Saturday dad and I cut down one of his Spruce trees. He had a list of what we needed to haul to the tree. All the tools we could possibly need were on the list. After assembling the tools, and loading them into the truck, we drove to the tree.
Our job was to cut the tree and have it fall in an area dad had decided was best. We began by cutting the limbs off of one side of the tree. Since it leaned toward the East, and we wanted it to fall mostly to the West, the eastern limbs were the ones removed. During the process of cutting limbs off, dad wanted to take a load away. This was so that we wouldn't be walking and tripping over them. We loaded as many limbs onto the pickup truck as we could. They were heavy, full of moisture, and long. When it seemed as if the load would fall from the truck if we added another limb, we drove to the brush pile to unload them. Back to the tree we drove.
Having cut and cleared enough limbs, so that we could set our ladder against the trunk, we climbed to fasten a chain around the tree. I estimate our chain was nearly half of the distance from the ground to the top of the tree. A second chain was then fastened to the end of the first. Finally, a towing strap was added to the end of our second chain and fastened to the hook on the front of the pickup truck. This arrangement of chains and strap allowed the truck to be safely away while it put tension on our tree.
Dad announced that I could, "...go ahead and cut your notch." Then he climbed into the truck and proceeded to tension our chain/strap arrangement. A few pulls started the chain saw and I estimated where the cut should be to direction the fall. Carefully cutting the angled notch and knocking out the wedge shapped piece of wood from the opening, I moved around to the other side of the tree. Quickly the saw's sharp chain teeth pulled pieces of wood from the trunk. Just when I was thinking about stopping my saw to get a wedge, the cut began to open up. Simultaneously dad backed the truck away from the tree and I increased my cutting speed. Gently the old tree fell to within inches of where we had planned.
The process from this point on was steady. First cut limbs from the tree. Load the limbs onto the pickup truck. Drive to the pile and unload the limbs. We repeated this proceedure until I'm sure dad was tired of just climbing in and out of the truck. Near the top I cut a Christmas tree sized piece from the trunk of our tree. Clearing the last of the limbs, we began to saw the trunk into firewood sized chunks. During a pause to rest I counted the annual rings. Our tree was at least thirty seven years old. Dad's comment was, "You can grow a tree in a life time."
Four hours was all it took for us to process nearly fourty years of energy and nutriant gathering by a tree. The old Blue Spruce had stood in mom and dad's yard for most of the life of my oldest son. it was a beautiful tree and many eyes enjoyed it. We discovered two Robin nests in the branches. I wondered how many birds lives had been nourished sheltering in the life of this tree? What winds had it heard, and storms endured? I pictured the snow from tens of winters on the tree's branches. How many hundreds or thousands of pounds of snow had our spruce held? And I imagined hot summer days that were just a little cooler because of the shade and energy absorbtion of the tree. Thousands of gallons of water had showered the branches and flowed through the vessels inside.
Now the tree will serve as a home for rabbits and mice as a brush pile. Birds may still alight in branches devoid of needles. Micro organisms, fungus, and bacteria will resolutly consume the accumulated nutrients. It will slowly diminish in size and eventually become dirt.
I wonder too about my role in the process. How soon will I continue the cycle, leaving my life behind?
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