Tag Archives: apple trees

Walkies!

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Yes, it finally happened.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten…. walked. In the harness. On the leash. Of his own accord.

Be still my heart.

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After weeks of useless excursions when all he did was glance at me in disdain…. the other day he suited up and hit the door running.

Well, strolling is more accurate but I’ll take it. No fuss, no fight. He walked across the lawn, around the barn and woodshed, climbed the front stone wall, got tangled up in the bird bath and even lead me over to the apple trees.

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Which he found quite fascinating.

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I was happy to let him sit in the crook of the tree sniffing and scratching the bark, but then before I could react….

Bam!

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The little devil was scrambling up the tree with me still holding the leash. He wouldn’t come down, so I had to go up, and it wasn’t pretty.

Ever try to wrangle a leashed and harnessed cat out of a tree? It’s not a smooth process and I don’t recommend it.

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Upon retrieval, his Lordship was exhausted and happily plopped in the shade. I, on the other hand, examined my scratched arms, broken nail and twig infested hair.

And if that wasn’t bad enough? This morning I woke up with a wicked brown tail moth rash on my neck.

Needless to say we will be giving the apple trees a wide berth from now on.

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Worst gift I ever gave him.

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After the landing rebuild fiasco, I thought my husband was done for the day….. but then I heard the chain saw.

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And went outside to find that he had cut off the fallen section of apple tree we just had an arborist look at.

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I wanted to pay a professional to trim the trees properly and what I got was this…

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I swear how that man hasn’t killed himself is one of life’s biggest mysteries.

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I sputter at him to be more careful all the time, to no avail…. but I figure I might as well video his escapades in case the life insurance company needs documentation for my claim.

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The afternoon was spent cleaning up the mess.

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And our poor tree did not look happy.

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But at least there’s a nice wheelbarrow full of applewood….

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I informed you thusly.

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My husband doesn’t like it when I say I told you so. And oddly enough he doesn’t like it when I roll my eyes at him either. So from now on I shall be channeling Sheldon Cooper and saying “I informed you thusly.”

I uttered this phrase repeatedly yesterday when I walked out to the barn after a rain storm and saw this:

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In case you aren’t aware, apple trees limbs are not supposed to be lying on the ground.

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When we moved to this house 20 years ago, there were two gorgeous mature apple trees in the backyard.

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I put furniture under them, kept trimming the lower branches and spent long lazy summer afternoons reading in the shade. Then, out of nowhere… the husband decided I was hurting the trees and refused to let me prune them. I fought against this ruling for a few years and then gave up. This was the result:

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Every year the trees were so laden with fruit they hung to the ground. It drove me crazy but the husband wouldn’t let me near them with shears. I kept telling him he would regret it, but he wouldn’t listen.

So naturally, this happened:

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A major branch, basically half the Granny Smith tree… cracked and split off.

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I contacted a licensed arborist and he’ll be here in a few days to give us an estimate for structural pruning to save the trees from further destruction.

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And after we’ve paid a small fortune to someone we didn’t really have to?

I shall inform him thusly one more time.

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