On Furniture and Felling

Oh my goodness.

I knew it had been a while since I had posted. I wish I had a convenient excuse--horrible accident with accompanying amnesia, just got rescued from a desert island with no broadband connection, spent two weeks with guru in Tibet. No can do.

Super cool news
Joan and I agree on something. This gets expensive.

On a much-needed and long-deferred trip to Away (this could have been anywhere and it would have been just fine, thank you, but in this case it was New Market, Maryland), we encountered a Mission style dining room table and chairs. We bought them. This is the first really nice furniture we've purchased in our married life. Who knows? In 2027 we may spring for a new sofa. We're going crazy with the cash, I tell you.

For years we have had a set of lovely Jacobean reproduction dining chairs. They have been professionally refinished, complete with new leather seats and backrests to replace the original hand-tooled leather and horse hair stuffing that was woefully past its prime. The carving on them is gorgeous. Despite their official status as "reproductions," they are antiques in their own right. Even by English standards. They are over 100 years old. The only downside is that they don't reflect our personality.

If you've met my spouse and you've met me, you'll probably agree that few things in this world could adequately represent both our personalities. Point taken. But when we saw the clean lines and solid craftsmanship of the table and chairs, we just went for it.

The bonus in this transaction is that the buyer had a line on a matching sideboard and china cabinet. Two china cabinets, in fact. Perfect. We bought those as well. The timing for such a purchase is rarely, if ever, optimal. But since we so seldom agree on something, we took the plunge.

One china cabinet and the sideboard were delivered a couple of days ago. I had a few friends in last night to help empty the dining room (table, chairs, and the unique German hunt board that some intrepid soul began refinishing with a sand blaster and ended refinishing with a paint brush. Now the piece looks like John Deere got into the furniture business. And how dare you?! It was NOT me. I would not have thought to repair my work with a few good coats of bright green paint. But now the seed is planted. I just need to get a sand blaster to create the opportunity to do so.

What a Nice Feller
This afternoon I am providing moral support to my in-laws. A tree at their house has had the ill grace to continue growing without moving further from the house. Now it is a potential hazard. It would have been a greater hazard, but my in-laws have had the common sense to prevent me getting anywhere near the tree with a chain saw. Or even a Buck knife. So this afternoon I will join them as we watch Robert the Tree Guy make the nasty ol' tree go away. There are some other branches that have a disturbing proximity to power lines and the roof of the house. These too will simply go away.

Finally, the Kentucky Coffee Bean tree (I know you're scratching your head, but I have nothing for you. That's what they call it, so that's what it is.) in the front yard is splitting. We're going to put a cable on it, pull it together, and hit it with a couple of lags. When we're done, this tree will give new meaning to "well and truly screwed." Great fun. And to think I could be working instead.

Later ...
Wow. What a difference. The sun is shining in on the sun porch. I have no idea what this area has been for the past few years--a shade porch, I suppose. Now there is light again.

The felling process was a little different from what I had in mind. I planned to lick my thumb, hold it up (just in case anybody was watching), then cut a chunk from the trunk and hope it went where I wanted it to go. Instead, Robert the Tree Guy donned a pair of climbing spikes and ascended the tree. His chain saw dangled from one side of his tool belt while his arbor saw dangled from the other. He cut off branches as he climbed. Then, tying off the trunk, he cut it through in 10-foot sections and let it fall while his crew slowed its descent. A nasty bit of Tug-of-War ensued, with my wagers going on the tree. Given the outcome, I am justified in not playing the ponies.

This well-considered method, based on years of experience, in no way resembled my approach. That's probably why a No. 2 Ticonderoga is about as close as I get to the tree business. Everything ended up in a nicely controlled pile at the base of the tree. The crew shoved most of it through a mammoth chipper. What was too big to chip was just the right size to haul. They loaded it into the scoop of a treaded Bobcat and put it into the bed of a small dump truck. It was a fine operation, made all the finer by my role as an observer.

Apparently, this glut of trivia is what happens when one fails to regularly blog. If you've gotten this far, I apologize for the ramble, but thanks for checking in.