Bye-Bye, Bradfords

Well. There you go. 
The Bradford pears are as gone as Bradford pears can be. I was truly having my doubts about whether or not we'd made the right decision in having them removed but for right this second, at least, I am not unhappy about it at all. In fact, I feel a sense of peace looking out from the back porch. There's a lot less going on now. But it's more than that. It's like, "Oh. That's what it's supposed to look like."
Is it possible that those trees were so obviously out of place here that their presence felt somehow disturbing to me? 

Watching the father and son work together to cut those trees down and clear the yard of branches was truly something. I woke up to see this.

That's the father. He was buckled in, strapped in, and chain-saw welding. A tree monkey. A chain-saw cowboy.

He was perching on extremely small branches and dangling in thin air. He was cutting, trimming, and moving with a swiftness that defied belief. 

When he'd come down and take a breather, he'd say, "I'm not as young as I used to be."
I told his son that although he may not be as young as he used to be, he sure is nimble. 
"Yep," the son said. "Sixty years old and still in the trees. And he's had three heart attacks."  
"Excuse me," I said, "But holy shit!"
"I know. He has three stents. The doctors say that the work he does is why he's probably still alive." I could just feel the admiration shining off the son. I thought about how I'd feel if I had a husband who did work like that and had had three heart attacks. 
"Are your parents still together?" I asked. I am a nosy bitch.
"Nope," he said. "They're divorced. She's remarried and living in Virginia. But she used to work with him. She did what I do now."

Another holy shit was in order. 

Families. Not only do we all personally have a story, our families do too. Absolutely. I'll never forget a birth I attended when I was working at the Birth Centre and discovered that the mom, the dad, the grandparents and all of the aunts and uncles, worked in sheetrock. That's what they did. I'm not sure why that detail has stayed with me but it has. I just loved the image of the sheetrock installing family welcoming a new member into the family. I wonder if that baby grew up to be part of the family business.

Mr. Moon went back for another load of compost this morning and although I offered to help shovel it, he asked if I'd finish up the last of the weeding instead. 
I was quite happy to do that. I really want to plant my beans now but it's not quite time yet. They need more heat, I think. Although this weather has been perfect for us, cool, and clear without a cloud in the sky, the summer vegetables would probably like the soil to be a little warmer before we set out plants or push seeds into the ground. 

I have to say that the way the air feels, dryer, and cool in the shade, warm in the sun, along with the way the sky looks, has given me such primal pleasure that I can't help but feel content. Another one of those days in which the thoughts that so often torment me seem so far, far away. 
And don't think I do not recognize and appreciate that because I do.

Mr. Moon just went out to check the fire that the tree guys started and which has been slow-hot-burning since yesterday. I took it's picture earlier this afternoon.

Again- scale is impossible to get but those are some very large logs. Some of the wood went to someone who wants it for lumber and carving so that's not all that came down. When Glen expressed surprise that trees so freshly cut would burn, the boss-dad said, "Aw, they'll burn fine if the fire is hot enough."
And it is, obviously. That man knows more about trees and wood than I can even imagine. 

So that's the end of the story of the Bradford pears and the beginning of the story of what comes next to live in that space. Just as we humans are adjusting to the trees being gone, so are the birds and the squirrels and the cats too. Both Jack and Maurice have been walking around back there, trying to figure it out, I think. Maurice especially has been disturbed by the activity and the noises. I think she is a very intelligent animal and it's so hard on her to realize that something out of the ordinary is definitely going on without being able to understand exactly what or why. And she's an anxious cat, prone to worrying. Jack, on the other hand, doesn't seem too perturbed. I think he is more at peace with the fact that humans do weird shit all the time. 
We should all be more like Jack. 

Here's a picture of a brown anole, another invasive that has made its home in a place that it did not originate from. 

These we let be. They are here to stay.

Love...Ms. Moon