Lawd, Lawd. I thought that I was seeing things. Blood, aargh, blood coming from the...are you ready...pecan tree. Yes, boys and girls, Sistah Girl learned something new this week (and so did you).
The heat here has been relentless. Nevertheless, I was able to finally get Newman's Tree Service in to trim some of the trees on Thursday. Never judge a book by the cover. This man came ready to work, not at the crack of dawn, as promised, but with a front-loader and the biggest bucket truck, I've seen. No jackleg, no sir.
My neighbor had ignored my request to access my yard via her driveway so they wrestled that big truck up my driveway, put down steel plates to protect the walkway, and into the side yard where the trees in need of a trim are located. The assistant, looking every bit like Larry of the Three Stooges, directed him in.
As you can see, the pecan tree is humongous. Branches swept the roof of the house; had grown over and through a magnolia, arched over the Enterprise's fence, and swept the roof of the barn/shed/garage. His task was to trim it all the way around.
Well, boys and girls, when he cut it away from the magnolia (right outside of the barn/shed/garage) that poor little thing was stunted beyond repair. We tried to cut it into some semblance of shape but the more it was cut, the worse it looked. So down it came.
Oh dear. To get to the remaining trees and also finish the job on the pecan, we've got to cut down the Japanese quince (by the rear tire). Lawd, Lawd. I'm in misery. "Will it grow back? You're not going to cut it to the ground, are you?" Needed to cut it down low enough so that the truck could drive over it. And, what should be growing among the bush?? A young pecan tree. Guess a pecan dropped into its midst and took root. Wow! Now you really see how ragged the barn/shed/garage is. Not to worry, I have plans.
Around to the front to take care of one of the large magnolias. There's a huge limb which, if it breaks, will crush the front of the house. Got to go. Mr. Newman takes it down, piece by piece. The heat, by now, is smothering. Calling it a day. "We'll be here at 5:30 a.m., tomorrow." Self: "Right. I got up at 4 a.m., this morning, expecting you at the "crack of dawn."' So off they go. The front loader is in the side yard. The big bucket truck in the front. That thing gave me a scare every time I walked to the front of the house. Not accustomed to seeing anything but trees.
It is the crack of dawn, 5:30 a.m., on day two. Here's Mr. Newman, two assistants, and another huge truck. Lawd, Lawd. I'd been up since 5 a.m., but figured they didn't need my help. I sauntered out around 6, coffee cup in hand. (Don't even think I wasn't watching out of the windows.) Today is clean up. Knock down the knobby protrusions on the pecan tree and others from previous trims. Cut the remaining branches. Gather up the mounds of brush and timber laying around. Replace the landscape timbers and pavers which had to be moved to accommodate the big truck.
And, then it happened. One gnarled protrusion after another was cut away. Mr. Newman and I are busy chatting when I noticed a stain spreading on the pecan tree. "Is that blood?" "Yes, ma'am. Some trees do that. It's a form of healing." OMG. I have deprived the squirrels of their roosts; lost a large quantity of shade; and, now, the tree is bleeding? I've hurt the damned tree.
By 9:30 a.m., all the debris had been loaded into the roll-off dumpster truck. Not a twig or leaf to be seen. The side yard is a cleaner, larger, dust bowl. The stain on the tree is still there. A reminder that when you cut, I bleed.
Be safe. Be Blessed.