Last fall, in a burst of yard work, we made a big pile of sawed-off branches and errant twigs. We made this pile in the middle of the backyard. At the time, it seemed like a fine idea. I remember thinking that we could make a bonfire at some point. Maybe toast some marshmallows. Clearly, my Vermont sensibilities clouded my vision because once the snow melted, there was that big ol’ pile of tree leftovers. There had been no fire. The pile seemed shrunken, but only slightly.
So Saturday found me hauling parts of this pile down my embankment. Picture scratched forearms, slipping on sodden leaves, cursing. Piles are harder to move than you think. Later on I saw that other people had similar issues with downed tree limbs, etc. But these people had bundled up their twigs into tidy little packages trussed with twine. They looked like eco-friendly lawn decor awaiting the trash pick-up. My first thought was: Who does this? How much time did they spend getting their branches and twigs all the same length? Did they use a saw or a chainsaw? I remain in awe of such careful conscientious lawncare. Meanwhile, I’m slowly turning my back acres into a forest. Or a dump.