I say “semi-old,” because I’m eligible for Social Security (still am two whole days into the new administration!), but I don’t consider people really old until they’re in their mid eighties. So, most of my friends aren’t old.
I’m say back, because I took yesterday off to honor the memory of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Lee and I watched many, many episodes of the West Wing, a wonderful television show from a quarter century ago about a US President and his staff. Perfect.
I say angry, because right now I’m rather irritable and impatient. This makes me quite inarticulate, which irritates me more! I can’t even make rational statements other than how much I care about disenfranchised folks.
So I had been wandering around feeling all my feels and hoping the biting, cold wind would suck away my angst. I’d been hearing some heavy equipment going beep around the ranch for a few days, and suddenly it was close. That messed up my bird recordings, which made me grumpier.
I heard a crack. Loud. Looking up I saw a backhoe zipping off to a pile of branches, carrying my Osage-orange tree, the only one on the ranch that’s on a part we will still own after Lee and Sara sell the cattle pastures at the end of the month. My tree, the coolest tree here, just got toted off.
I was steamed, as they would say in the old days. So I marched through the gate, dodging cow patties in my house slippers, with no coat on (it was about 36°), and went to find that backhoe or bulldozer or track-hoe or whatever it was. I found a very young stranger in it, and informed him he’d just killed my valuable tree (they are pretty rare, long story about settlers planting them, the wood being good for bows…). He said but it was dead. He was clearing dead trees from the tornado, as our tenant asked him to.
The tree was not dead. It had leaves and produced horse apples this summer. It’s deciduous. Grr. But, I looked at the young man, who was just doing what he was told to do, and asked him to please not knock over any more living trees, especially around my pond, because I do nature research there. His eyes got big. Well, I do engage in research! I was doing so right then!
Anyway I apologized for getting upset, and he said it was okay and called me ma’am dozens of times. This isn’t my time. Right now is not a good time to raise a ruckus about hippie stuff like trees. I sure feel old and helpless and expendable. besides, I need to stay under the radar, not act like a nutty tree hugger, even if I am a nutty tree hugger.
I’m not leaving you all, though. I want to share fun pictures and silly stories to bring some cheer, for all my non-old friends.
The Hermits' Rest 