Barn's burnt down—now I can see the moon

Last Thursday I woke to the sound of chain saws. That's not unusual, we live in a dense urban neighborhood. As I lay there thinking about what I needed to accomplish that day the loud chipper noise started up. It sounded close, but then it's so hard to tell as the sound bounces around between our homes. It wasn't until Andrew left for work and I said goodbye at the backdoor that I realized it didn't just sound close, it was close! 

It was around 9 am when I walked into the back garden and saw the activity happening just acrost the fence to the west. There was someone up there cutting in the neighbor's laurel. It was odd that I hadn't heard anything from the neighbor, she'd let us know the last two times work was happening. I had a bad feeling. 

This photo was taken about an hour later (10ish), the crew was working from right to left. The back of the neighbor's garage was now uncovered and completely visible, as was their house behind our bamboo screen. How much was going to be removed from the area on the left half of the photo? Damn. I went back into the house feeling nauseous.

This next photo was taken at roughly 11:30. The height of the laurel had been reduced (you can see more of the Douglas Fir trunk) and the mass had been thinned. BUT, there was still a bit of a screen. Would it stay?

As I walked back into the house I remembered something I had heard just the day before, at the Oregon Association of Nurseries Farwest Tradeshow. Katie Tamony gave a talk titled "How to See Differently," and she shared a quote from Mizuta Masahide, a 17th century Japanese poet and samurai; "Barn's burnt down—now I can see the moon."

At face value that quote seems like a ridiculous "think positively!" type of sentiment. "Sure your car was totaled in that hit and run, but now you can walk the 10 miles each way to work and get that exercise you need!" But that's not how Katie was framing it, it wasn't just to be positive, but to look at things differently. Here's the list she shared, the Masahide quote fell under #1, never get used to anything. Once again I had gotten used to the green wall that hid our neighbors house, even though it wasn't mine and I had no control over it.

I wouldn't see the moon in the new empty space, but I would see more of the evening sun.

And I have great views of the hacked off trunks of the laurel.

I was trying to stay out of the back garden while the cutting went on, but I really needed to get out there and water a few things as we were headed to 94F that day. When I came over to spray the bromeliads in the southwest corner one of the workers was standing on top of our fence, cutting on the neighbor's hazelnut tree—the trunk visible on the right. He asked if a branch from that tree (or from the Doug Fir they were going to work on next) ended up in our yard could he jump the fence to come get it?

You can imagine my reaction. I stood there looking at him, trying to decide what I could say that wouldn't be "ARE YOU AN IDIOT!?! Where do you see an area where a branch could fall and not cause significant damage?" In all honestly I can't remember exactly what I said but I think I somehow managed to communicate that no branches were to fall in our yard. Period. And none did, at least no full branches, lots of pieces did, along with laurel leaves. 

Here's what they left behind of the hazelnut. That looks like a professional job, right?

There was a piece of a Doug Fir branch over these plants, I should have taken a photo before I picked it up, but even then laurel leaves remain.

Stepping back further along the fence line, noting how much sun is now falling on a previously shaded area.

Maybe the bamboo will grow a little more upright? Maybe the mahonia and aspidistra won't mind the sunny 94 degree days to come (2 or 3 more were in the forecast and thus I watered this area very deeply).

Once the workers were done cutting and chipping and creating chaos they then cleaned up the mess they'd made on the opposite side of the fence, finishing off with a gas powered blower. I wish you could have seen the cloud of crap (leaves, conifer needles and SO MUCH DUST) they blew into my garden. Everything was coated. I had a friend coming by for a garden visit that afternoon, so I hosed off the plants, wiped down the furniture, and used my battery powered blower in an attempt to clean things up. I was feeling pretty horrible about the garden by the time he arrived. Thankfully, as good plant friends do, he ignored the ugly and we had a fine visit.

In fact while we sat on the patio chatting a hummingbird dove down into the newly open area and fed at these tiny lepismium flowers. Would we have seen this moment of wonder if the area above the fence hadn't been cleared? Would the hummingbird have seen the flowers? Was this my moon? (see above)

I don't know. Obviously I will be reframing how I see this area, at least until the laurel starts to grow back, which it will. I am thankful that window-obscuring mass of it was left in place, but I really would have appreciated knowing this was coming. I would never dream of contracting for work that so changed a neighbor's space (and trashed it in the process) without telling them it was happening.

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