So, out I go, into the, thankfully light, rain. I examine the debris, push the branch about a bit and then go fetch my saw. No chain-saw for us pure-of-heart Nordic types. No, no. What this job needs is the vaunted Swede Saw. (So named by Norwegian grandfather, likely because of the number of Swede loggers in Northern Minnesota back in the early part of the 20th century.)
I huff and I puff and I hack that branch into component parts. Now there's a big pile of branch in the backyard. And that's not even counting the smaller branches that were blown off other trees.
Sweaty, tired and needing of more sleep now.