Picking up Sticks

Sticks are a never-ending chore where there are lots of trees that include pecans and oaks. Every strong wind brings down more dead twigs, sometimes good-sized limbs.

While I was on stick patrol, making little piles of twigs and branches to pick up later in the UTV to haul off to the burn pile, I noticed my concrete bench had sunk forward under the live oak — it was this way when the daffodils bloomed — but I didn’t worry about it then.

I brought my little green flat-bed wagon and eased the bench top over onto it, with about a third hanging off so I could slide it back off when the supports were in place.

I ‘walked’ the uprights over to the next oak, carefully measuring with a dead branch so they’d be the right distance apart and eyeballing them for level.

When I pulled the wagon alongside to move the top back onto the supports, Buffy, who’d been watching from a distance, decided to help. Suddenly she was standing on top the bench top in its precarious postition on the edge of the wagon. When I coaxed her to get off, she SAT on the edge that was hanging over.

I held my breath as her ample backside slowly sat on the very edge. I could just see 90 pounds of dog and about that weight in concrete taking a tumble. Mercifully, the whole thing held and I urged her to come forward toward me.

The top is now eased into place without further incident and without help from he-who-mows who is having back spasms without my projects to add to his misery.

I can see the bench from the kitchen window now. It looks level.

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  1. well done !!!

  2. You are sooooo right about twigs — what a job! We have oak, pine, cypress, etc. I imagine one of these days I’ll be clonked in the head by a falling green pine cone and that’ll be the end of me.

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