Chopped

The old maple tree on our boulevard has been declining since we moved in.  Every year there are more dead branches, and less leaves as it straggled on.  The leaves were so pretty, though, so we just kept on enjoying that tree.  However, since it si a boulevard tree, it is really the responsibility of the city, and when the power company came through our neighborhood trimming branches away from power lines last summer, the maple on the corner was marked with a big, orange X in garish fluorescent paint.  We knew the end was near.

Nothing happened all through the fall and winter, randomly last week a couple of tree trimming trucks drove up early in the morning.  Chainsaws roared and they had that tree down in chunks in no time flat.  The sections of trunks made enormous, dull thumps as they landed on the ground.  The final section of the main trunk landed so hard the house shook.

I have a ridiculous sentimentality for big trees, and I always feel so sad when they have to be chopped down. It took all those years to grow a tree, and it can be chopped down in less than an hour.  Thankfully we’ve planted several new trees in our yard since we moved here, and they are doing well.