Off to the East

Off to the east, the sun was shining on the small set of cattle just across the fence line, the light there and the darkening setting in where I stood seeing them become the image of what the rancher sees as money growing on the plain and I saw as the image my father and his father would have seen as the cattlemen they both were for times during their lives.

It was the afternoon before the weather would change and bring back the winter we had not yet prepared well enough for. We were out cutting wood and clearing downed trees to open a pathway round the back pasture. The stand of old trees had taken down the fence holding those cattle and the neighbor had taken it on himself to clear the fence line, rebuild the barbed wire fencing and left me the fallen trees. They will be providing the heat for the rest of the winter for mine and another friend’s home. Cutting wood heats you 3 times, my dad used to say.

Cutting, stacking and finally burning it. So, part one had begun this afternoon, late in the day, so begun is a good description, since the morning will take us all back to it, cutting, sorting and taking it down the hillside, cross the slow-moving creek and up the other side, stopping time and again to pick up the wood that leaps off the back of the tractor. Along the way back, we stopped to collect seed pods and cockleburs so they don’t multiple in that field next year. The land where I live is magical and its surprises occur suddenly. Today it was the oyster mushrooms abundant on the downed tree trunk. I Naturalist confirmed the identity each time I shared the photos. I wanted immediately to call Meredith Garvin as my all-time favorite naturalist, but missed her all the more remembering none of us can call her anymore. Her death a loss for all of us.

Earlier in the afternoon, we worked as a team to again move two 30-foot-long downed pine trees the electric company’s tree contracting service had left blocking the driveway, to make gaining access to the carport a bit easier. The chain wrapped round the tree and connected to the jeep pulled one of the trees and the other we pushed with the Kubota. The sap on the ends of the trees still lingers looking much like the tree’s tears, having been cut so suddenly. I still mourn that trees standing so tall and still healthy were taken down when the Pine Bark Beetle would be hard at work in the next few years anyway. These had actually been cut down in the prime of their lives.  

When looking out at them, I can see them as “dead soldiers”, which was a term my dad used to describe empty beer cans sewn around when he saw them along a foot path. A question never asked: did you see real humans in the war scattered like that? Maybe you too, also had a list of questions you knew never to ask your parents but long to have known the answers.

All of the bird feeders will be filled before this blast of cold hits, the soup will be simmering and the slowed days of true winter will be providing time for reflecting on the past and turning onto plans for the year ahead.

A year ago, I added electric heat pumps, having to upgrade when my 40-year-old wall furnaces failed to heat and began to actively try to asphyxiate us. The new system is a real upgrade for me, but remembering the past, the two ice storms we all suffered through, the wood we store is the backup plan for heat. Where I live at the end of the road and at the edge of the prairie, there are woods with trees that can provide not only shade, nuts and fruits, but also their fallen branches and limbs for heat. I like to say, if we are cold, it is because we are stupid and lazy. 

Not being lazy today.

Respectfully Submitted ~ Rebecca Jim