08/19/05
My husband swears that I start each day by asking myself this: what I could possibly do to put myself into physical exhaustion and/or danger. I don’t really ask myself that, but maybe I should start. Maybe it would deter me from doing such things like I did today.
So, I’m officially on vacation. The first one I have taken in over a year, possibly two. I like to work and I do it a lot, so vacations don’t rank high on my to-do list. But this time I was looking forward to it. Today was my first vacation day. My husband, begrudgingly getting ready for work asked me what I was going to do today. “Dunno, sleep a lot, play video games, maybe garden.� I told him cheerfully. At that point, I didn’t know what mischief I myself was planning.
I sang to myself while I made coffee, a chore I usually save for work, doing it at home for a change felt nicely domestic. I took my coffee and a hunk of lemon pudding cake bought specifically for this purpose out to the front porch, sat in the sun and contemplated my garden.
My garden is horseshoe shaped rimmed with five moderate sized beds and a big ugly empty patch where a lawn should be. Four of the five beds are finished… well, almost. To finish the lawn I would need to outline the fifth bed, something I’ve been struggling to do for months now. Over the last year I’ve bought five-million bricks of various sizes and have yet to put them into a pile in a way that pleases me. I should fix the bed and prepare for the lawn.
I was happily sucking crumbs off of my fingers and mentally picturing gorgeous and robust roses in the currently vacant bed when I noticed a rather large shadow that covered the whole bed. Tracing the shadow back to its source I sat regarding quite a tall pine tree that I’d already cut all the lower branches off of in an effort to get more sun to the bed.
I looked at the tree. I sipped more coffee. I looked at the shadow and cast a furtive glance at the garage. Now what could I possibly to do to put myself into physical exhaustion and/or danger. Hmmm.
I found the little mini chainsaw buried under cobwebs in the garage. The last time I’d used it on some branches it’d gotten stuck, the smell of smoke and possibly fire told me that I’d broken it. Plugging it in now though it revved right up, I guess everything needs a rest. Well, from me anyway.
I dragged yards of extension cord across the driveway and examined my victim. It was about eight inches thick and taller than the house. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. That of course has never stopped me before. I started right in, taking a little from all sides. The wood chips and sawdust kicking out from the chainsaw snowed all over me and the hapless plants beneath the tree. After several minutes the tree shuddered and sighed vaguely to the right. I panicked slightly. If the tree fell where it was leaning it would take out my rose bush, that though practically dead, wouldn’t have a chance after a tree fell on it… at least it wasn’t falling toward the oversized satellite dish, which was my biggest fear.
I carved a chunk out of one side of the tree, feeling very professional even though I didn’t know what I was doing, and then I tried pushing. I’m not very tall and leverage was a bit of a problem but finally the tree gave a satisfying creaking groan and fell… right onto the rhododendron hedge! Ack! The hedge had been the one thing that had remained sturdy throughout all of my misguided gardening attempts. And now I had felled a tree on it.
I figured that if I worked quickly the damage would be minimal. I started at the base of the now downed tree and sawed off hunks of log, deforesting the branches as I went. The driveway soon filled up with luscious smelling pine branches. I regretting not doing this later in the year so that I could use them in a Christmas theme somehow.
Sawing the base of the tree up turned out to be tricky. I would use the chainsaw, but then it would get stuck and I’d have to use the clippers to take out the rest of the branch. This probably wasn’t professional and looking back on it, probably dangerous as well. My husband is probably right. I dragged the branches down and off the driveway, my sap covered fingers sticking together, making snow gloves of my hands. One by one I piled the branches just off the road like dead bodies. Now all that was left were the logs. Picking up one turned out to be an exercise in futility. They were extremely heavy even though they were only about two feet long. I rolled/dragged each through the garden and tried to place them decoratively in the wooded portion just off the garden, where I hide all the other dead bodies of plants and bushes that I have killed over the years. It’s kind of scary back there.
Back in the kitchen, wanting a second cup of coffee, my sappy hands were unable to let go of the pot, and trying to get sugar out of a packet was taking some serious engineering skill. I vaguely recalled my mother-in-law Rose mentioning that she heard butter could take sap off of skin. I opened the fridge and grabbed the butter, then took several minutes to disengage my hand from the fridge door. I’m not a butter manipulation artist but at least I didn’t reach into the tub of butter like I was sorely tempted to do. I was an adult. Instead, I spooned butter onto my hands and then squished it like a happy three year old. Soon I had what could only be referred to as butter froth. Brown oily bubbles dripped off of my hands and thoroughly grossed me out. Adding soap to the mix didn’t seem to help but washing the gunk off I realized that by god butter really worked!
I successfully made myself another cup of coffee and went back out to the porch to survey my success. The vacant spot where the tree had been looked awesome, the bed was now basking in sunlight. The wind blew and I heard a creaking sound. A second tree, about ten inches around and taller than the house, shivered in the breeze and dropped some needles onto the park bench parked below it. I looked distastefully at the needle dropping and then contemplated the tree.
“Better watch out tree.� I warned. “I took down your brother, and I’ll take you down too in a heart beat. I’m a tree f****** master!�
Posted by Emilie in Gardening