Monday, July 29, 2013

Lumberjack Husband

Many years ago my mother, my aunt Eva, and my sister went berry-picking in the woods next to my grandmother's house. Norwegian woodland is special, quiet, serene, beautiful, and the home of large elks.

The story I was told is that they were startled by noises and feared that a large elk with a young one was near. Mother's are dangerous when they protect their babies. That's the case with elks also.

My mother and aunt ran around trying to find trees to climb when they see my sister hanging with one arm from a branch high up in the air. "Am I hanging high enough?" she yelled out.

We have often laughed, thinking about my sister hanging up there, wondering if she was safe, probably worried that the elk would reach her feet and nibble on them.

Last week the love of my life climbed an enormous pine tree to tie a rope high up on the trunk in order to pull and steer it in the right direction when he and his brother chopped the tree down. Like a monkey he made his way up the trunk, forgetting his age.

I counted the growth rings and made out that the tree had been there about 60 years. Imagine the things it had seen and witnessed. It started growing a few years after WWII.

Several more trees were cut down to bring more light and reclaim the lovely view. Cutting down trees can mean progress, beautification, and absolutely be necessary. To me it sometimes makes me sad.

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