grow in profusion. Where the walks and paths occur, they seem so right, so much a part of the forest fabric, it's hard to believe they didn't occur naturally.
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