The guardian and his last chance. Realization

XXX

I stand in the fruit-tree garden. The hard work on pruning and cuting down some of the trees, I have infront of me. As luck has it, it is the right time to do this. 1 it is autumn. 2 the wind is not blowing. On my torso I have red checkered shirt, in cotton and wool mixture. The pants are a working pair in tough dimen fabric. The forenoon have just got past it´s halfway point.

The late morning, I used to look at the barn´s toolshed. In it I found saws both small and big. And loppers and secateurs. With my finds, I could move on to fix up the wild bushes and trees in the fruit garden. Or more right, fruit grove. I put the tools I need, together with my axe on handdrawn cart. The cart is made that it can be pushed by a person, or drawn by a small horse or ox. My own streangth is enough, for now atleast. The cart I stand, between the herbplots and the place for todays work. I need it close by, but not so close that it will be in the way. Or there is a risk that I destroy it, when a tree come crashing down. The bushes I can take later. But the trees are most of concern. Becouse they stand to tall and to close to each other. And the different kinds, have been mixed under the years that gone past, without anyone looking after them. I spit in my hands.

"Best to start this!" I say outloud. Making a small echo.

I take up a reel of smallbanded cotton band, colored red. What the band is for? You don´t know? It is so I can plan my work. I will mark which trees I will spare. The red is a color that are easy to detect against the trees brown and grey bark. I have to duck under low hanging branches. f**k, dubbel f**k. This will be a great deed. I realize this. Some of the trees have snaked themself around eachothers, twisted their branches together. Slow I examines the trees. With my knowledge and the powers of my kins bloodline, I have soon picked out what will be saved. I made the choice to leave 2 older and 2 younger trees from each kind. The old as they give more fruits. The young are to replace the old in a few years. I fight my way out of the entangled branches and trees. I huf as I walk back to the cart and the tools. Slow I leand down and grip a big flask of water. I take on big mouth worth of the still cold water. In my mouth I let it swirl around before I swallow. By doing so, I cold down my head a small bit. I breath in thru my nose and let it out thru my mouth. Then I pick up the bigger of the two saws I had choosen. Together with the lopper and my axe it is enough for the starting work. Thru the branches I cut a way, with the lopper. By doing so I get a better view, of the trees. And can plan the felling, better. Much better indeed. I chose the first tree to get cut down. The axe starting the work with ease. I axed out a wedge from the trunk. I sit down on my knee, to look at the cut I made.  The cut is deep enough so I can see the outer rim of the heartwood. I rise up. I test the tree, by pushing it with one hand. The tree is moving, but not falling. My eyes go up the trunk, examine the branches. To see if any of the branches are hooked. I nod from what I see. No, absolutely none hooked. I go down on my right knee and streatch out my left leg to the side. Balanced like that I pick up the saw. I check its teeth. They are sharp, and big enough to get the work done without hooking or getting stuck. Then I start to saw the wood across the axe cut. I let all of my torso work on the saws movement. Putting weight behind every pull and push. When the sound of wood creaking, I jump fast up on my feets. And step away. As I know that many that works on felling trees get hurt, by the bounce. The bounce comes from the top, the crown hiting the ground and the bottom fly up. It will conect to your chin. If it goes bad, real bad, you will not step away from it alive.

But this tree didn´t bounce so bad. As it had a big crown, with many branches. Before cutting the log apart, I debranch it. I use my axe for that. The log I split to 4´11 long pieces. They are just the best length for drying the wood. The logs I put in the wagon. After putting the pieces I can use. I gather all the small branshes together in a pile. I will burn all of the branches, when the winter is here. I don´t want to start a fire, right now. The couse is that I don´t want to worry of a grassfire. I get a small frown on my face, as I look at the ground. The pear tree I had felt, was filled with fruit. I pick one up. It is firm, must be a late kind. I sigh. Becouse it is a pity to not use these. I ransack my memory. A basket I am certain I had seen somewhere. Then it hit me. I bolted to the barn. Right inside the doors are a small pile of baskets. I take all of the baskets in my arms. If I find somemore, fruits. I put the baskets on the other side of the cart. One of them I pick out. It is made of wicker. As are them all. Softly I put the pears in the basket. The bad ones I left on the ground. When I finished, there were two full baskets worth. Those baskets I put infront of the cart. And again I step in under the trees. I pick out another pear tree, to fell. A fast glance on the branches, even this tree has much fruit. But it has to go. So I can pick them better next year. Like this I work untill dusk started to fall. Felling, debranching, cutting apart and picking fruit.

