Fallen Branches

I am hoping that by the end of this post, I will have found a reason to fall in love with all the tree branches that I gathered today.  This is just one of three piles of branches that I amassed:

We all know it was a rough winter for humans.  But it was rough on the trees, too.  The collateral damage was evident all over my property.  To make matters worse, over the last few years, I'd built up piles of stray twigs and branches just beyond the stone walls that define my hosta and fern beds, and now it was time to pay for my mistake.  The piled up branches had risen in volume, creating an eyesore.  Time to take it down.

May the Fourth be with me!  I dressed in long pants, long sleeves, high boots, work gloves, and a hoodie to brave the wilderness.  Putting aside my fear of snakes and ticks (and other things with a k in them), I began moving branches, limbs, and dead trees as far out into the woods as I could navigate.  This meant being continually slapped in the face by the unwieldy boughs of the spindly bushes that insist on growing wherever they please.  But after a few hours, my cleanup was paying off.  The stone wall was visible again.  And I'd only nearly impaled myself once.

So what do I love about these piles of sticks?  Well, I love that I live in a place that has them.  I cannot imagine living where there are no trees.  And I love that woods surround my property and that I can walk in them at will.  And I love that my piles of branches might become home to some little critters . . . even if they are snakes.