Oh the Possibilities

Dearest Blog Reader.

I hope that this finds you doing well. I am fine. Although I am recovering. I know what you are saying. “That Roger he’s always recovering in his blog. Just get over it. Life isn’t that hard.” Your’e right. I embellish. I make up things. Life isn’t that hard. But you would read it if everything is fine. Nobody wants to read stories or watch TV shows about vacation days leisurely passing by, getting up at noon, sitting by the pool, reading books, going out to eat with the lovely Miss Beverly, binge watching three episodes of the Walking Dead only to go to bed and wake up on day two of vacation and start it all over again. Even when we watched Seinfeld all of those years, we didn’t want the show to be about carefree, easy breezy days. Seinfeld a show about nothing, They didn’t do the things that we did. No they killed off their fiancées with toxic wedding invitation glue. They were not being served soup by a soup Nazi, They even celebrated festivis instead of Christmas, because we don’t want to watch people do the same things that we are doing.

So yes, I am still recovering. In fact, the last blog was being composed in the middle of the chaos that I am currently letting ebb away. It was the week of Ben and Lisa’s wedding. I am sure that she will some day become known as the lovely Miss Lisa. However, that is Ben’s blog to write in another place and time should he decide that is what he wants to do. 

Yes, when I wrote five weeks ago, the Sharritt household was slipping into the chaos of wedding week. The wedding was to be a blessed affair and along the way there were ten acres of parking lot and wedding meadow to cut, a humongous tent to set up, several pizzas to eat, make up to apply, table cloths to press, (I pointed out to the lovely Miss Beverly, that yes there would come a time when that commercial cloths press with the rolling hot presses would have come in handy. But instead we left our $5 investment to rust in a farm field in Northwest Indiana where it would do us no good some 30 years later), and my favorite, the traditional rehearsal day sports extravaganza where we all gather around the bride and groom playing risky sports on uneven ground daring the fates to give the bride or groom a twisted ankle or black eye. When it finally works those will be very special wedding pictures. We’ve come close. We did have an aunt who fractured her arm for one wedding. We will keep trying.

There is a beautiful 200 year old oak tree that is on the farm tucked away in a small valley. By all rights, it should have been logged out 80 years ago. The family that owned the farm before selling it to my grandfather, logged all of the good timber before the sale. They left about 15 old oaks that were hollow and not fit for lumber. Those old trees have fallen through out the years; returning to the dust from which they sprang. In some strange over sight they left this one. Maybe it was too young at 120 years old. I have no idea. But the tree has stood through 60 years of cows pasturing under it. Idly whiling away the hot summer days under its 100 ft spread; patiently stomping a foot and twitching their tails to disturb the latest biting fly. If their constant pressure caused damaging compaction around its roots, the tree does not appear to be showing any negative effects. It still stands.

I am not sure because two events do not make trend. However, two is the only sample size available to us currently. Any how, the children of the lovely Miss Beverly like to be married under this tree. The intervening 20 years of no cattle had left a classic example of forest succession. The meadow was full of honey locust trees. I know what you are thinking “ah how beautiful and natural, trees that are named after honey.” This is a blatant example of an arborist’s false advertising. Honey locusts if properly named, would be called #@#@# thorn trees. So four years ago, we donned our leather gloves and work boots and cleared out about an acre and a half under this giant oak and had a wedding.

The entrepreneurial Sharritt’s had visions of event planning grandeur. Who wouldn’t want to get married under a two hundred year old oak tree surrounded by nature’s beauty? Indeed, we did have some interest from a few brides who could see the beautiful possibilities. Unfortunately, they were always accompanied by their mothers who could not get past the possibilities of rain, mosquitoes, and 90 degree heat with 95% humidity. So we have set those plans aside and given our money making schemes a rest. In spite of that, last fall Ben and Lisa said that they would like to get married under the tree next July. And just like in Brigadoon, a vision started to emerge. The first step in forest succession is a stand of golden rod killing all of the grass. So last September the weeds were whacked and grass seed was sown. There were a few thorn trees that needed attacking and this spring a regular rotation of mowing the meadow, the wedding parking lot and the reception parking lot: 10 acres in all. No wonder the old farm management loved having cows doing the work for them.

In the picture, you can see the Friday morning picture of the big tree, all the chairs and the wedding arch. You

can’t see is the 3 inch thunderstorm on the horizon at 6:00 pm. That evening. You can’t see the excellent storm water system that the neighboring little town has installed. It is excellent because it dumps all of that water on our farm and it meanders its way to Fall Creek . . . right through the middle of all of those chairs. 

On wedding day, at 7:30 in the morning, I walked down to the wedding meadow and discovered the 4 inch deep stream of water running right through the seating area. I hope that the guests remembered to bring their wellies. High heels were definitely out of the accessory possibilities. 

What do you do with 4 inches of water and 9 hours before the wedding? You bail. You grab a friend, 2 pumps, and build a dam as it enters the meadow and pump the surface water away. After an hour, you realize that two pumps are not enough and grab a shovel, walk 20 yards into the woods and put skills that you acquired in kindergarten to work. You dig a 200 yard trench around the wedding meadow, diverting the water away from the place where 200 well dressed people will be sitting in four hours. Then you go to where the water is leaving and you dig another trench draining the residual water away from the sitting area.

Don’t worry. We moved the chairs a little bit, and no one lost a shoe in the mud. The wedding went off without a hitch. It was a beautiful day. I sit down in my front row seat, looked at my step counting watch and realized that I had logged 20,000 steps and I hadn’t started dancing.

The Kozak's, Low’s and Sharritt’s are blessed to have children that see the wonderful possibilities in life. Children who see the beauty and majesty of a 200 year old tree spread out over the meadow. Children who can discount the risks to get to the benefits. Children who know it may be 90 degrees on July 8 but that meadow will be a beautiful place to get married. Children who know that bad things will happen. Children who know that gulley washers happen. Children who know that challenges can be worked through, addressed and overcome. Children who know that there are shovels for that.  Actually, we are blessed to have young adults who can stay in the moment and recognize the struggle is part of the beautiful journey.

Lisa and Ben may your ditch digging be as blessed as your I dos.

Take care

Roger