Summer, Old and New, the Battle Rages On.

Weekend in the summer, the yard versus me. An ancient battle, the clash of the titans, one blade of grass at a time. An epic struggle, crab grass lies just beneath the surface, waiting to pounce, and devour the neighborhood, dandelions pop up, almost too quick to notice, forget watching grass grow, try turning around after mowing and seeing the yellow, smiling faces spring from the leafy base, and laugh at you.

But, this year there is something more ominous, something odd, almost eerie. A bare patch, about 8 feet long and three feet wide where nothing grows. Grass, dandelions, clover crawl right to the edge and stop. It taunts me, defying explanation, it is unnatural, unreal, and odd. If I sat up a game camera I’m convinced it would prove animals won’t walk over the ground. Domesticated cats and dogs that prowl the neighborhood, and the wildlife, from squirrels, skunks, raccoons, even deer that travel from the park on the north side to the streambed and small farms that lie just to the south all would give the narrow patch of dead ground a wide birth. But, I’m not sure what else it would capture. Do wildlife cameras record an evil malevolence that is slowly awakening?

The Past

Maybe this neighborhood was built on an ancient Indian mound. Maybe it was a battle site, or hunting ground, maybe it was a miscarriage of justice in the name of progress.

There were rumors that the Memorial Tournament in Northwestern Columbus was cursed because Muirfield Golf Course was built too near the tomb of Leatherlips and the traffic and noise bothered him. Every year, like clockwork it would rain on the final round. To placate the ghost, end the curse, and finish the tournament on time they moved the tournament to the weekend following Memorial Day. This change seemed to work, because the tournament hardly ever gets rained out, Memorial Day weekend is much more meteorologically  pleasant and they didn’t even have to change the name to the “Weekend After Memorial Tournament.” Who knew a Wyandot Chief would be such a stickler for a government created holidays?

Southwestern Ohio and West Virginia are filled with tales of curses, hauntings and ghostly retribution from abuses of settlers, and the violence of local tribes spilling into the afterlife (I will have a full report with video after Our Amazing Vacation). Ohio is built on ancient forests, filled with dark spirits, whenever my wife and I get off the freeway, and take a state route I am reminded of the words of Marlow in Heart of Darkness “this, also, has been one of the dark places on Earth.” 

Meets The Present

When we walk through the old forests, and the rolling hills you can almost feel the old world trying to break through. Ancient powers straining just below the vale of modern civilizaztion. If you are lucky you can catch a glimpse of an old building, or power line or telegraph pole, slowly being consumed, torn down by the old world. We are only visitors here, and you see it in the casual disregard nature has for our powers of construction. 

I look at that bare patch and I see the power of history coming to reclaim its heritage. My wife, who is not as atuned to the old ways, the old worlds, sees a low spot that has been drowned too often (the curse of Leatherlips all over). Today, I will spread some topsoil, grass seed, fertilizer and water faithfully. Maybe it will work, maybe not. I will let you know. In fact, I might take pictures, kind of work in progress mixed with before and after, and then combine them into a blockbuster movie (actually more of a slide show) with music, special effects and a dancing skeleton (our newest travel mascot).