Brush Piles and Yard Work

LAKE MACBRIDE—  To say yard work has been a low priority is an understatement. During the 20 years since we built our home, landscaping has been a haphazard process governed by whim and fancy— and a vague sense of design that sufficed to get trees and a large quantity of lilac bushes planted.

An important consideration of buying a 0.6 acre lot was planning a large garden, but there is more to it than that. Trees were planted with an idea of gaining privacy on what was a barren piece of farm ground turned residential lot. Until the neighbor’s bordering evergreen trees began to die and were cut down last year, we had succeeded in getting as much privacy as one can in a rural subdivision.

The only surviving tree from the two that came with the lot is the mulberry tree. Since arriving we added four bur oak, one pin oak, two maple, two green ash, four apple, one pear, and two locust. With the mulberry, that makes 17. It took me a week to prune and cut up the fallen branches from all of these.

We don’t have a fireplace or use an outside burn pit for entertainment, so the brush needs to be cleared and disposed of. I’ll make a burn pile after the garden season, and store the brush for now. It should be a big fire.

If we lived in an apartment or condo, any yard work would be included in our association fees— others would do it. A state legislator recently said, “people want to live in cities,” but I don’t know about that.

Clearing the brush on a residential lot in the country is not the same as on a large acreage, but it remains a connection with nature and our attempt to cultivate it. This work runs through the heart of our lives in society, which might be less without it.

The exigencies of yard work and making something of the place where we live, in harmony with what remains of nature, takes work sometimes neglected. For a brief moment, when one job is done, and before another begins, we can feel good about our work, and that is something.