Tree Time
Part of my Sumac collapsed a victim of gravity. Fell on the fence. I chopped it up and took it to the burn pile. No worries. There’s plenty of tree left. It’s a multi-limbed affair, all sprouting from the base. I guess if I really wanted it to look like a tree, I should have pruned it better. Oh, well. Live and learn. Actually, I think I’ll pass on that lesson. It’s a big shrub. I’ll leave it at that.
Besides, it grows at a stupendous rate and puts off lots of offspring. I may even come to regret letting it propagate. But it’s pleasant to look at and the berries feed the birds. So, I guess while breathe remains and I have the energy to tend it, I’ll do so. It could be worse, lots worse. Take beggar’s tick. I’ve been fighting that pest for years. I seem to be winning in the front yard but losing in the back. Sometimes I just want to cut everything down and leave it at that.
Tomorrow, however, I leave the sumac behind and head for the river. At the moment, my front room looks like the staging ground for a military campaign. Except, no guns. Just gear, some of it new. Tent and cot chief among them, taking up less space than their predecessors. I’m into comfort camping. I’d never go so far as to buy a travel trailer with AC and a toilet, but a nice tent and a cot are just a bow to old age and totally appropriate. Besides, I do like stepping out of a tent into the cool morning air to be greeted with the smell of wood smoke.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale