Our across-the-street neighbor, Paul, has (now, had) two 75- to 80-foot tall oak trees in the front yard. There were a lot of galls on the trees, and he didn’t like all the wasps that were hanging around his yard. Galls form when gall wasps lay their eggs on the branches of the tree. The galls girdle the branch and are basically the tree’s reaction to the presence of insects. Here’s a picture of what the galls look like.

Paul decided to cut down both trees. He told us that he and his son were planning to take the first tree down last week. He said they’ve rented equipment and taken down trees in the past, and would do it again. After our conversation with Paul, Ted and I went home, figuratively scratching our heads. That was a mighty big tree to fell unless you’re a professional, so we hoped Paul knew what he was doing. He did. He called a professional tree service to do the job instead.

It took the four-man professional crew four days to do the work. On Day One, they roped one guy and sent him up the tree to cut off the limbs. Before cutting, each limb was roped to the other oak tree so it could be eased down, rather than dropped. The limbs were huge!! I’m not sure what they’ll rope the limbs of the second tree to when Paul takes that one down later this summer. The cutter guy and his chainsaw worked upward until only a few smaller limbs were left at the top. That took all day.

On Day Two, the guys took down the tree trunk in large chunks, beginning at the top. After felling the final piece of the trunk, the second day’s work ended. Ted and I were not at home to watch the process, but that evening, we met our next-door neighbors as they were leaving the restaurant we were entering. The first thing they said to us was, “Hi, neighbors!” The second thing was, “Did your house shake when that tree trunk came down?” Because we weren’t home when it happened, they described it to us. They said the last portion of that huge, heavy trunk fell so hard, it was like an earthquake, and shook all the walls and floors in their house!

The tall tree in the photo below is the other one Paul is going to remove. It’s smaller than the now missing tree. Look at the size of those trunk pieces! The stump doesn’t show in my photo, but it was more than three feet in diameter. And Paul thought he and his son could handle that??!! It’s a good thing they opted out of the do-it-yourself method.

On the next day, Day Three, the crew came back with a claw, a piece of heavy equipment with jaws, to pick up the chunks and put them into a dump truck.

Here’s a closer look at the pieces of the tree trunk. For scale, there’s a tree crew member cleaning up debris at the garage door.

On Day Four, a guy came with a stump grinder. It took him between two and three hours to grind the huge stump. Now, this is all that’s left of the over 40-year-old, tall, oak tree.

Kathy and Annette arrived at our house for lunch on Father’s Day, and Kari and Theo arrived a bit later to spend the afternoon with us. We had lots of fun and good conversation (with scotcheroos) until dinner time. Then we headed for pizza at Dewey’s. Because of the different arrival times, we traveled in a caravan of four cars–ours, Kari’s, Theo’s, and Kathy and Annette’s. I was the leader and managed to set a pace that allowed all of us to stay together on the roads, because not everyone knew the way to Dewey’s from our house. Dean met us at the restaurant, giving us seven people who came in five cars. Wow!

The girls’ families treated Ted and me to dinner and we enjoyed more group conversation as we ate. Too soon, it was time for Kathy and Annette to start their (roughly) three-hour drive home, but it was a good day with our family and a great way to celebrate our dads. Dean and Ted, you two guys are the best!

Ted and I celebrated our 56th wedding anniversary with a two-day event this year.

A number of years ago, when we didn’t know what to buy each other for birthday and anniversary gifts, we realized that we’ve reached a point in our lives that allows us to buy what we want when we want it, rather than waiting to receive it as a gift from each other. We decided to skip birthday and anniversary gifts and to treat ourselves three times a year to dinner at our favorite restaurant–Bentley’s, at the Lake of the Ozarks. It’s nearly a three-hour drive to Bentley’s and we drive, eat, and drive home on the same day (we’re night owls). It’s not fun to drive that far in crummy weather, so we check the forecast to see which day near our anniversary date will have the nicest weather. This year, it was Tuesday. We had our usual delicious meal and, as always, as we were driving home, we told each other that the meal and the staff (who we know well after all these years) are worth every minute of the drive.

Usually, that’s the extent of our anniversary celebration, but this year was different. Our anniversary fell on the same day as the “No Kings” nationwide protests, and we decided to attend our first protest. I never attended a protest in the 1960s because I am far less brave than those who did. I did not want to go to jail (do not pass go; do not collect $200), nor did I want to be beaten with a billy club, fired on with a fire hose, or corralled by a martial dog. The “No Kings” protest at our local mall looked much safer than the Vietnam and civil right protests, so we went. It was a large, happy crowd that stretched about a half-mile along the sidewalk, but the traffic was backed up farther than that. We picked a good protest for a starter. Nationally, an estimated 5 million people participated.

Later, I saw this protester in my news feed and, if I’d made a sign for the protest, it would have had a picture of Elvis with a caption that said “the only American king.” (Long-time Elvis fan here.)

The protest ended at 1:30, so Ted and I ran a few minor errands and then had hot fudge sundaes to celebrate our day.

Even though we’d had a fantastic anniversary dinner at Bentley’s earlier in the week, we didn’t think we should cook or do dishes on this special day, so we ordered a carry-out pizza, lit our anniversary candle (a wedding gift from our florist with instructions to burn it every year on our anniversary, which we’ve done), and watched the PBS movie of the week–Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Man Who Knew Too Much.”

We had a great anniversary and we’re looking forward to the next 56 years together. 🙂

My friend, Liz, and a friend of hers have season tickets to performances at Stages, the theater at the Kirkwood Performing Arts Center. Unfortunately, Liz’s friend was ill and could not attend the June performance. She generously told Liz to gift her ticket to someone else, and Liz asked me if I’d like to join her for lunch and the play. I said “yes.”

We started with lunch at Café Provencal. Liz promised me a “very European experience” with delicious food. I enjoyed it so much, I can’t wait to take Ted there so he can enjoy it too. The restaurant has lots of outdoor dining, and the weather was nice, but the restaurant sits at the side of a very busy street with lots of traffic noise, so we opted for indoor seating. The decor was very French. We each had a salad and (are you ready for it?) French onion soup. We agreed that it was the most delicious French onion soup either of us has ever had. The best word we could think of to describe it was “depth”–a depth of flavor that provided a taste of substance far beyond water plus the usual ingredients. (I should be a food critic.) I’m going to order the soup again when Ted and I go there, just to repeat that gastronomic experience.

Stages is only a few blocks from the restaurant and we had time to enjoy ourselves in one of the lounge-type seating areas before the doors opened for the performance. It’s an intimate theater (read “small”) with free adjacent parking and only 529 seats. (529? Really? One more seat would make a nice round number.) Our seats were in the first row, center, of the balcony.

The play was titled “Murder for Two.” The “two” refers to the fact that there are only two performers–and they were both outstanding. Together, they play 13 roles and the piano. The plot is a musical farce about a small-town police officer who dreams of becoming a detective. When a Great American Novelist is murdered, the officer jumps at the chance to prove he has the skills to be promoted to detective. He works with his partner (the other actor), and they discover who the killer is–more by accident than skill. It was fun. The two men played the piano throughout the performance–sometimes individually, sometimes together–and sang songs that provided plot exposition.

The restaurant was charming, lunch was delicious, the play was fun, and time with Liz?–priceless. That’s what friends are for.