ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, November 10, 1996 TAG: 9611110091
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
COLUMN: Guest Column
SOURCE: LYNN NYSTROM
A first look at my land and I am not sure why anyone would have wanted it. Except maybe Sanford and Son. The creek was nourishing parts of old cars; the hillsides made Andy Warhol's artwork look good. Formica table tops and bed springs were the ornaments of the years gone by. But don't get me wrong - some of these "antiques" served a purpose. They acted as parts of the fencing for the old pigpen on the property. However, even the pigs had sense enough to leave.
The weeds in the field were waist high. I doubt there was a blade of orchard grass on the old pasture. There were at least five outbuildings that needed to be torn down, and in those tottering structures were treasures only a pack rat could enjoy. The oldest architectural novelty was a three-room "dwelling" sitting on top of a root cellar. When we tore that building down, we found newspaper and linoleum used to insulate the walls. I certainly admired the ingenuity.
To remove the old cars, I must have called no fewer than 20 people in the New River area. I finally located a gentleman from Elliston who agreed to haul them off for $100 and, more importantly, my assurance that no snakes were using the vehicles as a residence. By telephone, that was an easy promise to make, but I must admit I had not conducted a thorough inspection. When the first snake slithered out as the crane picked up the cab, I knew I was in trouble.
But those are days gone by. After the first six months of hauling trash to the landfill or burning it on the property each weekend, Tansy Hollow started to become home, sweet home.
We started the first wooden fence for the horses (no more bedsprings). You always have to build for your animals first. One night as we put away the tools, the dogs went after a deer. As I futilely ran after them, I noticed a small creature running equally as neurotically toward me. It was the doe's fawn. Its mother had taken my dogs off on a wild chase in order to protect her offspring. The fawn and I literally stopped within 10 feet of each other, and just stared for several seconds. I was so enthralled I couldn't move, but the fawn began gingerly to move away, and I am sure, sincerely hoped that mom would be back soon.
When my four-legged hunters returned hot and panting, I loaded them up in the truck, and knew that mother and child would have a happy reunion. That may have been the moment I realized how much I would like living in Tansy Hollow.
The previous owner was Nita Spradlin, a remarkable lady who, in her 80s and living alone, was still burning wood as her sole source of heat. She follows the footsteps of her mother, Mrs. Winfrey, who died around 1978 at an age that would qualify her for a happy birthday greeting from "The Today Show." The 99-year-old Mrs. Winfrey lived in what I now call the Tansy Hollow guest house. She never had running water in the house, but she enjoyed a nice cold bath in the creek that is fed by numerous springs on the land. She only discovered the benefits of a monthly electric bill during the last five years of her existence.
Nita Spradlin told us many tales of how the 150 acres was used. Horses were used to log the land, and a clever person can still identify the skid tracks. The remnants of peach and apple orchards dot the hillsides, and huge tomato and corn gardens were planted on the inclines. It was hard for me to imagine such a garden. Not anymore. Now I am doing the same thing, only making a hillside a pasture, working it by hand because if I try to drive the tractor on the slope, I freeze in a very unstable location. There is a little bit of "Darling, give me Park Avenue" in my blood, and not enough of "Farmer in the Dell." But I need more pasture for the horses, so if Mrs. Spradlin could do it
Well, today I have lived on the property for some 12 years. I have been snowed in for days at a time. I've had to walk four miles to my home when the Sugar Grove road - death-defying in normal weather - was a solid sheet of ice. Now, I would not trade it for all of suburbia.
But as time passed, my remote part of Montgomery County allowed suburbia to come to me. At one time, everyone in Sugar Grove knew every neighbor along the five-mile road. We'd laugh at the traffic tie-ups that stemmed from neighbors stopping cars in the middle of the road to talk. We'd call it a town meeting. Today, as nice as the community remains, it houses more and more folks whose names I don't know. Creek beds have changed due to erosion from logging and questionable building practices.
I decided to ask Ridgerunner Forestry Services to conduct a forest stewardship management plan for me. They found "dogwoods provide berries for songbirds, grouse, and turkey; red maple browse for deer in the understory; Virginia pine thickets provide thermal cover for a variety of songbirds and game species. Mountain laurel provides both food and essential cover for ruffed grouse. Plenty of small blueberry shrubs to provide food for bear, deer, grouse, and bluebirds the mast producing oaks and hickories are providing additional food for deer, squirrels, bear, and turkey."
Shortly after that, I approached the Virginia Outdoors Foundation, now headquartered in Blacksburg, to seek the shelter of an easement. I knew I never wanted my land to be subdivided for any species other than the four-legged kind. I understand development and the need for rational progress. But I have witnessed too much irrational "progress" in the time I have lived in Montgomery County.
Granting the Virginia Outdoors Foundation an easement is not giving my land away, as some have suggested. It is an act of stewardship affecting
how my land may be used in perpetuity. The purpose is to ensure that the land cannot be subdivided or used for industrial development.
A friend of mine and his son were recently walking with me through the woods. The son told me, "This is like walking through parts of the Jefferson National Forest." I couldn't have asked for a better confirmation of my decision to protect the land for generations to come.
Lynn Nystrom is news director for the College of Engineering at Virginia Tech and is president of the Virginia Press Women.
Editor's Note: Lynn Nystrom and Rick Claus recently granted an easement on 150 acres they own in a rural section of Montgomery County to the Virginia Outdoors Foundation. She agreed to write a column about their decision.
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