If you ever wondered why you never saw flowers on a fig tree it’s because the fig is the flower.
On July 2 of 2017 there was rain and wind on Paris Mountain. I was reclining in front of the TV, but a lightning storm was interrupting the signal. Then I heard a very loud crack and a bang that brought me instantly to my feet.
A giant tree about a hundred years old, which has been leaning from our neighbor’s side of the creek, had finally fallen. Within a second or two it brought three of our trees, probably about fifty or sixty years old, down with it. The splitting trunk of one of those trees must have been the crack that I heard.
First I thought of Mr. Mims and called him to make sure he wasn’t under there somewhere. Thankfully, he wasn’t. It’s not like he didn’t already have a list of summer tasks he wanted to accomplish. Ever since that day, between tilling and sowing and watering and mowing, he has been steadily untangling those trees. The first goal was to clear our drive. Now it’s still about taking apart a puzzle to get at the motherlode. He goes in there with the chainsaw and then the boys go in and clear and sort. We have no shortage of firewood anyway.
I have to say I am full of admiration for my man… and I don’t mind fixing him whatever he wants for dinner….