Oh my stars! I’ll say one thing for these tree people, they know what they’re doing. They began on time. Got right down to it. Big bucket truck with chipper. Hard hats? Check. Safety vests? Check. Eye Protection? Check. Ear Protection? Check. All in order. Really. I took Dickens out to acclimate him to the noise. Oh, yeah. The racket from the chainsaw, chipper, and truck caused a stir. Every once in a while the noise diminishes and the peace restores my soul. Whew! Don’t think I could handle that all day.
The lumberjack stands in the bucket and flits from branch to branch taking down limbs. He moves with a flow. Every movement has purpose. A “thud” rings out as larger pieces fall from the sky. His ground men are always looking up so they don’t wear what he’s sending down. I wonder if his arms get tired from holding the chainsaw aloft. Just the lumberjack and his tool of the trade. Maybe that’s what I have to do – pare things down to in my life. Just the basics. Just enough to put food on the table and use the tools of my trade (um, that would be writing) to go from creative task to creative task (or in his case limb to limb). But, wait.
What’s that smell? Good Lord, the fumes from the chipper and truck are coming through the windows! This equipment sits 10 feet from the house. I run around closing windows…check on Dickens and Amelia. The stench is awful. I set up fans to redirect the fumes away from their rooms. I’ll put the animals in a room on the far side of the din and stench with three doors closed. I’m grateful to have the trees down, eager to clean out the back yard, and to have a sense of sanity, however, slight restored.
Today feels calmer. I welcome the rain. The back yard resembles a battlefield with remnants of 100-year old trees slumbering. In the end, my neighbor won the battle, kept us safe, and taught us a few lessons along the way, with the help of a lumberjack.