When I first saw this one, I decided it was a job for Paul to do. He's a mean hand with a tree saw, whether the long or short handled one. I do fine on small clippers or larger loppers, but the saws are hell on my shoulders. I told Paul when he got home from work that July day where it was, roughly, and that removing it, before it decided to warp our chain link fence as it grew right next to it, was going to be his job.
He immediately forgot about it.
I decided to do some of the last yard chores in these last days before heading back south. That tree was still there, still healthy, still growing. Still offensive. A box elder, it's one of the weediest of the maple family, though that family does have lots of varieties vying for that distinction, much as I love them. This one actually had two trunks, the original, fat one on our side of the fence, and a twiggy one coming up from the bottom knuckle on the other side. Both would have to be dealt with. It appeared I was going to have to be the one to do it, not only because it was getting so late, but because Paul's recovery from an abscess infection resulting in a fever and days of work lost was still keeping him from putting in a full day on his job. I'm still hoping to count on him to mow the back yard for our farewell-to-Minnesota bonfire. Little kids will be there. Geezers with unsteady footing on an uneven yard will be there. The lawn needs its second mowing of the year! Especially since we had about an inch of rain yesterday.
This morning I donned my outside duds, grabbed two saws, one set of loppers, and a bit of brush killer to paint the remaining stump(s) with once the job was done.
There were challenges. Once I set the equipment down I needed a chair for my base of operations. If I was going to do this thing, I was going to do it comfortably, and save all the work for my upper body. Our resin lawn chairs have skinny legs. Remember that 1" of rain yesterday? Every five minutes those legs sank into our basically still clay soil and had to be pulled up and repositioned. There are some wild divots back along that fence area.
The first saw is pretty great. It has a curved blade, curved inward on the toothed side, and a very long handle. In previous use I'd come to appreciate the teeth faced only in the "pull" direction, so I could push it back through the trees or branches easily for the next big stroke. My muscles work better in pull than push mode. I'd gotten about a third of the way through this lower trunk when it started leaning to close the cut and trap the blade. The part I was cutting through was over 2 1/2" diameter, just above the knuckle on the ground. It was low enough and close to the fence enough that my saw angle had to be chosen very carefully, not only to avoid trying to cut through the clay but to also avoid running into the chain link. It also had to be nearly parallel to the fence. Knuckle bumping time. But even as big as this trunk was in terms of how little could be cut at any time when such care had to be taken, it was flexible enough to stop all progress as it leaned away from the fence as that increasing sliver of trunk was removed.
I needed assistance. It wasn't going to be human. Steve was sleeping, and I wouldn't think of trying to get him out in the back yard for anything less than a bonfire with his favorite people in attendance. Paul had gone to work. I did try changing my position into one more facing the tree so I could cut sideways (stupid!) and lean my forehead against the trunk to push it back towards the fence. Pointless as that was, it gave me the idea I needed.
Tie the tree to the top of the fence! Of course I had no idea where to find something to tie it with in the house or the storage shed. If I were to have the energy to take out this tree, and by this time I decided to take out its small offshoot as well, despite which side of the fence it was on, I wasn't going to spend any of it on hunting up a rope or something. But... I had shoelaces! Newish ones, nice and strong, in newish shoes. Since I wasn't going to be walking all over until the job was done, having one shoe sloppily covering my foot wasn't going to be an issue. Relacing it was going to be an issue later, but nevermind. (Design flaws in this model shoe.)
The lace wrapped twice around the trunk and the top fence rail, and pulled tight, it had enough length to tie it off, in a shoelace bow of course. Why not? With the tree forced erect, I recommenced sawing. I had to switch saws back and forth because by then each had different strengths for the job. Intermittently I tried the loppers to see what cutting could be done that way, though most of that effort went into the frivolously fruitless task of building my arm muscles. So, back to alternating the saws. I was at a point now where the little saw tip could go inside one of the holes in the chain link, with its cut at a different angle now going through a smaller chunk of trunk, making it easier on me. Progress was again visible in accumulating sawdust.
Switch and saw, switch again and saw, try the loppers. At some point I was positive they would finally come in handy. Just because it hadn't happened yet.... Each switch meant relocating the chair again, a whole other kind of entertainment.
I finally noticed the back of the tree had a section splitting vertically up from the cut trunk. No way I could attack it with any of the tools because it still was next to the fence, but it gave me another idea. Lose the shoestring. Not loosen it, lose it, as in put it back in my shoe, and knock the tree over to the ground along the fence. Once all of that was accomplished, the loppers did indeed come handy, first in cutting all the branches off the trunk so it would be lighter and more manageably close to the fence and ground, and then slip down between fence and trunk to cut through the splitting piece. Just a tiny bit more sawing and It! Was! Loose!
I finally was able to use the loppers one final time, through the fence and around the small trunk. A quick thought, however, before the final cut. I didn't want that to fall into the neighbor's yard. They might not only notice it and decide to be annoyed about not having a choice in what happened to "their" tree despite it never doing anything besides destroying the fence, but they might also simply be annoyed about having to pick it up off the ground. So before that last squeeze for the cut, I stood up, took the top of that smaller tree in my teeth to hold it, and cut. Then dropping the loppers, a free hand reached over the fence and hauled the last evidence of the tree over to our side to add to growing brush piles.
The brush killer was slathered twice over every new cut surface. With no rain expected for a couple days, it should be the last gasp for this box elder. Before putting my tools away for the season, in my elation at having completed a tricky job I went over to the dying apple trees that are supposed to be worked on this Sunday with much younger, able help with their chain saw. We promised them all the fresh apple wood they wanted to cut up and take back with them in exchange, besides our following family bonfire, of course. The trees have several large, very dead, very thoroughly angled and pokey branches around their lower end. These are the kind of branches that threaten eyes and push a sane person well away from the trunks which are a prime chain saw target. Those lower branches are very dead, several years dead in fact, and while dangerous are also fairly easy to saw through while the equipment is right there. It seemed the least I could do to open up a safe way to approach each tree, especially for somebody with a roaring chain saw in hand. They can cut the rest in a jiffy... now.
And yes, extra ibuprofin to allow sleep on a pair of misused shoulders was very appreciated tonight.
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