Friday, December 14, 2012

Tree Trimmers - Baking Holiday Breads - Working on Kidney Memoir / Poem: The Last Silver Maple

Dyou believe this shit? Gun control? Never in America. Politicians are cowards. What better time than now to advocate for gun control?

Yes, yes, I know we say that after every mass murder.

I'm trying to find a Gun Control website where I can take action.

Here's two:

CeaseFire of Pennsylvania and the James Brady Foundation. Brady has made a remarkable recovery after a bullet entered his head during John Hinckley's assassination attempt on Reagan. He can now walk, after having been confined to a wheelchair, and can speak clearly.

Hopefully, Gabby Giffords will have a similar recovery.

Hobensack Landscape Service trimmed my silver maple tree in the backyard, one of only three remaining maples from when I moved in here in 1990.

What an adventure watching the limbs come down. If only my kids were little, we would've been outside cheering them on.

I was in my green Starbux apron making breads when they arrived.

This braided whole-wheat beauty is baking in the oven now. One for birfday boy, Scott; one for Nancy and Linda across the street and one for YOU! Send me an email.

I can barely eat any of my bread cuz it causes my sugar to spike and I don't want no diabetes complications. I love my little piggie-wiggies.

The next chapter Sarah assigned me in our two-person Kidney Memoir is my  Kidney-Healthy Diet to preserve kidney function while I was in the last stages of renal failure.

Man, it was tough! Well, lemme put it this way. I wanted to LIVE, so I had no problem sticking to the diet and that included a Mediterranean Cruise Sarah and I took.

Can you see me pat my new kidney, courtesy of Sarah Lynn?

Here's the maple as seen from my upstairs baffroom window. Reason I spell it 'baffroom' is b/c it's faster than the real way.

The bathroom itself has undergone a transformation.

These are my new lavendar-colored rugs. Originally they were white and looked as if beach towels were spread across the floor. Bot em at my new favorite store, Walmart.

Don't worry, little stores. I still shop at you too! I'm an equal justice shopper.

After making numerous phone calls I went to Walmart to buy RIT DYE to dye the rugs.

Previously, I had two rugs on the floor which had stuck fast to the tile. Scott scraped them off and the muscle-man continued to scrub the floor with detergent and water.

Arrival of Hobensack Landscape Company.
The tree-climber is Alfredo from Guatemala. Doesn't speak English.
Alfredo is secured by ropes to another part of the tree.
Here's the branch cruncher. Pretty loud. They had the street secured off. They know what they're doing. I love efficiency, don't you?
This is the finished tree. Gone is the deadwood. $280. Jason Hobensack told me that there were no squirrels in the "back-up" nest on my tree. Their main nest, he said, is probly in the lil woods behind my house. Only one squirrel lives in a nest at a time, he said. Gosh, they don't have anyone to cuddle with.

Lifespan of a silver maple is 40-60 years, he said. Mine can last another 15 to 20, now that she's trimmed.

It's a little nervewracking watching Alfredo up there. I was kneading my bread but watching out the window since it was like an exciting show on the TV.



When I moved in
twenty-two years ago
you were one of three:
three silver maple sisters
How can I, a woman,
"own" a tree, but that’s what we
call it here in America

You chose to grow in the backyard
to harbor woodpeckers who kept you
free of disease
and oh, those leaves of yours I watch
from every back window in my house

Your two sisters passed before you
Asplundh took them down
Phyllis, so upset, I promised I’d plant trees
in Israel
but lied,
what if they planted cypress
in the Gaza Strip?

I looked to your hardiness and lack of judgment
for solace

through my manias and depressions

You gave!
O generous tree of my backyard

The November hurricane
shook you
- "Attempted rape!" I cried
though no one was listening
Your branches fell
with a thud.

I must save you
Jason and his men –
I almost said Jesus and his men –
came out for the surgery

“It’ll survive,” he said, and sent five of his best
to the backyard
moving the birdbath to the deck
while Alfredo from Guatemala – “the
place of many trees” – climbed aboard the way
I did, building a treehouse back in childhood

I watched the drama from my kitchen window.
Saw they never left the climber alone
as he sliced and buzzed with his electric saw
birds and mice scattering
my backyard is welcome to everyone

At noon I say "Hello, Sister Maple"
caress your trunk
so unlike my own
look up at your tall naked branches
daring the winds to topple you
as you soar over my little yellow house
Protect us both, I entreat
as we enter the unknown wilderness
of old age. 

No comments:

Post a Comment