Felling Mighty Oaks

Last October the boys, armed to the teeth with chainsaws, went and cleared out a driveway and house-shaped space on our land. While it now gives me a thrill to walk down the "driveway" and imagine our house in all its glory standing in the spot that now lies cleared and ready, I was not, initially, eager to have those trees removed. I do not consider myself to be the tree-hugging type. However, as I stared at the metal teeth of my husbands chainsaw, I found within myself a desire to go and say goodbye to each and every unsuspecting tree that was about to meet its fate. Well . . . I'm over it. When I look at the pile of oak logs now lying on our property, I do not sense a stirring of emotion over their deaths. Instead, I feel something akin to glee at the possibilities their deaths have offered me. I see hardwood flooring, a dining room table, perhaps an armoire, or maybe some wooden chairs . . . Dead trees have their uses.

About the pictures.
The clearing process took place over two months-worth of Saturdays, and was mostly non-eventful. However, there was one incident that involved a stubborn tree that simply refused to fall. When it was cut, it chose to fall in the opposite direction than was intended, (this does not reflect well on the skills of those involved, does it?). As it fell, the branches of the tree became entangled in the branches of other trees, and would fall no further. It took two Saturdays for the guys to puzzle their way, not to mention hack their way, out of this quandry. And from my vantage point, it all looked uncomfortably dangerous. I was told by the boys that they knew exactly which path the tree would take as it finally fell. But, having seen a previous tree-felling prediction go awry, the children were kept securely within grabbing distance. I think at one point, when I saw the tree begin to sway and heard it groan, I actually scooped up my three-year old in one arm; my one and a half-year old in another, and bolted with surprising speed down the driveway. We didn't come back the next Saturday.

The above-mentioned tree is the one Aidan is wrestling with in the first photo. It is also the one at the end of the long yellow rope in the second photo. Even with five men straining with all their might . . . it would not fall. I think I just might have the difficult thing made into floor planks. To remind it that resistance was futile, and it was always meant to lie horizontally.