Beech Tree News Network

There are times when I love yard work.  There is a certain peacefulness to being outside, digging, planting and trimming, which is what I was doing when my husband, Garey, decided to help me.  Have you ever noticed when a guy gets involved with a project, the noise level increases by several decibels?  It’s because power tools are usually involved.
    Some of our shrubs in the front yard died last winter, so I suggested we tie a rope to them, hitch it to the bumper of the pickup and pull them up, but Garey said that wouldn’t work.  Instead, he fired up the backhoe and marched it into the front yard, where he hooked a log chain to the base of the shrubs and pulled, then dug them out of the ground.  The shaking, growling and belching of black smoke that was the backhoe at work thrilled our granddaughter, Sabria, who laughed and clapped her hands.  Her laughter caused Garey to laugh—he would have also clapped his hands if they weren’t busy working levers—and he revved up the machine to an even louder pitch.
    We put the new shrubs into the holes, and while Garey and Sabria raked dirt and rock around them, I took a handsaw to the dead branches coming out of my older shrubs.  Garey watched me struggle for a bit then decided to switch jobs with me.  After a few minutes, he walked down to his shop and returned with a chainsaw—I guess the handsaw wasn’t loud enough—and began trimming away.  Have you ever seen hedges trimmed with a chainsaw?  You might want to take a look at mine before you go that route.
    I moved a few yards away from the area to avoid carbon monoxide poisoning and the noise.  I’ve noticed that men equate power with noise level, hence inventions like the chainsaw, monster trucks, and wrestling on TV.
    When we finished with the shrubs, I told Garey I needed the barn ladder propped against the house, because I plan on hanging Christmas lights next week.
“Just remember,” he warned, “the new shrubs are a lot smaller than the old shrubs and they won’t be as cushy.”  (You fall off the roof one time while hanging Christmas lights and they never let you forget it.)
After we positioned the ladder against the house, I grabbed my loppers and started up the ladder.
“What are you doing,” Garey asked.
“I’m going to trim those over-hanging branches,” I said.
“Let me get the chainsaw,” he said.
“There is no way I’m letting you on this roof with a chainsaw,” I said, as I hurried up the ladder.
I remembered the nerve-racking experience that put me behind the controls of the backhoe, and Garey in the bucket with a chainsaw, trimming the splintered branches of my willow tree after the ice storm of 09.  He made it out of that situation unscathed, and I was not about to test fate a second time with a running chainsaw and mid-air.
I lopped off the over-hanging branches and climbed down off the roof just in time to see my daughter and granddaughter leave for a Halloween party.  Garey said he needed to go also to check on a friend who was having trouble getting around.
Once again, it was just me and peace and quiet.  I evened up the rock around the new shrubs then trimmed my crepe myrtle for the winter.  When I finished, I decided to fix myself a cup of coffee and a pastry to have outside on my swing under the maple tree.  As I stirred my coffee, I thought I heard the unmistakable sound of a leaf blower.  I looked out my kitchen window and there was Garey, who had indeed returned and was blowing leaves into a pile to be burned later.
Ah, the wonderful sounds of noise and nature!  They go together like oil and water, democrats and republicans, cardinals and wildcats.