
COTANGENT - Articles by Daphne Cardillo |
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COTANGENT By Daphne Cardillo
Into a
pile of sticks
I like
cutting long branches of trees under the sun, with my right arm getting
stronger from playing tennis.
A thirty-minute slashing job under the heat could even substitute
for a one good game for it is so relieving after I bathed myself in
heavy sweat. And my
backhand slice is put into good use as each slashing stroke makes a
clean cut of a branch.
At the
back of my yard grow several malunggay plants that line the concrete
fence. The branches, with
their tiny leaves drape the air for my eyes to see, screening the roofs
and walls of houses from my view.
Having spent my childhood in the countryside, I need trees around
with their green foliage.
But living in the city with houses so close to each other, the malunggay
trees afford me a nuance of green, rising over twenty feet high without
blocking the sunlight into other people’s homes.
The
malunggay branches however spread so fast in a few months time that they
would need trimming every now and then.
And it was here that I discovered the enjoyable task of cutting
the branches, reducing what once looked like a forest into a pile of
sticks. While the slashing
job is a relieving form of exercise, stretching the muscles at your back
and strengthening your arms as you heavily perspire.
Once I
hired a neighbor to prune the branches but he did a messy job of leaving
rough edges on the trunk and destroying the orchids planted on the lower
portion of the malunggay plant.
So I took to task the trimming of the branches myself, expectant
of the fulfilling experience I derive from doing the job.
I even had to cut papaya trees that need to be felled, myself so
as not to leave much damage to the other plants grown in the yard.
Pruning
is an art, and a system in which you have to study the whole structure
of the plant to be able to trim it with proportion, leaving enough
branches for a good view yet cutting the unnecessary ones that have
grown in abundance. I
usually cut a big branch along the trunk with a saw so as to leave a
clean finish. The spreading
branches that dropped to the ground I later cut with a pointed bolo,
trimming first the extended small branch before chopping the main big
branch.
When
I’m really up to it, cutting the branches into small pieces is a
challenging and enjoyable task.
It feels good when you can cut clean a branch with just one sweep
of the bolo. At times, I’d
need three to four strokes to cut a big branch.
But normally, it would take only two slashing jobs and I like to
finish it with a backhand slice.
And when you cut the small thin branches with a clean, swift
stroke; the newly-cut end would swirl up in the air before landing on
the ground.
Last
week though, I hired someone to cut the main big branches of the
malunggay plants. They have
grown so big and copious that it became a daunting task to disentangle
them from the main trunk.
But cutting the felled branches into small pieces I reserved for myself.
And it was only this morning that I took to task of reducing what
once looked like a forest into a pile of sticks.
For
when I first saw the felled branches sprawled on the ground, they
occupied half of my yard in a tangled mess.
I was overwhelmed at the sight that I postponed cleaning them up
for another day, and another, and another.
Then after a week of lying dead on the ground, the branches
looked like skeletons, a bit dried and brittle, with leaves long gone.
It cleared my view.
So this
morning I started cutting them into small pieces, about two feet in
length, and made two piles—one big pile for the numerous small branches
and another for the bigger ones.
I started cutting at the less dense portion to have a sense of
accomplishment of having cleared part of the yard.
I cut and cut and cut, making small sticks from out of a forest,
and the smallest branch would swirl up in the air before landing on the
ground.
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