We've been working so hard on renovating houses for the past year, but in the back of our minds, the forest calls to us. We've walked up there a few times, talked in vague terms about the plans we have, but done nothing to speak of. Until now. Kim and Oliver and Liam have moved into the Stanley Street as of three days ago and we fully intend to do nothing that involves paint brushes, hammers, saws or anything else of that nature for at least a couple weeks so now the time is right to work up in the woods in the grand tradition of Paul Bunyan and Babe, the blue ox. Paul was big and young and he could handle an axe all day long without tiring. But we are old and little and Ambra would never pull a log. So instead, we will have a chain saw and a tractor and a bush hog and we will not work all day long, only until we are pooped or bored, whichever comes first.
Yesterday, Don went up with the tractor and the bush hog in the morning while I did gardening. Every so often, I would hear the sound of branches crashing and snapping, or a dreadful grinding, roar. But my phone didn't ring with Don on the other end, screaming for me to get help and I puttered around the yard. It was quiet with no baby Liam at the living room window, calling out to me for attention, almost a little weird. I think that I had gotten kind of used to them being here. After all, it's been almost three months.
Today, we took the chain saw up and in the morning, cut up the small trees that had to be pushed out of the way, picked up branches for chipping later and just had the grandest time. By lunchtime, we were pooped so back to the house. A bite to eat and then time to relax for a bit but the air was still cool and the rain had not begun yet as promised by the weatherman, so revived by a coffee and a piece of pie, we decided to go back up to the woods. This time we took the tractor and the brush hog with the plan of extending the trail instead of continuing the cleanup on the first one. You know what they say, "a change is as good as a rest".
There is a fern glen that at the right time of year is quite nice, shaded and quiet. I've always liked it, although going there before August is not advisable because it is also the nicest place for mosquitoes to raise their families. But now we decided to extend the trail through it. First one tree down, then branches cleaned off a big old fir, now time to stop and take stock of what the next move might be. While we were standing there, from the corner of my eye I caught a movement. It was slow, and seemed to float gently through the air, but because it was so small and so erratic, it was hard to tell what it was. I figured that it was possibly a fat, lazy June bug and as both Don and I watched it's wobbly progress, it hovered for a moment over a twig and then softly came to rest, hardly moving the twig so light was its landing. A fat, tiny baby hummingbird, possibly trying out his first long distance flight. Oh my gosh it was adorable! He rested for a few brief moments and then the little cutie launched himself off into the woods again. The baby "hummer" was the highlight of the day for me and while I will always enjoy our trail and remember the fun we had clearing it, the little bird adds just the right amount of sparkle to the memory.
