Apr 7, 2020 3 min read

What a weekend.

My husband had been working to clear a section of woods in our pasture of all of the dead trees last week. Not only for the purpose of making the remaining trees healthier and providing more pasture for the cows this summer, but also to begin preparing our wood supply for next winter.

Doesn’t like to be cold, that one.

At any rate, the kids and I joined him on the hill to work Saturday. There were dead trees to drag, root balls and small limbs that needed put into the fire, sections of tree trunk to cut into woodstove-sized pieces and straw and grass seed to be spread.

We worked for hours. Multiflora rosebushes were cut out and burned. The burn pile grew higher and higher. We planned to cook out over the coals around suppertime.

At one point, I noticed a grape vine that had been cut loose from the ground. Wild grapes can strangle trees, growing along their trunks and up into their canopies, breaking branches, shutting out light to the tree’s leaves, and even making ice and snow damage more likely.

Feeling adventurous, I went over to the vine and tested to see if it would hold my weight. It slipped a little, but caught and held. I took a small swing. And then a slightly larger one. After the third swing, my ability to hold on was more in question than whether the vine would hold me.

My daughter and son came to watch. And then, they each plucked up the courage to try it themselves.

My son took a tentative swing on each of his tries, but my daughter really let it rip, running backwards and flying forwards on the vine. When she got to the peak of her swing and she could see how far out over the edge of the bank she was, she started squealing and laughing.

I took photos of each of them grinning from ear to ear while swinging.

The adventurous spirit took hold of them, and they then took turns riding the trees that were being pulled behind the little tractor.

“I’m surfing,” my daughter yelled once.

“Yeah, well I’m riding a broom like Harry Potter,” my son yelled back.

Time passed until it was time to start dinner.

My son dug holes in the ground and filled them with hot coals. I set a cast iron skillet in one and a cast iron pot in the other. In the pot went beans and hot dogs, and we fried burgers in the other. Chips and macaroni salad rounded out our meal.

We worked until nearly dark, but we still aren’t done.

The fire is still smoldering, the firewood that has been cut is still awaiting its ride to the barn to cure over the summer, and there is more area needing to be covered with straw and grass seed.

Once that is all done, there are several other sections of the farm that need similar attention paid to them.

And a million other jobs remain as well.

Being required to stay home as much as possible could have the advantage of encouraging some of them to be completed.

And if we have half as much fun doing them as we did working yesterday, I cannot wait.