Yell At The Trees #advice

On the ride home from work yesterday, I gave a piece of advice to one of my slugs when he mentioned he had a bad day at work and punched his desk.

Smiling, I stared at the traffic-filled highway and almost giggled when I said, "Don't punch your desk. Go home and yell at the trees."

He laughed, but I meant it. Work is the last place you want to show your anger. Well, really anger gets you nowhere, but that's a different story.

So, when a friend called me and shared an experience that had me upset for her, I decided to take my advice and "Go yell at the trees."

But when I stepped into the woods beside my house, I couldn't scream. I couldn't vent my frustrations. All I could do was listen. So that's what I did. I listened to the trees, the bugs, the leaves shifting in the breeze. Cicadas vibrated and made their little buggy noises so loudly it sounded like a car alarm going off.

Squirrels scampered through underbrush, rushing from tree to tree as they took their prizes home.

Fence lizards ran in circles around the gnarly tree trunks.

Floral smells filled the warm, humid air, mixing in with the musty smell of damp leaves and dirt.

This path is featured in Shattered Secrets. This path is what Abigail walks down in the summers with Derick. Though the story starts out in the winter. This path is what sparks my creativity. My imagination runs endlessly when I'm out there.

I picture sword fights. I picture butterflies and fairies. I'm inspired by nature. I love nature.

I definitely don't want to yell at it, but at the same time, I feel as though the trees wouldn't mind. They would listen. They'd shift and try reaching out to me to tell me everything's going to be okay. They'd whisper encouragement. Maybe sprinkle a little pollen (yes, there was sneezing yesterday).

Nature is forgiving, kind, gentle. Ironically, nature is also harsh, brutal, and holds endless power. Exactly the kind of friend I like having.

So, the point of all this? When you're having a bad day, when you need someone to yell at, when you need a friend and no one else is around, go listen to the trees.

See what nature sparks in you. For me, it's definitely not anger.

What do you do when you have a bad day?

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Me and a Tree

I looked up the eighty-foot tall tree in our backyard and cringed when I saw a man tethered to harnesses, a chainsaw hanging from his belt.

"He's either very brave or very stupid," I said to my husband, who was taking tons of pictures of the people removing dead trees before Hurricane Sandy's arrival.

"Nah. He's a professional." The awe in his voice—or was that jealousy—made me worried he might make a trip to the climbing store and try to take a few trees down on his own.

Please, God, no!

Limb after limb fell to the ground with earth-rattling thuds, and thousands of red and yellow leaves drifted through the air like snowflakes in winter.

The scene captivated me, rooted me in place, and I watched with sweaty palms and a cup of coffee. After about a half-hour of cutting and tying off and dropping the branches, the crew climbed down and then cut down the massive trunk.

My family clapped and cheered, and Kid #3 cried, "Pick it up, Daddy. Pick up that tree!"

She was serious, too! I've never seen her look so upset.

And me, well, I wanted in on the action. I wanted to watch them remove more trees. I wanted to hold a chainsaw and understand the expression hot knife through butterwhen people referred to the power of the logger's best friend.

I wanted to cut down a tree.

Good thing we had a few more that needed removing—ones that were small enough for us to handle and too expensive to have the tree guys remove.

So, we loaded up our family and drove to Lowes. A small investment in rope later, and we were back at home, putting Kid #3 down for a much needed nap, pulling out our gloves, the 4-wheeler, the chainsaw, and all that other stuff.

Once the baby was sleeping peacefully, I rode the 4-wheeler through the woods—yes, I totally love living in the "sticks." I helped my hubs tie the rope around one tree and the winch of the 4-wheeler, then we tied the 4-wheeler to another tree.

We decided it would be best for me to stay with the 4-wheeler while he used the chainsaw—yeah, he's smarter than me; I would have killed myself—and we even worked out hand signals.

"While I'm cutting, you press the 'in' button to keep tension on the line. Got it?"

I nodded, held my breath, and waited.

He started the chainsaw and the cutting.

Wait? Which way's in? What if I hit the wrong button? What if the tree crashes into the house? What if we didn't tie the 4-wheeler down properly?

I probably shouldn't sit on it.

Checking the buttons repeatedly, I pressed 'in', then watched the weight of the tree slowly pull the line back out.

Shit! What if it's too big for the winch?

My hubs moved away from the tree and put his thumbs up in the air.

Gulp. I pressed the 'in' button, and the effing 4-wheeler lifted off the ground!

It liftedoff the ground! "The 4-wheeler's moving!!"

"Okay."

He restarted the chainsaw and returned to cutting, and I returned to freaking out, keeping as much tension as I possibly could while he was beside something that could easily take his life.

What were we thinking?

Hubby moved away from the tree and stuck his thumbs in the air again, and next thing I knew, all the tension went away and a crack echoed through our woods.

Crack, crack, crack.

Oh. My. God. That tree is coming right toward me!



I knew I was far enough away, but what would you do if a fifty-foot tree fell in your direction? Run. That's what you would do; don't say you wouldn't!

The ground vibrated, and I laughed my ass off.

Boom!

"That was awesome!" I shouted, running toward my husband and jumping over dead branches.

He smiled at me, all proud and probably in shock that his wife didn't eff things up.

We spent the next few hours removing tiny trees and clearing the felled ones from the path, and then I took Kid #2 and #1 on 4-wheeler rides.

Overall, it was a pretty spectacular day . . . and no one got hurt!

Score!

<3 Krystal

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