Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Down

There are many trees that surround the Farm—especially in the very back, where the woods lies. At least there used to be.

On their walk, the Farmer looks from one to the other. “I think our trees are dying.”

His Wife frowns, but she sees the same thing as him. There are suckers at the base of most of their trees. Suckers means the trees are trying to find some way to live.

So, they in-vest-igate. That very day.
The Farmer does a search on the computer and shakes his head. He turns to his Wife. “Most of our trees are Ash, aren’t they?”

She nods. The woods are full of them.

“I thought so,” he replies. “Turns out there’s a beetle that’s killing all the Ash trees around here.”

“What will we do?” the Farmer’s Wife gasps. That means no more woods. And if there’s no more woods, they’ll be no more over-the-river-and-through-the-woods to be had on the Farm.

“We’ll just have to plant more trees.”

“But a proper woods takes years!” his wife exclaims. But it is no use exclaiming or arguing, because the beetles have made the decision for them. Their will be no more woods for the time being.

“…but…” the Farmer’s Wife’s eyes brighten. “There is all that wood. We could do something with it.”

The Farmer nods, considering it.

“We can get the Saw and make boards. And out of boards we can make all sorts of things!”

Because, you see, the Farmer’s brother bought the Saw from their friend, the Lineman. And he told both the Farmer and his Wife that they could use it any time they had the need of it.  

Well, now they had a need.

“We could make a tree house and a smoker, a…” She looks hopefully at the Farmer. “…a cottage perhaps?”

He barks a laugh. “We’ll see. But first, let’s start getting those trees down before they fall on their own and aren’t good for anything.”