Of Trees and Deer

In the stony area of Cumberland Plateau in southeast Tennessee, trees grow roots down until they hit rock at four to six feet. They spread under the shallow surface to lengths of 50-60 feet. We lost one large tree that fell during a storm in the middle of the night, parallel to our deck. Only ten feet away. The whomp when it hit the ground woke me up. That was a close call.

Our new house is surrounded by several acres of old and venerable trees that have populated our acreage for sixty-plus years, shedding limbs and providing shade but not falling on our house. My dear husband's wisdom says, "That large tree is tipping towards the house. It needs to come down." 

So we negotiate until I see his logic of removal.

Out come the tractor, winches, pulleys, cables, chains, chainsaw, and ax, tools to take down trees and uproot their massive stumps. Mostly, I nervously stay in the house, waiting for the whomp of the downed tree. Sometimes, he calls me outside to consult a course of action--moral support, I think. As I stand by while he takes the tree down, I pray. No injuries yet, only sore muscles the next day.  

Several long-lived oaks and pines are down to make room for an equipment shelter and shed. More sunshine floods an area where I plan to plant wildflowers that need full sun. A fire pit is on the landscaping plans. We look forward to gathering friends and neighbors for campfire stories and s'mores, maybe a hot dog or two.

DH's next task, after the tree does a whomp bounce, is to cut it into sections that the tractor can move. Brush piles galore lie behind our house that will eventually make it to a burn pile or wood to be split and seasoned. 

The leaves remain green on the ground for a few days before they whither and turn brown. One morning, I finished making our bed and then crossed in front of my bedroom window, looking out at the tree pile. Movement caught the corner of my eye. With wonder, I watched the first young deer approach the green leaves within nibbling height. Then its twin walked out of the forest. I could hardly breathe when a third youngling came out to get a green leaf snack. Triplets. Then, their beautiful doe-mama cautiously approached the open area while I stood still. 

That morning, I received the incredible gift of the doe bringing her three babies for a green leaf buffet they could reach because of the downed trees. A magical moment of redemption and a glimpse of God's provision for his people and creation.

What is your magical summer memory?