If you read my last blog post, which I did for Skywatch Friday, you'll know we have some very wild winds here on the southern Alberta prairie. Add some serious wet to the windstorms and I find myself in considerable pain.
You might also remember I had to call an arborist to look at our huge prairie poplars which tower over our little hobbit house.
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| Richard Schear photo |
Now, for Lady Fi's memorable meme, Our World Tuesday, I continue the saga...
Not only did last Thursday's storm terrify our darlin' little Bonnie-Belinda dog (pictured above, on a clear day) it also continued, and brought more rain than wind for five days.
I spoke to the arborist today and he says we'll have to wait for the soft ground to dry up because his equipment is huge and very heavy.
The photo below is not of our tree, but it shows how tall the prairie trees can get if left on their own. With a lift truck and skilled operators, almost any tree can be trimmed or removed, as shown below.
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| Rite Industries photo |
Below is a lift truck with a wood-chipper behind.
Branches are fed into it, and become wood chips in no time at all!
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| Rite Industries photo |
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| Rite Industries photo |
We won't require the big yellow piece of equipment above, but I find stump-grinders fascinating!
Thus I look forward to next Tuesday, when we might (weather permitting) get started on the trimming process.
I hope the noise and (to her) confusion won't scare Bonnie.
Although I am easily frightened now, at one time in my life (long ago and far away) I learned, along with my brother Clint, how to cut down trees — the skinny jack-pines of BC's Okanagan Valley where we grew up.
Dad also taught us how to trim off the branches (even skinnier) and cut the branchless trunk up into sections that would fit in our pot-bellied stove, to keep the family warm in winter. (Electrical service hadn't quite caught up to our location yet, but don't let me get sidetracked into the story of priming the pump, or whitewashing the outhouse, because I don't have photos.)
It was the early 1960s. Dad and Mom had decided we were getting soft living in downtown Kelowna, BC (it was a small city at that time) so they bought six acres on the back side of Knox Mountain and had us help build a house on our property's one flat spot. There, the mountain was rocky, but weather had eroded the rock into a smooth surface which provided a perfect place for our house.
Please don't get me started on more. As an old TV show used to say "there are a million stories"...!
6 comments:
Wow - what a childhood you must have had! Fascinating.
Well, just start at the beginning with those stories and don't stop until you come to the end.
I'd like to hear the rest of those stories! I love reading memoirs about how people grew up an it sounds like you have the start of a great one. Your parents really believed in tough love! Loved this Chapter I -- keep it up.
I like watching big equipment and people working (I love work, I could watch it all day )).... but I seriously do admire the skill and muscle that these jobs require.
Hope no more scary winds to frighten sweet Bonnie -- and hope your ground dries out soon.
Sounds like great stories to hear. - Margy
Hello, Kay! sounds like you had a beautiful place to grow up. Six acres on the mountain sounds lovely. Happy Friday, enjoy your weekend!
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