I streatch my body, after I loaded up the cart. At the end of the day, I had cut down 4 trees. 2 pear, 1 apple and 1 cherry. After securing the wood, I put up the baskets of fruits. All at all I have gathered 4,5 basket pear and 1 of apples. They must be of a winter breed. They will hold long time in the underground storage. I step infront of the cart. My hands grip the handle. One push, and the cart start to roll behind me. The cart I take to the barn. On the northside of the building, I stack the logs and the useable wood. I restock the cart with the fruit. And roll it to the underground storage. I am glad that the storage was unharmed by the fight and fire. I open the door, and put the stop down. With the door locked open, I start to put down the fruits. The air inside is good to hold the fruits fresh. With the fruit put away, I leave the storage. Munching on a pear, I walk in to my home. I flick on the lights. I know that I hate the modern world. But I like how Jacob, had done this cabin. It is modern, but not so modern as most others. There is electricity, indoor plumbing and many other positive and good things. He even had a landline installed. If, IF, I wanted to contact anyone. And a small book with numbers. I give the phone a look, before my stomach rumbles. As it did, I realize how hungry I am. To the kitchen I walk. I put on a pot with water. On the meantime I get out chickenlegs, bellpepper, green onion, garlic. I debone the legs. Slicing up both the veggies and the meat. The garlic I smash with the knifes flatside, before cutting it. Just as the water start to boil, I put on a pan. In the pan I put butter. As I wait for the butter to get golden, I put a handfull of rice in the water. I steer the rice once, before putting the lid on and put the heat down. The butter is hot. I throw in the veggies and tender chickenleg meat. As it fries I add cummin, whitepepper, salt, turmeric and a few scratches of cinnamon bark. With one eye on the cooking and frying, I take out heavy cream. The smells hit my nose. And my stomach rumble its approvement. I pour down the white cream, in to the pan. As I steer, the cream turn yellow. At the same time as the stew are done, so are the rice. I take all of it off the stove. Giving the food a hungry look. In a bit of hurry I take out a deep plate. I poured up rice on the plate. Over the white fluffiness, I poured the stew. With my food done, I take out a spoon and fill a tankard with water. I ate my food on the sofa. Just as I digged in to the food, the phone rang. I growl angry, I shovel in some spoons worth in my mouth. Ignoring the phone. But it doesn´t stop its f*****g ringing. And I can feel how my anger rises. Something I hate, HATE WITH BURNING FIRE, is to be disturbed when I eat. I put down my food on the coffee table. I growl deeply, all the way to the bloody phone. I pick it up. "Dragol here." My voice were filled by my anger.

"Dragol, good I got hold of you." I knew the voice. It was Eric. "It is Eric." I knew it."I am not disturbing you?"

I felt how my eye started to twitch by his honest question. "I had just started to eat my dinner, but I have time." The sigh that came I could not hinder.

"Sorry, Dragol. Truly." I heard the sincerity in his voice. "It will be fast."

I sigh. "Ask on."

"You know Millard? he asked low.

I remember the name. "He is the owner of the forest mill, right?"

"Yes, yes. Indeed he is." Eric said. "He has a big order coming up." Alright we are coming some were. "The order is around a hundred pear and apple tarts."

I feel a bit confused. "So what do you want, Eric?" I growled as I have started to loose my patience.

"Alright, alright." Eric says, his voice being a bit submissive. "The order is acute, and with short notice. He got the news today." I felt that Eric was hurried. "The deadline in three days." I growl into the phone, sounding out the low patience I have left. "Millard needs fruit, Dragol. And if my memory is good, you have some trees that are producing winter pear and apple."

I sigh. "I will see what I can gather together."

He gave me his thanks before he hang up. I went back to the sofa. To finish my food. That has gone a bit colder. Still were the taste as good.