Stone Path and Dead Fir

Aren't these titles inspiring? Ha!

John and I were out bright and early this morning trying to beat the heat. We were working on a new stone path to replace the one that used to go from the drive to the front door. The old walk was as straight as an arrow. I do hate a straight path.

~Path and Postage Stamp Front Lawn~

There had been an old tar walkway there until I ripped it out last summer. It was to the left of the stones where the azalea bush is now. We tried going without a path at all, but that doesn't work because the mower must squeak between the garden on the left and the mailbox morning glory garden on the right. Nope. Not working. Time for Plan B.

I set two stones yesterday and nearly keeled over so asked John for help today. Poor man dug and placed and fiddled and brought in dirt and took it out and wound up hopping up and down on each stone to set it, with sweat pouring down like rain. Too hot for such pursuits, but we were well into it by then. 

What was I doing? Digging out more sod, fetching tools, and issuing orders supplying suggestions.

~dead fir~

While thus occupied, a truck drove up and a lumberjack hopped out. He began talking with our neighbor about the condition of neighbor's fir tree. It's dead. Completely. I had tried to gently break the news to neighbor yesterday, but his hopes were high for a miracle. Not to be.

This is how you usually see this tree — from my kitchen window.

This photo was taken on June 20 of this year and I can see some red in the branches. The tree in question is all the way to the left. I can't believe how quickly this tree went from being mostly green to that sickly shade of red.(This photo also is the one I used to show the opening view after six trees were cut. How ironic. I never dreamed the view was going to open again so soon.)

Here's how it looked in better days...one of three, labeled "3," and the tallest.

Mr. Lumberjack offered to take all three trees down. He says that it's only a matter of time. They may not even survive the summer. Our neighbor remains hopeful and so just the third tree will be felled. 

It sure smells like Christmas around here...