Of Fingers and Foresters - Grape Expectations - page 80

He was a French Rambo with striking features and rippling muscles, dressed in combats
and dark glasses and drawing deeply on a rolled cigarette.
He assessed the tree from all angles.
'C'est le pire.'
'It's the worst' was a comment I had heard from many artisans in the build-up to a devis
but in this instance I trusted the man. This was not because of his exceptional physique, as
Sean later insinuated somewhat jokingly.
'You will have to hire a grosse grue ,' he said.
I didn't have a clue what a grosse grue was, but I was happy to hire whatever he liked. A
grosse grue , the dictionary told me later, was a large crane. Olivier promised to organise it
for the job, which he could do on Monday, which was in three days' time.
'Make sure no one is in the winery if the wind blows. The tree is dangerous.'
Just what I needed to hear facing into a full day's work in the winery.
When Olivier called later to let me know the price I noticed he never referred to a tree as
a tree. It was the chêne or the acacia or something more specific like le vieux chêne . I liked
it: it implied respect and gave our wounded trees, the old oak and the acacia, an identity. Or
was it just the way he said it? Fortunately, the cost of the removal of the oak and the repair
to the small part of the roof that had been broken by it would be covered by our insurance.
I had sent them photos of the tree and its situation and they had agreed that it should be
removed as fast as possible to avoid further damage. The acacia was alongside the winery
and it was hanging by a thread so it had to go too.
A little later Olivier called back.
'Make sure no one is in the winery on Monday afternoon,' he said.
This was essential, not merely for safety, but more particularly, for viewing. At the desig-
nated time Peta-Lynne, Ellie and I installed ourselves comfortably in garden chairs a safe
distance from our French Rambo live in action.
Olivier arrived wearing his signature combats, leather boots and dark glasses, now com-
plemented by his climbing harness and an attractive red headband. He was more good-
looking than I remembered. Peta-Lynne and I exchanged a glance.
John, experienced in all things 'tree', took one look at him and said dismissively, 'He looks
a bit of a cowboy.' Luckily Sean was now able to drive the car and had taken himself to the
hospital for his regular amputation check-up so we didn't have to listen to any other derog-
atory comments.
The enormous crane arrived, bringing to mind city skylines. Olivier attached its chains
to the base of the acacia. It would be the taster before the main feature. He quickly chain-
sawed the acacia at the base and leapt away as the crane lifted the 4-metre tree over our
6-metre-high barns and deposited it on the newly created tasting-room parking area. Sean's
mum and I almost burst into applause while Ellie reposed regally in her all-terrain buggy.