The Leaning Tree
Twelve years ago Hurricane Fran came through here and blew over a number of the larger trees in our woods, mainly the pines, which I don't have many of, and the red oaks. I long ago cut up and used such of those as weren't too far away to cart to the house, but one big, tough customer remained. It was a hickory across the creek and up the hill, and it wasn't completely blown over, though its root system had been lifted a little. The hickory had a nighly noticeable lean of about 15 degrees.
Yesterday afternoon, after studying that tree for that long a time, and inspired by being behind in my woodcutting by having started late, with more time lost because of my recent well pump experience, and chastened by the extreme cold of recent days, I finally made the trek in the windy high 30's cold with my cartload of tools up there.
I usually go through a lot of mystique whenever I cut a tree, especially a major one.
Following that I started cutting, feeling glad that at least I didn't have to worry about the tree's direction of fall. I cut the big front notch okay though probably not deep enough, at less than a third through (it was very cold out there). But as I was trying to deepen it my saw stopped running.
So it was back down the hill on my wobbly legs and up the other hill to get my other saw, and back again, with my less sharp second saw. But it was enough to get the crucial back cut started, and finally the tree started making those sounds of fibers breaking, signalling that it is going down.
But hickories are tough trees, and another big one that I cut years ago and that was standing straight up, stayed that way down to nearly the last square inch of wood remaining, a dangerous situation, and especially in those days before I caught on to using come-alongs to control the direction of fall.
So now, very gingerly I would cut a little, and stop quickly and back way off when I heard more cracking and breaking. But the tree then became hung up in two tall but much smaller oaks that I had calculated it would just brush by. One of the hickory's outstretched limbs, however, wouldn't allow that.
Finally, with the sun having disappeared and the cold getting severe, I just covered my equipment and left, hoping that the tree would finish falling in the night, as it was now about halfway down.
Later, I hadn't been asleep long before something woke me suddenly and gave me a big scare, because it sounded as if there had been an explosion somewhere on the property. Making an extremely loud noise to be so far away, the hickory made a prolonged breaking sound before delivering a final sledgehammer blow to the ground. It was exactly 10'45 P.M.
I am thankful for this gift of that rree and of the woods for more than the usual number of reasons.
Yesterday afternoon, after studying that tree for that long a time, and inspired by being behind in my woodcutting by having started late, with more time lost because of my recent well pump experience, and chastened by the extreme cold of recent days, I finally made the trek in the windy high 30's cold with my cartload of tools up there.
I usually go through a lot of mystique whenever I cut a tree, especially a major one.
Following that I started cutting, feeling glad that at least I didn't have to worry about the tree's direction of fall. I cut the big front notch okay though probably not deep enough, at less than a third through (it was very cold out there). But as I was trying to deepen it my saw stopped running.
So it was back down the hill on my wobbly legs and up the other hill to get my other saw, and back again, with my less sharp second saw. But it was enough to get the crucial back cut started, and finally the tree started making those sounds of fibers breaking, signalling that it is going down.
But hickories are tough trees, and another big one that I cut years ago and that was standing straight up, stayed that way down to nearly the last square inch of wood remaining, a dangerous situation, and especially in those days before I caught on to using come-alongs to control the direction of fall.
So now, very gingerly I would cut a little, and stop quickly and back way off when I heard more cracking and breaking. But the tree then became hung up in two tall but much smaller oaks that I had calculated it would just brush by. One of the hickory's outstretched limbs, however, wouldn't allow that.
Finally, with the sun having disappeared and the cold getting severe, I just covered my equipment and left, hoping that the tree would finish falling in the night, as it was now about halfway down.
Later, I hadn't been asleep long before something woke me suddenly and gave me a big scare, because it sounded as if there had been an explosion somewhere on the property. Making an extremely loud noise to be so far away, the hickory made a prolonged breaking sound before delivering a final sledgehammer blow to the ground. It was exactly 10'45 P.M.
I am thankful for this gift of that rree and of the woods for more than the usual number of reasons.
posted by Carl (aka Sofarsogoo) | 4:24 AM
2 Comments:
Your tree knew it was time to go, unlike some politicans and professional athletes.
Hi, Andante. Yes, that's a good way to look at it. I thought myself that it had to be tired of standing for so long a time at such an undignified angle, compared to all its nearby neighbors that were anywhere near its height and all rearing straight up.
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