Trees and Magic

Ole rope-climbing a tree

 

One of those rotten windy storms we had during the cold months broke a bunch of big branches, bent some poplars and birches in half, crashed some of my lilac branches, and generally made a godawful mess of too many of the trees in and around my back and front forty. If you live here, you know: you all had the same problem, and the road crews have been wicked busy this spring cutting down some of the damage that threatens to wind up in the road or make it hard to plow next winter – will it be next winter when it snows next? Hard to tell at the moment…

At any rate, it finally got through our thick skulls that maybe some of those big branches overhanging the Husband’s studio roof should be removed, and much as he’d like to be 29-agin, he realized that he and his relatively little chain saw weren’t up to the job of cleaning up all the mess that storm left us with. Or climbing the trees that needed to have high-up branches lopped off.

Enter Ole Oisin. 

I love watching someone do something with finesse that otherwise would be very difficult do, and doing it seemingly effortlessly. And this was one of those times when I got to watch something I’d never seen done, up close, performed by someone who makes it look not only simple, but fun. And he let me watch. And he didn’t hit me on the head with anything he cut off. And he could keep up a conversation while he was climbing a tree.

“Climbing a tree” when Ole does it is completely unlike anything I’ve ever done, even when I was young and climbed trees. When Ole does it, it’s reminiscent of watching someone climb a vertical rock cliff. There’s a harness involved, and ropes, and he goes up with his chainsaw and a wicked fine Japanese-made saw-that-looks-like-a-sword attached to the rest of his gear, and somehow or other he takes a step on a rope that’s hanging in the air and by the end of the step he’s up higher than he was, without ever touching the tree in the process. Somehow. And to start it all, he first has to toss the rope up and over the branch he wants it to go over.

“How do you get it to go over the right branch?” I asked him. Just to note, he’s tossing it quite a way up a pretty tall tree with a  lot of branches. 

“You have to see it,” he explained. “If you see it, it goes where you want it to.”

“So, it’s magic?” I asked.

“Something like that,” Ole said. Or something like that.

I was fascinated.

Magic Up High

Somehow or other, in a few minutes Ole was up where he wanted to be, and long branches that had been hanging over the studio roof were coming down. With precision – by which I mean, where they were easily reached by the clean-up crew, who, in this case, was the Husband. Not in the driveway; not in the pond; not on top of the roof; and not where it made it impossible for Ole to come back down the tree, all of which would have happened if anyone else I know with a chainsaw had been doing the cutting. If they were able to get up the tree first. And not once did he yell “TIMBER!!”

In one day, Ole rounded the front and back forties, leaving a bunch of felled trees for the cleanup crew to turn into firewood and wood chips to mulch around the apple tree. He took down small stuff, and tall stuff, broken stuff, and wounded stuff; he even kindly cut the broken lilac branches that were too high up for me to reach. And cut off the branches from the whole downed trees so the cleanup crew could more easily do his job.

By evening, Ole was gone, and part of our field was restored to its original boundaries, the broken and wounded and leaning trees were down, the snapped and hanging branches were on the ground. There’s enough clean-up to keep the Husband entertained for many weeks, and watching Ole also inspired him to clear out some brushy stuff besides. He tells me he’s already cut up enough big wood to make more than a cord and a half towards our winter heat, and there’s still plenty waiting for him.

Out on a Limb

 

“I’m not sure what to do with the branches,” the Husband said. “They’re in the way of mowing the  lawn, but Ole said to let them lie until the leaves dry up, they’d be easier to deal with then.”

“I’m sure that was good advice,” I replied.

“Yeah, but,” said the Husband. “I’m not sure how –“

“You have to see it,” I interrupted. “If you see it, it’ll go the way you want it to.”

Thank you, Ole!

Ole Oisin and his magic and his wicked fine Japanese-made saw-like sword, ropes, and other gear can be reached at: Out on a Limb Tree Care LLC, oleoisin@gmail.com.

For the blog: herondragonwrites.blogspot.com

29 May 2019