There are some beautiful birches on my father’s property in Elizabethtown. Dad likes to stave off their inevitable demise at the hands of an ice storm by lashing them to each other. Safety in numbers, I suppose. I’d say that about 50% of visits find me getting sent up a tree for some arboreal chore. On this particular occasion my charge was to install a thicker rope. Mission accomplished and the birches will stand tall for at least a few more years.

(But how is Robert Frost going to be reincarnated as a swinger of birches if the trees aren’t allowed to bend?)