Terrors

There's gold at the end of the rainbow (this from our deck), but the process of finding it can be chilling

My nephew was in a terrorist auto accident Saturday night, and he's been in a coma since then. (I call it a terrorist accident because he was driving at night on a small country road in Wisconsin when a pickup truck suddenly rounded the curve in his lane and ran into him. Terror. The driver of the pickup died.) I’m on my way to Minneapolis right now to be with him and my family.

On Wednesday, one of our “godsons” came by, to help cut some limbs off trees to better sculpt our garden and let more light in ... I went out with Josiah to the edge of our cliff, where a tree holding a cliff together is about to topple to the beach ... I asked him to cut the dead main tree so that the child could survive and continue to hold the cliff.

At the edge of the cliff was a ledge, and on the ledge was an alder tree, intertwined with the oldest-growth Indian Plum either of us had ever seen. And bound around with blackberry vines. And blackberry canes. And jungley growth.

He walked out on the gnarly tree. He cut the berry vines and honored the Indian Plum. He was suspended 55 feet above the beach. He was balancing on the Indian plum vines. His body had no hesitation. He was up to the task.

He took the chainsaw from me, and carried it out as he balanced on the horizontal "plank" of the tree so he could cut off the dead larger trunk and lighten the load for the roots.

He navigated the light, bouncy, woody stems of the Indian Plum as they wove making love around the plank of the alder tree. It seemed he -- and the tree -- were constantly one degree away from being 55 feet below, on the rocky beach. I was in awe of Josiah. He was Angel Boy / Earth Boy / Logger Boy. He was sawing up from under the nearly horizontal tree, first. His saw bound. "God-dammit!" he said from the edge of the precipice. There was smoke. He tried to vibrate it out. The whole diving board seemed to shake. He edged it out. I prayed.

As he started to cut from the top, "CRACK" -- "SHOT" -- the roots seemed to shake and a shot rang out that sounded like a gun. The tree plunged to the beach.

When he got back to solid ground, we hugged. My nephew had just been in a horrible accident, and I couldn't imagine another.

Now our cliff will likely stay intact for years longer, as a result of Josiah's arborial prowess.


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As often, I'm out on the edge of the cliff.