July 23, 2014 at 2:10 p.m.
Will he be able to get some sleep (11/14/07)
Back in the Saddle
By By JACK RONALD-
The tree is down.
Now, maybe, I can get a good night's sleep.
I've written several times over the years in this space about the cabin my wife's family has in southern New Hampshire. My first visit there was nearly 40 years ago, when we were dating. And for most summers of our married life, we've spent at least part of our vacation time there.
It's a pretty rustic place. The only heat comes from a smoky fireplace and a wood stove in the kitchen. There is no insulation to speak of. Water service comes via a gravity-driven system of pipes from a spring higher up the hillside. Anyone looking for luxury should look somewhere else.
But it's a marvelous place, and it's become a huge part of who we are as a couple and as a family.
When our kids were little and having trouble getting to sleep, we used to tell them to think of "the cabin in the woods" and imagine they were there. It always worked.
And many's the time I've done the same thing.
Faced with the tensions and anxieties that spring from newspaper deadlines, worrying about the changing face of technology, mulling over issues of world peace, writing the next day's editorial or article in my head, I'd find myself focusing on "the cabin in the woods." And it always worked, just as it had for the kids.
Until lately.
The cabin sits on a pretty steep hillside that's thickly wooded. My guess is that the hill ranges between 45 and 60 degrees in terms of pitch. And some of the trees are so close to the cabin you can touch them.
A couple of years ago, concerns started to be raised by my wife's siblings about whether some of the trees close to the cabin should be taken down.
I was skeptical, but I don't get a vote. Cabin ownership is divided among the five brothers and sisters. All I can do is kibbitz from the sidelines. Which, of course, I did.
For a while, it looked as if the "leave the trees alone" faction would prevail. Then, more than a year ago, sawdust was found around the base of one of the massive old pines close to the house.
That's not something you expect to see unless there's a chainsaw running, and the sawdust immediately speeded up the discussion.
It's important to note that this is not just any tree. It's a monster, easily 30 inches in diameter. And it stands directly behind the cabin, adjacent to a boulder that backs against the fireplace. If it had fallen, the entire cabin would have been destroyed or damaged beyond repair.
Quickly phone calls were made to various locals in New Hampshire who trim and cut trees. Not so quickly, the response came in.
One group took a look at the job and seemed eager, but it's not entirely clear that they were sober, and it's hard to imagine few things scarier than drunks with chainsaws.
Finally, the guy with the best reputation in the area was contacted and agreed to give it a look.
And look, he did.
Last summer, he and I walked around the cabin at least four times, looking not only at the tree in question but also at several others close to the structure.
He scratched his head, he hemmed, he hawed, he wondered aloud about how to do the job. Most of his work has involved using cranes to remove big trees. But the closest he could get with a crane was down the hill where the cars are parked. There was no way a crane could reach the tree from there.
He started wondering aloud about helicopters, and I saw dollar figures flying by like mosquitoes on a summer night.
Mostly, however, it seemed he was scared by the job. He came back at least three or four more times to give the job a look. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to give us a price, let alone take the project on.
Fortunately, Connie's sister has been persistent. And that effort bore fruit this month. Another lumberjack type, willing to climb the tree and bring it down piece by piece by rope to protect the house, signed on. His price, under the circumstances, was remarkably reasonable.
The net result was a phone call late last week: The tree was down. Not only that, but the same guy would be willing to look at some of the others if they're a concern in the future.
And so, I'm sleeping better. Or I should be. If I could just erase all those worries about the sub-prime mortgage loan crisis, Iraq, Iran and the future of newspapers, I'd be sleeping like a baby.
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Now, maybe, I can get a good night's sleep.
I've written several times over the years in this space about the cabin my wife's family has in southern New Hampshire. My first visit there was nearly 40 years ago, when we were dating. And for most summers of our married life, we've spent at least part of our vacation time there.
It's a pretty rustic place. The only heat comes from a smoky fireplace and a wood stove in the kitchen. There is no insulation to speak of. Water service comes via a gravity-driven system of pipes from a spring higher up the hillside. Anyone looking for luxury should look somewhere else.
But it's a marvelous place, and it's become a huge part of who we are as a couple and as a family.
When our kids were little and having trouble getting to sleep, we used to tell them to think of "the cabin in the woods" and imagine they were there. It always worked.
And many's the time I've done the same thing.
Faced with the tensions and anxieties that spring from newspaper deadlines, worrying about the changing face of technology, mulling over issues of world peace, writing the next day's editorial or article in my head, I'd find myself focusing on "the cabin in the woods." And it always worked, just as it had for the kids.
Until lately.
The cabin sits on a pretty steep hillside that's thickly wooded. My guess is that the hill ranges between 45 and 60 degrees in terms of pitch. And some of the trees are so close to the cabin you can touch them.
A couple of years ago, concerns started to be raised by my wife's siblings about whether some of the trees close to the cabin should be taken down.
I was skeptical, but I don't get a vote. Cabin ownership is divided among the five brothers and sisters. All I can do is kibbitz from the sidelines. Which, of course, I did.
For a while, it looked as if the "leave the trees alone" faction would prevail. Then, more than a year ago, sawdust was found around the base of one of the massive old pines close to the house.
That's not something you expect to see unless there's a chainsaw running, and the sawdust immediately speeded up the discussion.
It's important to note that this is not just any tree. It's a monster, easily 30 inches in diameter. And it stands directly behind the cabin, adjacent to a boulder that backs against the fireplace. If it had fallen, the entire cabin would have been destroyed or damaged beyond repair.
Quickly phone calls were made to various locals in New Hampshire who trim and cut trees. Not so quickly, the response came in.
One group took a look at the job and seemed eager, but it's not entirely clear that they were sober, and it's hard to imagine few things scarier than drunks with chainsaws.
Finally, the guy with the best reputation in the area was contacted and agreed to give it a look.
And look, he did.
Last summer, he and I walked around the cabin at least four times, looking not only at the tree in question but also at several others close to the structure.
He scratched his head, he hemmed, he hawed, he wondered aloud about how to do the job. Most of his work has involved using cranes to remove big trees. But the closest he could get with a crane was down the hill where the cars are parked. There was no way a crane could reach the tree from there.
He started wondering aloud about helicopters, and I saw dollar figures flying by like mosquitoes on a summer night.
Mostly, however, it seemed he was scared by the job. He came back at least three or four more times to give the job a look. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to give us a price, let alone take the project on.
Fortunately, Connie's sister has been persistent. And that effort bore fruit this month. Another lumberjack type, willing to climb the tree and bring it down piece by piece by rope to protect the house, signed on. His price, under the circumstances, was remarkably reasonable.
The net result was a phone call late last week: The tree was down. Not only that, but the same guy would be willing to look at some of the others if they're a concern in the future.
And so, I'm sleeping better. Or I should be. If I could just erase all those worries about the sub-prime mortgage loan crisis, Iraq, Iran and the future of newspapers, I'd be sleeping like a baby.
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