What I Saw

Newsletter 2024-08-15

There’s no sound quite like a revving chainsaw early in the morning. I’m the last guy who should be trusted with any combination of blades and chains, especially when that tandem is attached to a motor. I never would have bought such a thing for myself. My wife Lola had no such qualms about my survival, mainly because she’s the primary beneficiary on my life insurance. She noticed a good deal for a small, electric chainsaw and saw her chance to cash in. When the device arrived on my front porch, I immediately knew it was a bad idea. I was so excited. Nothing fun is ever safe. The best toys come with sixteen warning labels.

There are a lot of things on my tiny property that could use a good chainsawing. When we moved in, we had three large ash trees. All of them are now gone thanks to the emerald ash borer. Props to those bugs for eating their one and only food source to the point of extinction. That should work out well for them in the long run. Nonetheless, their gluttony forced me to be their accomplice. I had all three ash trees cut down. My war on nature was a rousing success. With the old growth gone, all we have left are the two apple trees Lola and I planted a few months after we bought our home in 2008. They’re both now twenty feet tall, which doesn’t make sense since 2008 was just a few years ago. I’ll never stop being confused about how everything is getting older but me. The trees are a delight for my pigs since they randomly drop food throughout the day. Every time there’s a strong gust of wind or a sudden rainstorm, my small herd of swine rushes outside to see what fruit will fall from the sky. Those same branches provide protection. If I need to catch one of the pigs to trim their hooves, they dart under the trees, which have many low branches, most of which are dead. They form a dense, prickly wall that keeps me at bay. The dead wood had to go, and I had just the tool to do it.

Tree trimming is surprisingly dangerous. Okay, maybe not “surprisingly.” The process of cutting down a full-size tree involves dropping huge branches from high in the air, often while standing on a ladder. I’ve heard of a few instances locally where someone died when a large chunk of the tree they were attacking fell on their head. The victims suffered from a fatal condition known as being male. When having fun with power tools and destroying nature, it’s easy to lose sight of your own safety. I’m cheap, but I also want to survive. I didn’t feel remotely bad about paying someone to take down my ash trees. Actually, I weaseled out of paying for one of them. It was between the sidewalk and the road, making it the city’s problem. I hounded them to look at it for a few years in a row until they finally agreed it was dead enough to take down. Someday, a doctor will conduct a similar evaluation of me. I’ll leave my medical power of attorney with whichever daughter hates me the least. Those Friday night Halo sessions with the girls are a loyalty test. The crew I hired to remove the other two trees consisted of trained professionals equipped with cranes and cherry pickers. They carefully secured each branch with ropes to prevent anything from crashing to the ground. I didn’t need that level of precaution when dealing with the dead branches on my apple trees. I wouldn’t be cutting down anything above my shoulders. Plus, I had plastic safety glasses. What could possibly go wrong?