Today I chose to walk to the back of the land, having finally procured a reflective vest, as rural VT loves its guns just as much as its cows. I was astonished at how overgrown and unkempt the path had become. In many places, I needed to scramble under or over brittle and broken fallen trees, and under my boots was a steady crunch of dried twigs and branches. Except when I got to the patches of dense viney groundcover, where I waded nearly up to my ankles in greenery, my boots hidden beneath the undergrowth.

The path that I remember traveling so often is almost unrecognizable. The forest comes closer every year, encroaching on my small patch of cleared land. The lush and vibrant green is pushing all else out, the trees obstruct any kind of vista further than 50 feet- it seems my world is ever shrinking until finally one day, like Thorn Rosa, I will find myself completely trapped within my castle, held hostage by unruly and riotous vines.