Sad week: we had to take down the giant maple tree between the house and my chicken shed office.
The tree was planted by my mother’s foster parents before she was born, so it’s somewhere in the range of eighty years old. It’s been leaning, and sagging, and during the last storm almost half of it split off…and it seemed pretty clear that one night it was either going to flatten my office or my father’s study. (Or the propane tanks.)
So the tree guys came from Richmond (“Boy, you guys are WAY out here, aren’t you?”) with their impressively huge tree-removal equipment,
and delimbed the tree,
which took most of the morning and considerably delayed the start of the day’s schoolwork, since everybody had to go and watch.
Ben used my camera to document the final fall of the trunk, which you can see by clicking on the “Tree down” link below, if you’re so inclined.
Now there’s a lot more afternoon sunlight in my office. Which is fine. But I miss the tree.
Perhaps a modest rite for the passing of such a grand tree would be in order. Maybe a sprinkling of autumn leaves on the stump (unless that’s been chewed up and spit out already) or a planting of a Charlie Brown twig–hard wood, please–to honor the life that was and the life that continues.
And you could plant it in a spot perhaps not so perilously close to explosive gas canisters.
We had to take down a 250 year old oak when we moved to Lynchburg. I’m still not mouning.
I can’t actually write today…
“I’m still IN MOURNING” is what I meant to say..