Tree Fall (Pt. 2)

So, with two other trees under my belt, I called up my friend JB, who has performed well at the end of a rope as we sought to guide a tree down as it fell.
He was game for another tree-felling session, so we ventured over to B and S's house to drop a big old diseased pine tree that looked like it was on its last legs.  We looked things over.  It was a good day to work there partly because the tree would be falling into the street, but because the city was installing new water mains, the street was torn up and few people were using it.  The air was calm, no wind.  The construction crew was right up the block.
But we could see the drop wasn't going to be easy.
The tree stood next to the driveway in front of their house, its trunk split into three main sections that rose maybe 50 feet into the air.  Big.  Heavy.
And leaning just a bit toward the house, it seemed.
We examined the tree.
We walked around it, considering where it might fall.  We didn't want to hit the electrical can out front.  Or the fire hydrant.  Or the neighbor's tree across the street.
And we didn't want to hit the house.
So, we spent some time getting a rope into the tree as high as we could.  JB even climbed a ladder and threw the rope as high as could be.
We looked at the tree again.  There were some low branches on the house side we thought might be wise to eliminate, to avoid that dropping-on-the-house problem.  So we cut off several branches.
We tested the rope.
We warned the neighbor lady to get moving if she was going to keep her hair appointment.
I started my saw, adjusted my ear protectors, and I cut the notch.
Nice.  A good start.
Then I cut the back cut, deep into the tree, as JB put all his weight into the rope.
I could feel my saw binding in the cut.  I pulled my saw.  The tree stood, then leaned back toward the house onto the cut.  JB called, "I can't hold it!"
The tree stood.  JB pulled.  I ran into the street to join him, and we pulled on the rope, our desperation mounting.  It wasn't budging.  We were verging on panic, the huge tree all but cut in two, standing, barely, next to the house.  "I can't hang on," JB said.  I took the rope.
I'm not the best person to have in a panic like this.  I think my mind begins to skitter to a stop, the possibilities of what I might do going click click click like changing channels.  This one?  This one?  This one? This one?  Constantly stuck on not choosing.  JB does better.
One of us brought the pickup around as the other held the rope.  We tied it to the pickup.  It held tight, a taut line running from my pickup bumper to about halfway up the tree.  I could see the frayed spots on the rope, one knot where I had previously put my chainsaw through it.  Was there possibility of a breeze?
JB thought we could get someone from the construction crew to help.  I thought of other possibilities.  Crossed them off, thought of more.  All were pitiful.  And all would require that I admit that this tree fall was a disaster.
But JB decided to run up the street.  I talked to S on the driveway and couldn't help but make the dire situation clear.  Then JB came running back down the street.

Tree Fall (pt. 1)

This summer has seen several trees come down at the mercy of my Stihl chain saw.  It's never a happy thing to cut a tree, but these were sad, sorry, aged trees that were on the verge of falling into the yard or driveway, or--worse yet--onto a house where they might hurt someone or damage the house.

So, we cut down a tree that had a big branch come down off it and expose the rotten core, so that it only had about half of the outer bark even available to keep it upright.  Our friends Amy and Phil helped on an early Sunday morning when we thought the fewest cars would be out trying to get by on the typically busy street that runs by our house and where we would be dropping the tree.  But the, as the two women stood on the street blocking traffic, and as I made the final cut to drop the tree, a woman in a red SUV exclaimed (at about 7:15am), "I can't be late for church!"  She then zipped around our guards and continued on her mission from God.  And narrowly escaped the tree fall.

Once we had that tree cut up and hauled away and cleaned up the driveway, we had a little breakfast.

Then we journeyed to Phil and Amy's to cut down their tree, one split down the middle so that every breeze opened and closed a long crack on the trunk.  Theirs too, had rot down the center.  We dropped their big ash tree into the street, cut it up, hauled branches and twigs away, and then hauled the firewood back to our place.  Six or so hours and we had the two trees down.

But yesterday was another story.

Inside and Outside

The wife found her first tulip volunteering that spring had finally arrived in South Dakota yesterday. And the lovely day continued, as I was able to fire up the wood splitter in 40 degrees and split the wood that had piled up after cutting down some trees last fall.  I rolled some of the logs from back in the trees out into a clearing so they can be split.  Then we took a good walk/jog in the park, where people were walking their dogs and enjoying the warm day.  Then back to more outside work for a while, and lunch and the last "free" episode of "Mad Men" on Netflix.  Then some school work and a trip back up to DSU where we saw Expatriate and Burlap Wolf King play some awesome song.  A good, long spring day, full of good times.

The First Tulip Arrives in Madison

From Tree to Flame

The back yard has been noisy many evenings as I've been busy making big blocks of wood into small blocks of wood.  The wood splitter has a new engine, and it's been working well, making the process much smoother with a steady, reliable power plant.

As the winter comes on, we'll move the wood to a handier spot near the back door and begin the winter-long process of feeding our nifty wood stove and enjoying the wood as it transforms from fuel into heat.  I love it when the wood is finally aflame, and I'm relaxing in the radiant glow.

Apple Tree Planting

The wife and I put an apple tree in the ground tonight to replace a tired old fellow who died last year and will never blossom again. Here, however, is how you deal with that. Plant a new one.