With a touch of luck and a bit of prayer
two years ago on a mild summer day,
and with way more than a bit of care,
I was able to put this big dead elm on the ground
without getting hurt or ruining my saw chain.
With it being nearly three feet thick at the base
and over fifty feet tall,
I cut out a twenty pound wedge
that helped me place it right near the target spot.
Aside from the fear of it falling
into a smaller oak or walnut and ruining them,
I knew there was an old woven-wire fence buried in its heart.
I'd found part of an old steel t-post
in another old elm planted along the same line
and was afraid I might find another in this one.
Doesn't take much of a touch against old steel like that
to flatten the edges of curved teeth and put in deep nicks
that a file can't fix.
Although I did clip a strand or two of old wire,
the chain still spit out chips instead of powder,
and I was able to cut through on parallel paths
from front and back and took a fair amount of satisfaction
in seeing how the weight of the tree as it leaned
split and splintered the little bit left
right along the line of the fence that I had barely missed.
I set the Stihl on the ground,
stepped up and stood for a moment or two
on the old stump,
taking good measure of the view
of a winter's worth of firewood
that would be ready to burn
almost as soon as it was split.
Throughout the season as I emptied the ash tray
stored beneath the heavy grate of the wood stove,
I found bits and pieces of old fence wire.
And gave thanks for heat and safety,
for comfort and wellbeing,
and the care that often comes
from a touch of luck and a bit of prayer.
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