Yesterday, while working in the Deep Dark Corner of My Basement (aka my office), I heard the distinctive sounds of saws and a mulcher.
OH, NO!
I had flashbacks to the demolition of my neighbor's shade tree. I ran (okay, stumbled over the dog) upstairs to make sure the tools of destruction were not being wielded against MY shade tree.
They weren't. *cue sigh of relief*
They were being used to euthanize my dying tree, the one that's been infected with an insidious fungus for years, the one the HOA had refused to do anything about...until now.
Watching the tree being turned into splinters conjured a mix of feelings: Relief that the tree was being dealt with. Sadness that the tree had died. Disappointment at the loss of the tree, which had served as nesting ground every spring for a family of robins. (Where will I get my baby bird fix now?)
Then disbelief as I watched the landscaper try to fill in this tree-less hole using a snow plow. Really? That big plow for that little hole? It was a disaster.
See that incline? The plow couldn't manage it. So the landscaper kept getting out of the cab to kick dirt into the plow and then getting back into the cab to try to maneuver the plow to dump the dirt...well, you get the idea. And no, it never quite worked.
Nonetheless, he kept trying the same thing over and over again, always with the same result. (What was that definition of insanity again?) I give him an A for perseverance.
After a while, I couldn't take it anymore. At the rate he was going, that guy was going to be there all night, running in a maze of his own making.
I offered him my shovel.
Presto! The right tool for the right job, and that hole was filled in and smoothed over in a matter of minutes.
Amazing how that works, isn't it?
OH, NO!
I had flashbacks to the demolition of my neighbor's shade tree. I ran (okay, stumbled over the dog) upstairs to make sure the tools of destruction were not being wielded against MY shade tree.
They weren't. *cue sigh of relief*
They were being used to euthanize my dying tree, the one that's been infected with an insidious fungus for years, the one the HOA had refused to do anything about...until now.
Watching the tree being turned into splinters conjured a mix of feelings: Relief that the tree was being dealt with. Sadness that the tree had died. Disappointment at the loss of the tree, which had served as nesting ground every spring for a family of robins. (Where will I get my baby bird fix now?)
Then disbelief as I watched the landscaper try to fill in this tree-less hole using a snow plow. Really? That big plow for that little hole? It was a disaster.
See that incline? The plow couldn't manage it. So the landscaper kept getting out of the cab to kick dirt into the plow and then getting back into the cab to try to maneuver the plow to dump the dirt...well, you get the idea. And no, it never quite worked.
Nonetheless, he kept trying the same thing over and over again, always with the same result. (What was that definition of insanity again?) I give him an A for perseverance.
After a while, I couldn't take it anymore. At the rate he was going, that guy was going to be there all night, running in a maze of his own making.
I offered him my shovel.
Presto! The right tool for the right job, and that hole was filled in and smoothed over in a matter of minutes.
Amazing how that works, isn't it?