“Oh, look at that tree in the backyard honey, you better do something to it before it falls over,” my wife said Saturday morning.
“Uh-huh,” I said.
“Maybe you could cut some branches off of it or something, it’s leaning pretty far,” she added.
“Uh-huh,” I added, wisely.
Four hours later, after working in the basement, framing some more shower walls, working on the pocket door, (whoever invented that modern space saving miracle is a genius, but not a proponent of “easy to assemble”), and generally doing everything except look at the tree, I wandered outside. It would be easy to say that I went outside to look at the tree, but in fact, I had forgotten completely about the tree.
I had actually gone out to get the roto-tiller from the shed and to try and start it. Since it is technically still winter and the roto-tiller hasn’t had a tune up yet, starting it was likely impossible (a theory that was eventually proved), but I did manage to stretch my right arm to be somewhat longer than my left. This is of course, what several hundred increasingly frustrated yanks on the starter cord of a mid-winter resting roto-tiller will create. That, and an absolute obliviousness to everything in close proximity.
So my loving wife, and, I should insert here in case she reads this, very wise woman that she is comes outside and asks “did that tree fall down?” (I emphasize down here because she didn’t really ask if it fell down, but whether it fell down). Now I hadn’t even noticed the tree, even though it was twenty-five feet long and lying horizontal on the grass not ten feet from where I was yanking on the roto-tiller cord, but her emphasis on down confused me. Helpful husband that I am, and confused over her question, I laughed and replied, “no sweetheart…the wind blew it down.”
“Really?” she asked.
“NO not really!” I said, “of course it fell down, what do you think?”
“I thought maybe you cut it down,” she said. I looked down at the roto-tiller. She has been known to hand me the flat tip screwdriver when I ask for a phillips…but cutting down a tree with a roto-tiller? More confusion. I looked up at her.
“I can’t believe that tree fell down,” she said. I love this woman! I looked at her. I looked at the tree. It was lying in the yard roots akimbo, never to reach up towards the sky again and she couldn’t believe it had fallen down.
“Well sweetheart,” I said rather mockingly (though with a great deal of love), “there it is! Proof that it fell down.” I smiled at her. She laughed, then she gave me that coy wife smile that is usually reserved for the “I’m not going to say I told you so but I told you so discussion…”
“See what happens when you don’t listen to your wife?” She walked away, leaving me staring at the four eight to ten inch thick cedar trees that spouted from the same root at about two feet above the ground…er beside the root.
I went to get the chainsaw to begin the hard labor of rendering the tree movable, but since it is technically midwinter and the chainsaw….OH NO…I’m not falling for THAT twice. I didn’t even bother trying. Instead, I went and got the next next best thing to a chainsaw…my fifteen year old son and a bow saw…what fun we had.
Pictures and the rest of the story to follow.