Oh what a beautiful morning. I've been enjoying it from my backyard, and from my sewing machine. But E just walked in and made a great morning even better. A great morning a wonderful one.
As I've sewn, I've been listening to the sounds of some kind of machinery, but being far from a mechanical type, I didn't identify the machine. Didn't think to try, even care to. I just sewed along, blythely unaware of the wonder going on in front of our home.
We have, you see, a fairly good view. Some might say a great view. We can see Bellingham Bay from our living room, watch fireworks on the 4th of July without leaving the comfort of our patio. And to the north, we can see the Canadian mountains in all their jagged splendor, though that has nothing to do with this story. Unfortunately, cutting off our view of the bay has been a large Douglas Fir across the street. For years we've talked about going over their and asking those folks if they'd mind cutting it down. We'd pay for it, even. But we never do anything about it. It's their tree, after all. And a living tree. Hard to cut down just to make our view broader.
But--you've guessed, haven't you?--those sounds I've been hearing all morning came from a chain saw, and even now, with the tree top still in the air, our view has doubled in size. But don't take my word for it. Here, see for yourself:
And, an hour an a half later, the gross, ugly, apparently-rat-infested tree beside it is also down. While I was out on our patio, watering my pots, admiring our view, the tree cutters asked if they should drop the invoice off at our house, and would we like them to cut down the telephone pole down the hill. "For a pan of cinnamon rolls?" I asked. Sure, they said. They like cinnamon rolls just fine, thank you very much.