Friday, December 4, 2009

Photo Phriday: Mount Jasmine

There are some benefits to being under emerald ash borer quarantine.

Arborists, township road crews, and the utility company guys who turn street trees into hideous Suessian lollipops are not allowed to move wood chips very far. It can be challenging for a tree guy to find a legal place to dump a truckload of what I consider primo hardwood mulch.

The foster kennel is already mulched inside, but the outside run, which was originally turf, was starting to edge towards mucky.

So a while back, when I saw the big orange Asplundh truck parked outside a local mechanic's shop, I nipped in to see if the tree guy was there.

He wasn't, but the shop belongs to Professor Chaos' assistant fire chief (because, small town, if you haven't already got that). Neil said he'd mention it to the guy, and I put a note on his window with a map and phone number.

About a week later, this enormous truck just appeared. It could not have taken on even one more wafer-thin mint of a woodchip.

I opened up the side of the run of the foster kennel, and the guys dumped all the chips in.

Trouble is, I pulled an intercostal muscle last week, and what I certainly cannot do is rake. Or fork. Or be useful in any way.

My cunning plan is to lock up Jasmine and Cole for a few hours of puppy romping at a time, and get them to distribute the pile.

So far they seem willing and energetic, but are not making much headway.

Barry White isn't bothered by it, but doesn't see much point in the kidnicks' because it is there philosophy.

Wednesday night when I went out to bring Jasmine and Barry White inside for the night, she was curled up in a ball on top, fast asleep.


  1. Can't stand Asplundh. They butcher trees for the power company. Our arborist hates them. Glad you were able to get something good out of them.

    Our next-door neighbor had an ash tree taken down because it was dying, and had to go through a lot of red tape because of what they suspected it was from. The man who owns the arborist company we used took one look at it and said "Nope, it's dying because of that massive wall that was just built right next to it." Our maple trees are also dying because of the bulldozers that ran over their roots too many times per day for a few months. Our one ash tree and our elms have neither bugs nor Dutch Elm disease...just a case of Old Age.

    I can only imagine that when they all go, we will try to mulch them as well. I've always wondered how people can waste fresh woodchips and then go out later and buy the bagged stuff.

  2. Very neat for you!

    Is there any problem with the chips being sharp or splintery? Sometimes woodchips are not a very pleasant material.

    I'm guessing the fresh wood is composting some which would make it warm to sleep on.

  3. The stately old white ash in our front yard here (or near here, anyway, where I grew up) finally succumbed to a white fly infestation years and years ago. The funny thing was that years after it had been hacked to bits and the stump ground down, we started getting these invincible volunteers growing up in the back yard. I tried poisoning them, cutting out the roots ... nothing worked. Finally we hired landscapers to do the dirty work, and they seem to have succeeded ... but strangely, they put gravel over the grave site.

    Me, I'm waiting for a Poltergeist moment.

  4. Toss a mess of chickens in there. Mine do a bang-up job of spreading mulch in the coop and yard. And even if there isn't a lot in it for them, they seem to enjoy the work.

  5. I second Viatecio's distaste for the tree mutilations.


I've enabled the comments for all users; if you are posting as "anonymous" you MUST sign your comment. Anonymous unsigned comments will be deleted. Trolls, spammers, and litigants will be shot.