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Thursday, 9. April 2015
Timber!
ell, 17:17h
I believe I know why James T. Kirk likes freeclimbing so much, because I've found that I actually pretty much like it myself. Given, I don't need a sleek rock wall for it, I prefer trees. And that is somethig my mum doesn't understand, for she allways tries to make me use a ladder when, for example, I go picking cherries. But what she doesn't seem to comprehend: A ladder can fall, trees usually don't.
However my mum seems to be a little fond of climbing herself, when once a year (or so) she comes up with the idea of either keeping the ivy growing up our housfront from covering our windows or cutting back one of our trees. The first usually results in a lot of sneezing for all involved (ivy is after all a medical plant used against cold), and the second in cutting off my climbing routes on one of the three climbable trees in our garden.
This has caused me to continually find another way onto the walnut tree when I was little, and also because of this I most likely won't be able to pick any cherries this year, for since her last cutting attack the lowest branches are hanging higher than I am tall. But today our subject of interest was the apple tree.
Other than the two afore mentioned subjects, which are growing further back in the garden, the apple tree is near the street, at the corner our yard forms with this just-wide-enough-for-one-car piece of pavement. It was once surrounded by a hazel and a thorn-bush, although both of those had in the last years grown tall enough to earn the title "tree" themselves. As they had not only grown tall, but also wide and considerably far into the street, my mum cut down both of them radically and so the apple tree is for now the only thing remaining in the gap between the corner and the other shrubbery, starting with a pretty large elder bush (tree?) a little further up the street.
And today we cut the apple tree, before it got too large to cut back, too. That is, my mum cut it, and I was holding the ladder, trying not to get hit by anything that might fall down and fixing her tools, such as putting the chain back on her chainsaw-on-a-stick-thing which I secretly by now have nicknamed her staff-weapon.
The only thing that is different today is that now, because we have cut back the tree, I can, for the first time ever, really climb on our apple tree. Before I had always either been to small to get onto the first branches or grown so tall that once I had gotten up there, I constantly had to watch out not to bump my head. And tell me, what better place is there to read a book on a sunny day than in the top of a tree?
However my mum seems to be a little fond of climbing herself, when once a year (or so) she comes up with the idea of either keeping the ivy growing up our housfront from covering our windows or cutting back one of our trees. The first usually results in a lot of sneezing for all involved (ivy is after all a medical plant used against cold), and the second in cutting off my climbing routes on one of the three climbable trees in our garden.
This has caused me to continually find another way onto the walnut tree when I was little, and also because of this I most likely won't be able to pick any cherries this year, for since her last cutting attack the lowest branches are hanging higher than I am tall. But today our subject of interest was the apple tree.
Other than the two afore mentioned subjects, which are growing further back in the garden, the apple tree is near the street, at the corner our yard forms with this just-wide-enough-for-one-car piece of pavement. It was once surrounded by a hazel and a thorn-bush, although both of those had in the last years grown tall enough to earn the title "tree" themselves. As they had not only grown tall, but also wide and considerably far into the street, my mum cut down both of them radically and so the apple tree is for now the only thing remaining in the gap between the corner and the other shrubbery, starting with a pretty large elder bush (tree?) a little further up the street.
And today we cut the apple tree, before it got too large to cut back, too. That is, my mum cut it, and I was holding the ladder, trying not to get hit by anything that might fall down and fixing her tools, such as putting the chain back on her chainsaw-on-a-stick-thing which I secretly by now have nicknamed her staff-weapon.
The only thing that is different today is that now, because we have cut back the tree, I can, for the first time ever, really climb on our apple tree. Before I had always either been to small to get onto the first branches or grown so tall that once I had gotten up there, I constantly had to watch out not to bump my head. And tell me, what better place is there to read a book on a sunny day than in the top of a tree?
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