Sometimes you have to cut trees down

I prefer my trees leafy and fragrant, but I have to say there's a rush in chopping one down.  Or chainsawing one down, to be more exact.  I'd never used a chainsaw before, but it turns out we need a fourth parking spot, and the only place we could possibly squeeze one in was occupied by one of our friends of the deciduous variety.

I knew Jim had plans for cutting down the tree, but I wasn't sure when he was planning on doing it.  I was working behind the counter and the door was slightly ajar because it was one of those nice days we had earlier in the week; Jim didn't come in or say hello or anything, but I quickly realized he was around.  You see, when Jim is around, things start moving.  Ceilings get patched.  Windows spontaneously wash themselves and hammers spring up and drive nails in perfectly ordered lines - and Jim doesn't even take a cup of coffee before getting started.

So anyways, I knew Jim was around because, after the windows and hammers and all that did their thing, Duke, his pug, ran in the door just as this huge engine roar came from the back lot.  I came outside and Jim - who looks and acts like he's about 27 but is really a touch over 80 (I still want to see a birth certificate) - was about 6 feet up a ladder, sawing at a precise downward angle into the tree.  Gena was standing below with a slightly terrified look while maintaining her omnipresent smile.

Anyways, we chopped that baby down and Jim even let me use a chainsaw for the first time.  As a side note, I'd never truly understood the magnetic attraction between men and machinery until that day.  At one point, I looked up and there were three or four men just standing in the parking lot watching me cut the trunk into firewood.  One had apparently stopped mid stride, his right foot just an inch off the ground. 

But moving on, Gena and Clyde helped me load the branches into a truck, and that brings me to my real point.  We've got a huge project on our hands here, but as the Haitian proverb says, "Many hands lighten the load."  Jim, Clyde, and Gena, among others, each have about ten hands themselves, so I think we're going to be okay.  But, any of you out there that might read this and be in possession of a pair of hands yourselves (or legs, or even just a truck or check book) could have a huge impact with just a little effort.  And if you're short of inspiration just come talk to Jim or Jo or plop down a lawn chair in our yard and watch them go to work.