In the front yard there are three big white pines, older than anything in the neighborhood except the stones. Magnificent trees that toss their heads in the wind like the spirited black horses of a troika. It's hard to know what to do, tall dark trees on the south side of the house, an unfortunate location, blocking the winter sun. Dark and damp. Moss grows on the roof, the porch timbers rot and surely the roots have reached the old bluestone foundation. At night, in the wind, a tree could stumble and fall killing us in our beds. The needles fall year after year making an acid soil where no grass grows. We rake the fallen debris, nothng to be done, we stand around with sticks in our hands. Wonderful trees.
Louis Jenkins
Each year the row of poplar and pines along the property line have more dead limbs than the year before. During windstorms they fall out of the trees and it's become a chore to pick them all up before each mow. So, Daryl decided to pull them out with a chainsaw and a ladder. Living in the northwest means one cannot get away from the trees! but, neither would one want to.
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