God... I'm old

My days off are Wednesday-Thursday... and I needed to get some serious yard work done today because it has rained all week and things are backed up.  So, I ran the mower, did some weed-whacking, took a break to drive children all over God's creation, made dinner, then got to trimming some of my trees.

That's when I hit the wall.

My Bund brothers will recall a line of rather large pines that I have on the edge of my property, facing the north (the downhill side of my yard) and edging my neighbor Judy's yard.  They are probably 30' tall, there are nine in all and they run in a straight east-west line for about 200'.  The lower branches are so thick and heavy that I can't mow around them, and I know my neighbor Judy can't either.  I've made some half-assed attempts to trim them up, but there is no solution that will work other than whacking the lowest branches completely off to a height of about 5'.

Now, these trees are at least 300' from the house... and I have no extension cord that long.  I own no chainsaw (left mine with a friend in MS after the storm).  So, its limb saws for me.  Two hours later, two trees are done, there is a five foot high pile of branches in the yard, and I am gasping for breath, drenched in sweat and covered head-to-toe in pine sap and needles.  Now that two trees are done, the other seven simply look WORSE then ever, so I'll have to finish the job tomorrow as best I can, rain or shine.

Time was, I did something exactly like this for my grandfather at his place in Minnesota during a summer visit, and I'm not even sure I broke a sweat.  Hand sawed the limbs, dragged them across the road and made a pile the size of a large truck for all the trees along his property line... and all with the energy and vigor of a teenage boy's build.

Why am I recalling that earlier job of trimming my grandfather's trees so vividly?  Is it me longing for my lost and misspent youth?  Am I realizing that I am over 40, overweight, and over due to quit smoking?

Nope.

I am recalling that job in 1985 because I'm using the EXACT same tools now that I used then... courtesy of Ray H. Foster and his meticulous care of all his hand tools.

Thank you, Grandpa.