My Poor Trees

A windy day is great, usually. It keeps the bugs, heat and humidity to a minimum and I get lots of work done. But sometimes the wind gets way too high and confident and it decides to take on my trees. Sometimes the trees win but sometimes they don't. After years of doing battle with the winds and the seasons a tree will finally succumb and lose a large bough or even collapse completely.

I was in garden trying to convince the weeds I had the upper hand when I heard the all too familiar sound of the splitting of wood accompanied by a groan as the branch let go. I went to investigate and found that a trunk of a tree had split right where it forks, way up high. It was a big bough, if planted, it would have looked like a well established tree.The only reason it hadn't fallen was because other branches were holding it up. If those smaller, sturdier branches hadn't been able to keep the branch up, it would have crashed into the roof but not before bringing down our electrical wire with it. Sigh, time to call the tree topper.

So the tree topper came and looked around and decided there were a few trees that needed trimming and one that needed to come down. All things I knew but chose to ignore. I love my trees. They are big and leafy and offer the greatest shade ever. Things are cooler under the trees the way air conditioning could never match. The trees are guardians and protectors of the homestead. When we were looking for a place, we saw oodles and oodles of farms with acres of land and not a tree in sight. I didn't realize what was missing until we saw this place: Trees, Large, established, flourishing, glorious trees.

This house was built around 1885 so I'm figure some of these trees must be closing in on being a century old. The house needed major repair and there was a lot less land then we would have liked, but it had the most magnificent trees. So when one breaks or falls, the sound of the pistol shot crack of wood breaking away reverberates in my heart. As I have said, I love my trees and hate to see one succumb to age and wind.

The tree topper was willing to do the work and to chop and block the wood. The price was actually about the same as what we would have paid for the wood if we were buying it for the furnace. He said he'd come Tuesday. Islanders are a dear lot, they do the work well and go the extra mile cheerfully. What they aren't are timely, they'll say "Tuesday" but fail to mention what week or month (or year) the Tuesday is in. So Tuesday came and went, so did the next and next and next. We weren't surprised. After a month or so,we figured we'd give him a little reminder and he was here within the week.

So my trees are topped, trimmed or taken down completely. In other words, butchered. I do take comfort in knowing what remains is stronger. And I don't have to worry about one falling on the house for a while. I love my trees, but I love my house too.

And that wind which proved to be too much for my tree? Well, it brought clouds and rain and generally a miserable day. And then it left a gift for my eyes and my heart right above of two of my beloved trees.