the ugly tree

We have this tree in our yard, a Hawthorne, I hate it.

Yesterday I had my 14 year old lawn boy come over to mow the lawn. He wondered if he was able to do some other yard work too, so that he could buy his school clothes and such. I decided that he could trim a few of the smaller branches from the "Ugly Tree", as I have so lovingly named it. Well, the few small branches turned into larger branches which, in no time, turned into taking the 'Ugly Tree' out. I don't think he was expecting the work I got out of him. My amazing dad came by with his chain saw and cut up the wood as we loaded the trailer with the branches and my dad kept the bigger pieces for himself.

The thoughts of my Summers living in Vernal came back to me... Every Saturday my parents would get us up bright and early. We would dress in our finest grubby attire, pack a picnic lunch and cram ourselves into the 'Blue Bomber', our big blue van. My mom would follow my dad up into the Uintah Mountains as he drove the truck pulling an extremely large trailer. We spent most of the morning playing and talking while my dad took down trees and cut them up into pieces small enough for us to carry. Usually this was a time when we would daydream about what we would like our future to hold...it always came to opening up some sort of family business. My dad would then stop for lunch while the rest of us loaded the truck with wood: 2-3 of us piling the wood a little closer to the truck so that the next 2-3 of us could place it on the tailgate for 2 of us to stack into the truck. My dad's lunch breaks didn't last long. He ate and got right back to cutting up more wood. We still had the trailer to load. I am not sure how many cords of wood we could get on the truck and trailer, but it was a lot. We woud then get back into the van and truck and head home. The thought of a hot shower and clean clothes were on everyone's minds. When we pulled up into the driveway, it was time to unload it all and stack it with the rest of that years haul. Not until every last piece of wood was stacked and the trailer put away could we go inside. Those Saturday's hold some of my favorite memories growing up. And I believe if you ask any of my 5 siblings, they would tell you the same. I thank my dad for having such a great work ethic.

This morning I borrowed my dad's truck. With the girls in tow, we dropped off the first of 2 loads at the transfer station. Driving in the truck with my girls, me dressed in grubs and they in the first thing I found to throw on them this morning, brought back some memories of when I was little and the chosen, one or two, of us got to ride with my dad to the dump. We loved getting out of the truck to explore other peoples trash, without touching it, of course. We usually stopped off at the gas station on the way home for a pop and a treat. I didn't stop at a gas station today. But it was fun to watch Brinley doing the same thing I did as a child, asking questions about other people's stuff.