Life Will Go On

The deer that I wrote about watching a few days ago have been replaced. I now write my novels to the sound of chainsaws buzzing, trees falling, chirps of mini dozers with pinchers dragging the trees back to the certain death of the buzzing wood chipper.

I knew these days were coming. Since I moved here about three years ago, I've known that there was a drain project that required access to Walden Pond, the watershed for this area. I live on the pond's property. The record-breaking amounts of rainfall that have occurred all over the United States make these types of upgrades to storm drain systems imperative. When the project is completed, Walden Pond will be deeper and wider, better able to handle these record amounts of rainfall. New trees will take the place of the old, but I find myself unexpectedly sad to see that line of living trees and bushes removed. I know access to the pond is necessary to do the work needed to keep other trees, property, and people in this neighborhood safe from the devastating floods, like the ones that recently destroyed homes and lives in Tennessee, New York, and New Jersey.

Once the pipes have been laid and the dredging is done, the new trees will be planted. As they grow, the deer will return to their sheltering branches, my neighbor will sit with her dog in the shade they provide, and I will type on my computer in peace, watching it all.

Life will go on. But, right now, it is darn noisy.