Dead Wood....and a New Dawn

Today, December 31, began with a fire.

A red ember at first, then a gigantic ball of orange-red flame rose and engulfed the landscape and entered into the very window of the study, penetrating the darkness and shadows of the house at 6:25 A.M. Why today, I wondered, is this phenomenon occurring? This day, the eve of something new, something bold and grand and frightening…this day, the symbolic end of things incredible, things unforeseen, things ominous?

Dead wood is why…and a lot of useless live wood, too.

The run rises every day on the water’s eastern horizon, but from the vantage point of our home-office the event was unobservable. Dead wood and useless live wood was the problem. But no longer…it’s all gone now, allowing the eternal flame to enter unobstructed into the house, offering up the glorious sunrise over the water, a new day with promises and possibilities unimagined.

Those with lucky horizons see this event every day, and they see it because there is no dead wood to obscure their vista. Today we join them. That’s because Josh, Tony and Roberto showed up yesterday, bringing with them the cruel but necessary tools to carve up the overgrown landscape that had also engulfed the yard.

“Here we are, boss-man, ready to let the sunshine back into your yard, and I hope nobody’s still sleeping, ‘cause it’s going to get noisy,” Tony said as he fired up his chain saw. “What do you want us to do?” Without hesitation I answered,”Boys, I want to see the sun shine again in this yard.”

“Yessir, Boss, we’re experts at getting rid of your dead wood, and the useless live wood that hangs out with it,” Josh hollered from the boom bucket rising 50 feet into the thick oak branches. “Senor, las palmas son una problema tambien,” Roberto points out. “I know,” I replied, “whack all those dead branches out so we can see the sun, Roberto.”

Progress seemed slow at first, but soon the useless debris of mingled dead and live branches littered the driveway, and even the once-nuisance pine tree lay comatose, bleeding its rosin in lifeless chunks on the gravel. These boys were board-certified ruthless surgeons, hell-bent on a mission of restoring a yard that was in desperate need of sunlight. On and on the saw buzzed, the branches fell, the light creeping back into the dark crevices that had laid waste to expensive zoysia grass. It all seemed so heartless, but so necessary.

Days end, as did this one, with the setting of the sun. The boys were done, and the yard was clean. What will it all look like tomorrow, I wondered? Like all new haircuts, or purges of other nature, the results would be seen with the rising of a new sun; I would know soon enough.

Nature itself abhors that which is useless, that which is dead, and soon the rot of decay renders stubble for fires and mushrooms, those grim reapers of death to the superfluous. There’s a lesson here for me, I thought. For even as nature itself is ruthless with the dead and useless, so must I be. The new will just not grow where sunlight does not shine…and as any arborist will tell you, the fruit is always in the new branches, not the dead ones.

The temperate coastal zones assure continued growth, especially when fertilized. So, no matter how often the foliage is pruned, it will grow again, some to flowers and fruit, some to useless branches with nothing but leaves. So yesterday’s purging of the dead wood and the useless live branches is not a “be all, end all” by any means. No, it is an ongoing process, especially if one likes to see new sunrises.

The eve of an old year is now upon us, and the dawn of a new one is about to occur. I always liked this day because I feel justified in purging my own desk, data base and life of that which is irrelevant and meaningless…all without a guilty conscious. Yes, it makes some room for the growth of new relationships, new things, new possibilities. It’s exciting.

Today’s sunrise was a harmless fire as it entered through the window this morning…a “friendly fire” in insurance lingo, the kind of fire that poses little risk to actuarial tables. As the sun rose I could see what yesterday’s purge had accomplished, and I knew this would not be the last “fire” I’d see this year.

Today the sun shines again in our yard. The big trees are perhaps still recovering somewhat from their surgery, and they will soon heal and be back at what they do best: grow. I think I hear this morning a chorus of small shrubs singing joyously in thanksgiving for this gift of new light.

Advice, or New Year’s Resolution? Not from me. But I promise you that for a while there will be a lot more sunshine around this homeplace, and less dead wood to spoil the view.

Welcome to the eve of a new dawn, and may 2009 be the best year of our collective lives. Happy New Year!

Bud Hearn
December 31, 2008