Life and Death in the Yard

   Spring! is about to burst like a piece of overripe fruit and I can barely contain myself. So many times a day I find myself in a different window just staring out. From a living room window I watch the quince buds on the vine still folded in upon themselves just waiting for enough warm invitation to open,

 and beside that, the wisteria crawling all over the quince, as well as the fence, but still too uncertain of even putting out buds. The window on the staircase looks out at the greening bamboo and the forthysia starting to yellow.
   The climbing roses are clinging seriously to the beautifully weathered fence and that relationship promises to be a lovely one.

   From the dining room window I study the two beds which are all but singing about what's happening under the warm sun. Two small stands of peonies have raised their shiny crimson stalks.

   This past Saturday we had to see to a sugar maple in the front yard that was mostly dead. I met Ed on one of my walks. He was cutting down a cedar. I asked if he knew of someone who could help us save as much of our tree as possible. He told me he was our man. And he was. He came by and taught us about our trees; most are sugar maples which are over 85 years old, and two of them had been struck by lighting. Lightning was what had killed our patient.
   So Ed spent most of the day in the tree with a chain saw. About half of the tree had to be taken down, and he doesn't hold out much hope for the rest. We do feel better that most of the death has been scraped away, despite its obvious embarrassment, and we'll wait for one of those natural miracles. Until then we have looped a fifteen foot length of climbing rose around its nudeness to keep it company.

   Of the death - seasoned wood. By Monday afternoon Pete and I had moved and stacked the cut branches and limbs that Ed had left under the tree for us - about a cord we think.

Oh, how wonderful it is to be working outside - something we will be doing for many months. Ahead of us are some tasks which we really aren't prepared for, so much more adventure to follow.

Half gone but not forgotten