We are about to lose our tree. This tree is what sold me on the house, it was so magnificent and beautiful 14 years ago. It was an overgrown apricot that never produced much fruit. The fruit it did produce was so high and so small that it was just weaponry for the squirrels to lob at us when we spent too much time in their space. The tree shaded the whole back deck, half the yard and much of the house. I used to leave Large and Small on the deck in their sandbox in the comfort of this tree while I went inside to do the dishes.
When we moved it, the tree was already cabled, holding it together in case of a storm. We've had it trimmed every year by the same company the previous owners used. The guy who comes out grew up taking care of this tree, he has admired it, held it together, trimmed it and has done all he can to keep it alive these past 5 or 6 years. Borers moved it and started killing the tree from the middle, there is no insecticide for this. Sap would come out in big globs as they did their work each summer, but we held out hope each year for just one more year.
As a fruit tree, it branched off into segments from one center point. My 80 year old neighbor, who has lived in the same house all her life, remembers that the original house owner chopped it down 50 years ago, only to have it grow back. This is a tree with staying power! The segments branched out over the deck, over my neighbors' driveway, over the addition to our house and over the back yard. The section over the neighbors driveway was the first to go, painfully cut off when nothing grew or bloomed on it. Then came parts of the sections over the back end of the house and the deck. Now the only live portions, which bloomed as beautifully as the picture taken four years ago, are the ones over the yard. These are straining against the cables, leaning on the power line. The dead portions are poised over the roof of the house. It's no longer an option to just nip off the dead bits and hope for another year. We've had our last year.
Part of the mourning of this tree is the digging up of the native (and some rare) wildflowers we planted underneath. Unfortunately, Chicago still thinks it is Bombay and we are in the midst of another monsoon.
Each time the tree was trimmed, it left a little hole in the canopy and took a while to grow back in. It was sad each year. These past few years have been like body part amputations, but we grew used to the new shape and hoped for the best. Now we will have an entirely new space in our lives, as unfamiliar and it will be unwanted.
3 comments:
What a beautiful post. And I can feel for your loss, as we have a big, gorgeous tree in our backyard that shades the entire thing and, in my opinion, makes the backyard. But it, too, has already been cabled for years, and I know the day will come when it has to go. Hubby has been pushing for the day sooner rather than later ("You want it to fall on the garage?"), but I keep holding out for one more year, one more year.
Thanks for your comment. I've had so many people tell me they read my post and felt strongly about their trees. My daugher and I weeped moost of the day about our loss. My poor mother, who has vascular dementia, remembered our spectacular tree and was sad for us. I hope yours continues to live and that you consult with an arborist regularly. I know my arborist wanted to keep it alive, but he also knew when to act. Quickly to save the house.
It's that whole ebb and flow of life thing, right?
very godo
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