We had a broken branch sticking out of our beloved white birch tree in the front year, my Willa Cather wife decided to saw it off, I insisted on holding the ladder (except for photo breaks).

She was careful about it, but felt quite at ease climbing up a tree with a saw and cutting the dead limb. “I bet you feel better, don’t you?” she asked the tree when it was done.

It was a pretty heavy limb, we took it out to the pasture so the donkeys could chew on it.

I’ve taken to calling her Tarzana, that name reflects her life and work here. I just want her to let me  hire somebody else to fix the broken slates on the roof.

The limb is gone.