Brushwood Cutting

It has taken me several weeks to gain the composure to compose this post.  Let me explain:

In the snowy weather with winds from the east and frozen ground our local powers that be sent out the hedge cutting machine to flail the boundaries of our park.  Such was the power of this mechanical beast that chips of wood landed on our back lawn or bounced against our patio windows.  My husband went out to look, sympathizing with the operative who had been given this task.  I stayed inside. 

A couple of days later in a slight thaw I went out to inspect the damage.  The person who operated the hedge cutting machine was driven by the need to complete the job.  In turn, pressure was transmitted to them from a supervisor with a tasks list, and to the supervisor, I surmise, by some person in a warm office with cuts to enforce and budgets to prune.

After my first 'recce' I decided to go back and drag all the broken off branches down to ground level, but not on to the public footpath, beloved of dog walkers, in case I landed myself in trouble.  I managed the length of the park from the entrance to our back 'wildlife area' a matter of some yards.  I then invited my husband to help. 

At that point I had the crazy idea of taking the secateurs and loppers to cleanly prune all the poor shrubs whose branches had been shredded along one side of the whole park.   My husband quickly dissuaded me pointing out that this was not my responsibility and that the people operating the bark chipping machine would shortly deal with the broken branches.  We compromised on the area behind our back garden only.

Now all the branches are on the ground, including those that had been cut through only partially where my husband had to use a saw.  The bark chippers have not arrived.  

In times past peasant farmers would coppice hazel for their tall straight poles; this renewable resource was part of their livelihood.  Now we just permit big machines to flail clumsily and inaccurately at them from a distance.  

I was angry but now I am resigned.  The tangle of elder and hazel branches I chopped and dragged is no longer blocking my view of the park.  It will eventually rot back into the ground.  There is still enough space in our hedge for the birds. I am sad this is all we can do.