there's a hole in my...yard...
actually, there are two of them. big, long trenches. one is for the water pipes and one is for the electrical conduit. the yard is worse than i have ever seen it, and as of tomorrow, the worse right now than i will ever see it again.
there has been so much destruction, devastation, and reckless debauchery here on this property over the last three weeks. i feel every single, microscopic scream from the trees, the rocks, the land. no one really understands this. no one understands that the crazed look i generally have in my eyes is not due (really) to having to fire one contractor and hire another, having to deal with fits-and-starts and glitches in the process, having to fight city hall, having to deal with each agonizingly SLOW step in getting the work begun, in progress, and completed.
the crazed look is due to me feeling, with every fiber of my being, the utter confusion, sadness, fear, and pain of every tree that has been slaughtered, every wound in the land caused by gignatic, prehistoric-looking metal machinery, every root that has been dragged from the ground, every rock that has been thrown off into the woods without thought.
right now, this property is in total and complete shock. no one has ever roughed it up as much as i have given other people permission to do in the last...what, 1000 years? ever? i have a lot of sacrificing and repenting to do, for this land to forgive me. i know this, and it is a daunting task, and i don't expect others to understand it, as much as they don't understand the utter pain and desolation and disorientation and remorse i have felt over the last three weeks, resulting in a complete and total breakdown where i sobbed for nearly two hours, calling my mother in between and begged her, BEGGED her not to let the crew cut down my beloved ancient maple (she still stands). i feel ultimately and consumingly guilty at times, staring at the gaping maw of the land, the felled limbs bustled off into haphazard and thoughtless piles, the gnawed up gardens, the sheer reality of the chip-pile beside the garage, the literal symbolism of the chewed up bones of three giant pine trees.
the digging and ripping is almost over. friday, the concrete pad is scheduled to be laid over 15 inches of dirt and three inches of gravel. the wounds will be filled in. the flowers will be replanted, and more added. the house will be here next week, with all fingers and toes crossed, and with some serious praying.
and then...the repenting process will begin in earnest.
there has been so much destruction, devastation, and reckless debauchery here on this property over the last three weeks. i feel every single, microscopic scream from the trees, the rocks, the land. no one really understands this. no one understands that the crazed look i generally have in my eyes is not due (really) to having to fire one contractor and hire another, having to deal with fits-and-starts and glitches in the process, having to fight city hall, having to deal with each agonizingly SLOW step in getting the work begun, in progress, and completed.
the crazed look is due to me feeling, with every fiber of my being, the utter confusion, sadness, fear, and pain of every tree that has been slaughtered, every wound in the land caused by gignatic, prehistoric-looking metal machinery, every root that has been dragged from the ground, every rock that has been thrown off into the woods without thought.
right now, this property is in total and complete shock. no one has ever roughed it up as much as i have given other people permission to do in the last...what, 1000 years? ever? i have a lot of sacrificing and repenting to do, for this land to forgive me. i know this, and it is a daunting task, and i don't expect others to understand it, as much as they don't understand the utter pain and desolation and disorientation and remorse i have felt over the last three weeks, resulting in a complete and total breakdown where i sobbed for nearly two hours, calling my mother in between and begged her, BEGGED her not to let the crew cut down my beloved ancient maple (she still stands). i feel ultimately and consumingly guilty at times, staring at the gaping maw of the land, the felled limbs bustled off into haphazard and thoughtless piles, the gnawed up gardens, the sheer reality of the chip-pile beside the garage, the literal symbolism of the chewed up bones of three giant pine trees.
the digging and ripping is almost over. friday, the concrete pad is scheduled to be laid over 15 inches of dirt and three inches of gravel. the wounds will be filled in. the flowers will be replanted, and more added. the house will be here next week, with all fingers and toes crossed, and with some serious praying.
and then...the repenting process will begin in earnest.