Okay since everything turned out okay I can tell you this story.
It's not, by the way, a story that makes us look great. But it is a great story.
On Sunday we engaged in all kinds of yard work that inevitably, inevitably wound up with me waaaaay up on a ladder sawing branches off a tree with various hand saws we happen to have in our garage. Through the course of the afternoon/evening I used a big hand saw, a small hand saw, and a medium hand saw on branches the width of a pencil to branches six inches in diameter.
Now, all this branch cutting is leading up to one of these six-inchers, the only six-incher, in fact, being cut down. A weird branch, it juts out a few feet from the main trunk then arcs upward to the sky, branches shooting out from it along the way up between the tree's other, proper branches.
I actually started on this branch with the big saw... but the progress wasn't much for the physical exertion I applied. So I moved on to all the other branches. Later, when I turned my attention back again, I tried the small hand saw... but that was also gonna take forever.
Then I grabbed the medium hand saw and suddenly I was sailing through: one inch, two inches, three. Until Kimmer looked up in horror and told me to stop.
So I kept going.
Four inches.
Four-and-a-half.
Until she seriously urged me to stop so I stopped.
From her point of view, the problem was quite obvious. I don't know what exactly I was thinking... but one of the possibilities was that, once I cut enough through the branch, the whole thing would rotate and slam into the neighbor's house.
The whole thing would come down hard on our fence and demolish it.
The whole thing was gonna come down on our arbor and demolish it.
Given the arc of possibilities, there's no way nothing was gonna get smashed.
It seemed just then that our move should be to get a rope over the branch farther up so we could guide its ultimate descent from the ground.
So.
I climb back up the ladder with a terribly thick blue and white striped fuzzy rope (it's just what we had), a 2x4 attached to the end of the rope, and, once I'm up top, I tried to lob it over the branch from there.
On my first try, the 2x4 flew halfway before not enough rope pulled it down toward the ground. A bit like pitching a ball into the dirt between home plate and the pitcher's mound although, in my case, we're talking about a distance of five feet.
Yeah. Embarrassing.
So I gather more rope and try it again once. Try it again twice. Then tried extending my arm holding the 2x4 to see if I could shove it over the branch. But the best I could do is get it on top of the branch but no further because...
Because it turns out there's another branch behind that branch that's preventing me from pushing the rope over and behind it. So down the ladder I go with the rope, back up the ladder I go with the hand saw, cutting off this second branch then down the ladder I go with the hand saw, up the ladder I go with the rope, pitching it over the branch, but...
No.
It doesn't and it never clears no matter how I try to pitch or push.
Completely defeated, I climb back down the ladder, handing the rope over to Kimmer who feels like she wants to give this a go from ground level.
So.
Twirling the rope beside her like a cowboy, she then releases it underhand, sending it—
Oof.
It goes a few feet, jerks back, crashes to the ground.
Why?
Because Kimmer's standing on the rope.
So yeah. That happened.
She then tries a couple more times not standing on the rope but with plenty of rope free to travel the full distance. Sadly, this method never works to thread that small bit of clearance between the branch above her and the one above it.
Eventually she, too, gives up in defeat and decides we are officially done with the day's yard work. Before we pack everything up and stash it all back in the garage, though, she ties one end of the rope to a section of branch she can reach from the top of the ladder and, after climbing back down, ties the other end to the thick wood frame of our swing set 20-30 feet away.
We were hoping, we were trying to loop the rope farther up the branch for more control...
But this'll just have to do.
Even having cut most of the way through, the branch seems secure. Definitely it's not going anywhere so we'll just come back to this task the following morning.
And with that, we're done! Putting everything away, catching well-deserved hot showers, we eventually head off to bed for a deep, deep sleep.
The next morning we wake to another sunny day and breakfast in bed... then lounging part of the morning in bed. At some point, Kimmer thinks to look up YouTube videos about limbing trees. That's right. She looks it up the day after I've been happily sawing off branches without a care in the world.
Hey. At least she looked.
Never did it occur to me to look up how to do what I had no idea how to do.
And yes. It turns out there is a best way to limb thick, heavy tree branches.
Three cuts: the first underneath the limb about 6-8 inches from the main trunk. You mainly need to be all the way through the bark to prevent more bark than necessary being ripped from the main trunk by the weight and force of the falling limb. Ripped bark is to trees what a gash in our skin is to humans.
The second cut is one you make all the way through the limb a few inches further up the branch. Bark is ripped off in the process but that strip is stopped by the first cut.
The third and final cut is the one you make, again all the way through, nearest the main trunk at the "collar" of the branch. All these cuts assure the least amount of damage to the tree.
Okay. Got it.
So then we get up, ready to start the day and resume our work.
Now. Remember when I said "Even having cut most of the way through, the branch seems secure"?
I was serious about that. Even with the amount I sawed through from the top (5 of 6 inches, I think) the branch felt immovable. And so it remained as Kimmer tied it to the thick swing set beam, as we put everything away, indulged hot showers, went to bed, slept deep deeeeeep sleeps until at some point the tree limb's weight began to shift.
How do we know this?
Because in the morning, after we researched the proper way to cut down such a limb, Kimmer walked into the kitchen, looked out the windows above the sink, and saw it.
I don't remember what she said or the sound she made... but it effectively was a distress call. So I booked it out of bed, down the hall, into the kitchen, and yup.
The tree limb was down.
The tree limb came down exactly where we meant it to. Oh sure, I know it looks like it demolished the white frame arbor... but Kimmer'd already flattened it the day before because it was already doing a pretty extreme Leaning Tower of Pisa routine. So she preemptively laid it all the way flat to the ground.
The limb, then, managed in the night or early morning to avoid smashing into the side of our neighbor's house, crashing down on our fence, or smashing the arbor. In fact, had the arbor remained standing, the amount of lean away from the tree might've meant the limb could've barely missed the arbor.
Maybe.
Unlike the Hunger Games, in this case the odds turned out very fortunately in our favor. The limb landed pretty much where we would've guided it to. It wasn't a catastrophic event. Its departure from the main tree trunk made no sound of which we or any of our neighbors took note.
It just happened.
Perfectly.
No thanks to us.
🤯






