Sunday morning coming down

sleep and tea 1959

We live on over an acre of land, as do all our neighbours. Behind our property are acres and acres of rural land. So, on a Sunday morning I think it is fair for me to consider that slipping out to the clothes line on the back garden terrace in my pjs is a fairly safe bet. Nope.

No sooner did I start pegging clothes on the line and four men appear at the boundary line between our property and the neighbours, not 10 metres from where I stood in my magnificent cotton pjs. I ignored them and they stared at me.

They were there to lop a very tall tree that the neighbours were concerned might fall on either of our houses. It had already dropped a branch on their house before we moved in. It was a beautiful tree but safety first, and honestly we both have so many trees and will no doubt plant more trees that one tree will not change the planet’s climate.

The tree was nicely positioned to fall on our bedroom if it did fall our way, so I went inside and told Mr FD that while it might suit my agenda if a tree crushed him to death in our bed, it may not suit his, and perhaps it might be time to rise and shine. Notice a recurring theme, dear readers? In most of my tales of home, Mr FD is in his bed…but no blog post is long enough to “discuss” that issue, so we won’t go there.

Mr FD grumbled something about wasn’t there better things to do at 8am on a Sunday morning, but I reminded him that we now lived in the country and most “real” men had been up and working for several hours. He chose to address the rest of his conversation to Augie Dog, who had the sense to move to a safer position in the hallway.

I dressed and went back outside to take a few photos. There were four men, one young, one so old he walked with a stoop and two mature baby boomers. The team didn’t instil confidence, and of course they had the young one up the tree.

Tree cutting 2013 148

When I left to drive to the city the sound of the chain saw and the cracking of branches followed me down our drive. Mr FD had informed me that the neighbour was going to save the wood for our winter fire so I left with the vision of a rustic artfully crafted wood pile waiting for me upon my return.

I drove to the city to spend the day with Daughter1, still on Baby Wait. I always enjoy the part of the journey through the countryside. Today I passed a bull manning up to do his duty with his cow lady love, only to see him  rejected. It was Sunday morning and maybe she thought it was her one day of rest!

Later in the day I drove home anticipating our wood pile, only to be met by the sight of a jumble of leaves and branches over the grass at property edge as well as hanging down over our retaining wall and covering our compost bin. A work in progress I hope, otherwise Mr FD better man up and start a little sawing and stacking!

They also didn’t chop the tree down. They lopped off all the branches and left it looking like a cross between a totem pole and a ladder for Jack to use instead of his bean stalk. Another work in progress, or they lost the heart to cut it down? Maybe the tree will fight back and blossom again…

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17 thoughts on “Sunday morning coming down

  1. sounds like they’ll be back – the lopping of the tree into logs sometimes needs a crane & harness thingy for the pieces so they don’t just fall onto your roofs.
    or maybe they just ran out of puff

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  2. If anyone started a chainsaw in our working-class neighborhood at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning, I think he’d have his head handed to him on a plate. For a number of people, Sunday is their only day off.

    I hope your daughter is well—I suppose comfortable is too much to ask. I remember in the last days of my first pregnancy being sick of being so huge, with this baby sitting on my digestive organs and my feet so swollen my toes looked like cocktail weenies. Also, maternity clothes back in those days weren’t as chic as they are now. I wanted to burn the stretchy-panel pants I’d been wearing almost daily for 7 months.

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  3. I remember my first trip down the coast of Baja California. We were hours away from any habitation, so I found a nice comfortable place away from camp to “read the morning paper”. As soon as my pants were around my ankles, a train of vehicles, five in all, drove by me honking their horns and waving wildly out their windows…..All I could do is wave back.

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  4. Undiluted Roundup will stop it resprouting if you don’t want it to. Trees which drop limbs are a pain. I was once quoted $1000 for loppers to cut down a couple of trees, so I did the job myself and only caused $900 worth of damage. Savings = $100 Smart GOF.

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  5. Quelle divine diary!

    We shall visit again.

    The pastoral scene of tree doctors and magnificent PJs and a husband-that-exchanges-views-wuth-the-dog is Most Charming.

    *wavingfromlosangeles* (with a British accent)

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