Man, what a day! I swear, being an arborist in Ringsend is like riding a rollercoaster with no seatbelt. So, I roll outta bed, right? Sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinking about the trees I gotta check. I grab my coffee—strong enough to wake the dead—and head out.
First stop, the corner of Thorncastle St. and the Strand. There’s this massive oak, like, the size of a small car. I’m all pumped, ready to give it a good look. But then, bam! A seagull swoops down and steals my sandwich right outta my hand! Like, seriously? Who knew seagulls were such thieves? I’m standing there, mouth agape, while this feathered bandit flies off with my lunch.
Anyway, I get over it. I mean, it’s just a sandwich, right? So I start checking the oak. It’s got some serious rot. I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” I pull out my tools, and wouldn’t ya know it, my chainsaw won’t start. Ugh! I’m sweating bullets, cursing under my breath. I’m like, “Come on, you piece of junk!”
While I’m wrestling with the chainsaw, I hear this commotion down by the water. Turns out, it’s a bunch of kids playing football on the green by the river. They’re shouting, laughing, and just having a blast. I can’t help but smile. It’s moments like that that remind me why I love this job. Kids, man. They’re the best.
So, I finally get the chainsaw going. Thank the tree gods! I’m cutting away, and suddenly, I hear a loud crash. I look up, and a branch from the oak falls right next to me. I jump back like I’m dodging a bullet. My heart’s racing. I’m like, “Dude, that was close!”
After that little scare, I decide to take a break. I stroll down to the Ringsend Park. It’s a small spot, but it’s got this vibe, ya know? The flowers are blooming, and the smell of fresh grass is in the air. I sit on a bench, just chillin’. I pull out my phone to check the time, and guess what? I’ve got a million notifications. My buddy’s texting me about some pub quiz tonight. I’m like, “Yeah, count me in!”
But then, I remember I promised my sister I’d help her with her garden. Ugh! Family obligations, right? So, I head back to the job. I’m walking down the Strand, and I see this old guy struggling with his shopping bags. I rush over, help him out. He’s all grateful, and I’m like, “No worries, mate. Just doing my bit.”
Finally, I wrap up the day. I’m exhausted but happy. I head to the pub on the corner of Irishtown Rd. and grab a pint. I sit there, soaking it all in. The laughter, the chatter, the clinking of glasses. It’s the best way to end a crazy day.
As I sip my drink, I think about the oak, the kids, the old man. Ringsend, man. It’s got its quirks, but it’s home. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.