Metasequoia glyptostroboides

I planted a Dawn Redwood at the Farmhouse. It made no sense to do so, I know. There’s a decent chance it won’t survive. Metasequoia are only found naturally in China, though they have been grown successfully in the U.S. from time to time. I think it must be a desire on my part to leave some kind of legacy, even if it is only a tree. If it survives, it should grow rapidly, reaching 150 feet high and 15 feet in circumference in a hundred years. Right now it is about 5 feet tall, with a trunk hardly wider than a fat pencil. I built a wonky sort of wood and chicken wire cage to surround it and hopefully protect it from getting munched by the deer. So, it’s a tree in a display case.

We spent nine days at the Farmhouse last week, and though Brenda had to work remotely, I was able to take the time to recharge and get a few things done. I feel my energy is slowly returning from the surgical debacle of last winter. Aaron joined us for a few days and helped me stack a full cord of firewood. We have a small flowerbed outside the back door filled with Michigan native flowers. There was an empty space we filled with a single specimen of a cup plant, a sort of sunflower-like perennial. The other native plants are growing great guns, so I’m hoping the cup plant grows thick and tall.

For every task completed, another one rotates onto the to-do list. The corner of a deck joist appears to have rotted, allowing a roof support post to sink a half inch. I’d much rather find someone to fix it than fix it myself, but I don’t know if anyone will take on a job that small. If I do it, it will mean hours of fretting and mental engineering, lugging every tool I can imagine needing up north, and then estimating the time necessary to complete the job, multiplied by 5.

For those who follow such things (me), the sun has already risen as early as it will rise for this year and is just starting rise a bit later. Sunset will continue to be a half minute later every day until almost the end of the month. It feels like just about the time we get good and started with summer, we start to slide toward autumn again. Like yoked oxen, we live to work, only dimly aware that our work is doing nothing more than turning a great wheel, and we go round and round. Funny how we can lose things on this revolution and not be able to find them when we come around again.