A pear tree comes down

 I shouldn’t tell this story: I sawed down a 42-foot Bradford pear, dropping it between the Wise Woman’s greenhouse and a wooden fence.

The tree was on a slope, looming over the greenhouse. I had to cut it at an odd angle to make it fall into the narrow landing zone. On the way down, the tree missed the greenhouse by 6 inches and brushed the fence.

If my grandfather were telling this story, it would be OK. He grew up in East Texas and could handle a saw. He always put a stake in the ground where he wanted a tree to fall. He would drop the pine so that its trunk crushed the stake.

As they say in Texas, it ain’t bragging if you can do it.

He could have told this story properly, as a matter of fact.

I, on the other hand, am telling it with such profound relief it feels like joy.

My grandfather was skilled. I was lucky.