tree tribute

My Favorite Tree is Gone

/ mariezhuikov / 6 Comments
My favorite tree is now a stump.

My favorite tree is now a stump.

It took a long time for me to come to terms with cutting down a maple tree in my yard that was dying (see “Tribute to a Tree” from 2013), but I did it. The pileated woodpeckers had continued their pounding until the branches sported several foot-high holes (which, by the way, were not used for nesting). This spring, its leaves were sparse.

My tree was suffering and it was time to go before a strong wind or ice storm broke its limbs and endangered my shed, garage, or house. After procuring several price quotes, I chose a local company, which came sooner than I expected. I arrived home one day for lunch to see chunks of it carted away on a flatbed truck, the core of it as brown and rotten as a criminal’s heart.

What my tree used to look like.

What my tree used to look like.

I thought about making the trunk into some sort of statue or using the wood for a memento, but just the disposal of the tree was so expensive, I couldn’t think of doing anything so fancy. Plus the wood was rotten, so whatever was made from it probably wouldn’t have lasted. I counted the rings on the stump before it was ground up. The tree was at least 90 years old. I said a few words over the stump in remembrance.

Good-bye, favorite tree. I’m going to plant two young trees in the yard in your honor.

Tribute to a Tree

/ mariezhuikov / 3 Comments

Old Maple
My favorite tree is dying. Chunks of it lay scattered around my yard, courtesy of an industrious pileated woodpecker with its jackhammer-strong bill and bright red topknot.

The tree is a maple of some sort; probably a sugar maple, maybe a red maple. I haven’t wanted to define it in that way so I haven’t tried to figure it out. The tree grows at a slight angle, as if a north wind blew continuously for decades. My shed and garage bask in its shade.

Up until about ten years ago, its branches used to almost touch the second floor of the house. After a ball of lightning entered and toured around my sleeping baby’s bedroom as his father put him in his crib, those branches are gone. We decided to cut off the lightning travel route in case it does strike twice. Thankfully, the lightning ball exited without hurting anyone; just scared us real good and fried several electrical appliances. The baby even slept through it all.

The tree still bears a scar down its middle from that strike. Squirrels climb it and knock off bark pieces. In summer, its leaves are deformed with a shag carpet of red bumps caused by gall mites.

I know the maple is old and it’s on its way out, but I love that tree and don’t want to see it go. It’s one of the reasons I bought my house. On summer days, I sit on the bench beneath it and play with my dog. In fall, I lie inside on the couch appreciating its brilliant colors. The tree greets me on cold winter mornings when I shovel the back porch.

Come spring I will need to cut it down to keep it from falling on my garage or shed. I’m not looking forward to that day. I suppose we will find someone to use the wood and then plant a new tree, or several, to take its place. I’ll move some young maples that grow behind the shed. I’m sure they must be the old maple’s children. But it won’t be the same. They will be small and it will take years before they form a magnificent shape.

I feel like we’ll need to perform a ceremony of thanks for the maple and to mark its passing. If you have any ideas, please let me know.