Yesterday late in the afternoon I was washing the house with hot water, vinegar (works great on white siding!) and a really long squeegee, when my friend Sheila and her handy husband Terry pulled up. They were "in the neighborhood." Which is a hoot, because NOBODY is "in the neighborhood" where I live. It's over the river and through the woods, literally. Plus a few cornfields, some cow pastures, etc.
Anyway, turns out, there was an accident on the major route they were taking to get home, and they were rerouted just a couple of miles away from me. So they drove past my house, and low and behold, I was outside working. Robert was inside cooking dinner (what's wrong with this picture?) and the kids were all doing their own thing.
So, Sheila and I are chatting, and Terry gets out his chainsaw, which is something he's been threatening to do lately. He says "I'm just going to come along here out by the road and cut off some of these pine tree limbs." I have a really long pruner, but it only cuts smaller limbs. It's a big pain in the butt to use, too. So, he made good on his threat.
Since my grandmother believed in planting trees on about every square foot of the acre she owned, it's made for a WHOLE lot of maintenance with the pines, maples, apple trees, peach trees, cherry trees, etc. It is something that can easily get out of control with our hectic schedules. The maples weren't really her fault. They were there in the 50's when my grandparents bought the place...they're easily 100 years old. As for the rest of the trees, shrubs, etc., they were her handiwork.
So, anyway, tree limbs start flying. Robert, being the antisocial type guy he is, never came out to see what was going on, he kept cooking away. (Which was great, really, because it was getting late.) Finally, the kids gathered 'round to take in the excitement.
Jess and her boyfriend started pulling limbs to the far side of the lot to our brush pile...which now looks like a Christmas tree graveyard. Low lying maple branches weren't safe. A bunch of scrubby looking branches went by the wayside. Finally, he asked me if I wanted him to take down one of the smaller pine trees (by smaller, it was still as tall as the second story window of the house.) I said, "sure."
So, I called Josh, my oldest, to assist. Terry cut while Josh and I steadied the tree, so it wouldn't fall toward the house.
Everything was fine; I was balancing the tree, pushing against it with my legs a good distance away from the chainsaw. Apparently, Josh wasn't as far away from it as me. When chainsaw cut through the tree, it bounced back and nicked Josh's leg. He jumped back, leaving me holding the tree.
John, Jess' beau, stepped in, and along with Sheila and myself, we pushed the tree away from the house. Just as it started to fall, Taz came zooming around the house (where he had been hiding from the noise of the chainsaw) and narrowly missed being a pine tree pancake puppy. That gave me quite a start, as if Josh's leg getting nicked wasn't enough.
So, with the tree safely down, I went in the house and look at Josh's leg. The cut was deep, but not wide. It wasn't bleeding at the time, it just looked gross. Sheila, a nurse, said a butterfly bandage should suffice. However, I didn't have one around. All I had was regular bandaids. I cleaned it out with peroxide, bandaged it up, and had him prop his leg up.
Later, he got bored and started helping pull the limbs and branches out to the wood pile. When he went back in the house, the cut had started bleeding down into his shoe.
At this point, he stayed home from school to keep the leg elevated. He is adamant about not going to the doctor, and wants us to try the butterfly bandage first. (He hates needles.) So, I'm armed with antibiotic ointment, gauze, medical tape and butterfly bandages to go play nurse.
Wish me luck.
At least the yard looks totally different. So that's my Ohio Chainsaw Mayhem. Hope there's no mayhem of any kind in your night this evening.
More later.
