Last weekend, Andy’s mom and a friend came out to visit us. We had woken up early that Saturday because we didn’t know when they’d be there, and we had some cleaning to do. We finished our cleaning, and waited a bit, but no visitors. (Turns out they, like most people on their first visit to our house, had been slowed down by the windy, climby roads and also gotten lost.)

Inspired by my mom the week before (who said, “Hey, maybe I’ll take the lopers and start taking off the lower branches of that pine you want to take down.”), I took the lopers and started taking off the lower branches of that pine we want to take down.

The folks who lived here before planted a lot of trees, but they planted them rather willy-nilly. This particular pine was about six or ten feet from the driveway. Over the years, it had grown to be probably two stories high, but because it was so close to the driveway, it had a very funny shape where the bottom had been trimmed back. The tree looked stupid. Not to mention, it was in a tree cluster. Four large trees planted in about a 20’x20′ square. A birch, two tulip poplars, and a white pine. It drove me nuts everytime I saw it because the trees looked so cramped and appeared about ready to start a fight, “He’s on my side!” “No, I’m not! She touched me!” “Get off my side!” “Quit touching me!”

As sad as it is to take down nice, big trees, sometimes you just gotta do it. I foresee many other trees on this property coming down, alas. If only people would think ahead when they plant saplings of the mighty oak or poplar.

So! I was outside loping off branches and pitching them into a big pile. Andy couldn’t miss out on the fun and grabbed the hedge trimmers to snip off the yummy outter edges of the branches to feed the sheep. (Vitamin C!) Eventually he got bored with the lack of adventure in trimming branch tips, and I ran out of branches I could reach to lop, and Andy’s mom and her friend still hadn’t found our house.

Andy disappeared up to the tool shed for a moment and returned triumphantly with….the ax.

We don’t have a chainsaw yet, so Andy took the ax and began to chop. I took a lot of pictures of him in action, but he doesn’t quite have the technique down, and he looked sort of silly. And, more than that, when I see the photos of him chopping, I get afraid he’s going to chop his leg off.

Andy chopped and chopped and eventually….TIMBER!!!

Now we had a problem. See where the tree is? Right across the driveway? The driveway Andy’s mom and friend will soon be trying to drive up? We rushed to get the tree off the driveway, expecting at any moment to hear the crunch on the gravel indicating the approach of a car. Of course, we couldn’t just move the tree. It was sort of heavy, so Andy loped like a jackrabbit and I drug branches off into piles along the driveway. Finally, I saw the blue car heading down the hill from the craft shack, “They’re coming!!!” We grabbed branches and PULLED. And PULLLLLLLLED. *SNAP* The last bit of tree fiber holding the tree and stump together cracked, and the tree moved! We were able to pull all the tree bits off the road by the time the car reached us!

Phew.

Anyone want to come out and help us finish off this tree? Don’t worry, you don’t have to rush. Something tells me that the piles of branches and the huge tree body aren’t going anywhere.

There are things that can be a pain about living up on a mountain surrounded by cows. The sounds of the cows enjoying themselves all night long. Having to walk a quarter mile to your mailbox. No stores within short driving distance. Noisy cows.

But when it’s a cold, clear fall night, before the moon rises, and you stand in the driveway and look up at a gazillion stars and the Milky Way, it can seem a good tradeoff.