The death of a tree....

What do you see here?

Apparently, you should see imminent danger.
I didn't.
I still don't.

If I had time to think, I would have seen Jean Craighead George's book My Side of the Mountain.  I didn't, though. I didn't have time to think.

The City of Fort Wayne tree trimmers were in our neighborhood this morning, which honestly surprised me.  The trees were trimmed just last year.  And, to be candid, I loathe the approach the City takes:  lop off any branch hanging over the street.  The trees are left lopsided and ugly.

Were I able to go back in time, I would have awoken before the canopy of this tree was removed and gone out to put my body at the base of it so that its wanton destruction was prevented.  Even if this "cut" does make the tree unsafe, I strongly believe that the City Arborist should be the one to determine the removal of a mature tree.  If the City does have a set of criteria for emergency removal, I firmly believe that this tree did not meet it.

When I saw the destruction of my neighbor's tree out my window, out I went in my pajamas and Breath Right strip, asking why the tree was being cut down.  The first of the two-man crew said he was new to the job and had no idea.  The second man pointed to the "cut" and said the tree was dangerous.

I told him that the tree was not marked for removal, had enjoyed a glorious spring, summer, and fall display this year, and gave no indications of ill-health.  He replied that he could cut down any tree he wanted to on an emergency basis.

There was no emergency here.  The tree was not leaning.  The tree had not displayed a single dead branch.  The canopy limbs strewn about the yard were green at the cuts and had the beginnings of buds, as do many trees around here.

I wept.
My neighbor is bereft.

For the twenty five years she has lived in the house, the tree has stood there.   When her late husband was deployed in Afghanistan, the neighborhood supported her by hanging yellow ribbons in that tree.  That tree is a part of her life and her family history.

While I understand that all trees on the park strip are the property of the City, I am stunned that the City would authorize tree trimmers to destroy mature trees without any sort of investigation into the health of the tree or notice to the homeowner when clearly there was no imminent threat of harm to person or property from the tree.

My neighbor is grieving the loss of one of the last connections she had to her husband, save for the home they bought together.  Had she known, my neighbor would have gone out and taken a final photo with her son in front of the tree.  And, had she known, my neighbor would have had the time to prepare herself for the utter emptiness of her front yard, the total change to her familiar landscape.

I did not weep or yell at the tree trimmer, but I was angry at the tree's destruction and at the trim job I subsequently witnessed both on the house on the corner and on that loveliest of maple trees that you could see from the airing porch.  A significant portion of its canopy is now gone.  For the life of me, I cannot understand why it needed to be removed, especially the large pieces from the center of the tree.

I have wept since then.  Two years ago this coming Friday, my father died.  So, I am admittedly sensitive to loss at the moment.  Also, yesterday, once again, I was felled by the act of the elimination of solid waste, fainting and remaining ill for hours because of the response to internal pressure on my vegus nerve.  The loss of my dignity at such times is still keenly felt.  And, my pastor who has been visiting me, unexpectedly accepted a call to another church.  Yes, loss is high on my mind.

However, to me, the instant decision to destroy the mature tree is just another sign of how very disposable our society has become.

Both my mother and my father have/had held a deep and abiding appreciation for trees and the gift they are to this world.  I grew up with that appreciation and hold it myself.  I take too many tree photos and still am wont to lie beneath a tree and marvel at the view above me.  My favorite, as was my father's, is the blue spruce.  A few years before I moved here, my father got two baby blue spruce trees for free from the National Arbor Society.  We laughed when he planted them at the base of his driveway, for you could barely see them.  I laughed and wept when I saw them when I went to his funeral.  Those almost painfully slow growing trees had matured enough to create a beautiful entrance guard to the driveway.  I wish I had had one last time to thank my father for planting them, for the respect for trees he instilled in me.

My mother and step-father have spent significant money on the care of the trees in their various homes over the years of their marriage.  They model for their neighbors how to do so and will talk about how trees add both to the appeal and the health of the neighborhood.  In our family, you just don't go about chopping down trees willy-nilly.  You protect them.

The judicious clearing of trees on a property can be helpful.  I have no issue with such decision, especially if doing so is part of a plan of the development of the landscape.  I also have no problem with the removal of trees for safety reasons, such as an older tree grown too close to a home in a storm-riddled region.  And, of course, if a tree is truly dying, if it cannot be saved with treatment or supported in its weakness, then, of course, I would not take issue with its removal.

Last December, I stumbled across this article in which the Fort Wayne City Arborist is quoted.  He appears to have a lot more respect and concern for trees in the article than was displayed today.  The policy of allowing a tree-trimmer to destroy a stable tree without any consideration of its health or how doing so might affect the homeowner whose real estate taxes support the City is a bad policy.  Plain and simple.

What was done in haste today cannot be undone.  Yes, my neighbor can apply to the City tree replacement program for a planting next fall.  But that will not undo what happened, will not ease her grief, will not give back the opportunity to have a final photo of a tree that was more than just a tree to her.

She remains in shock.  It was a rude awakening for both of us today.  And, as I stated, it is a sad reminder of how easily everything is discarded these days ... from the unborn to struggling friends to the elderly.  We, as a nation, do not respect life much, nor do we value conservation, restoration, and repurposing.  Pockets of people do, but not our society. If nothing else, the thriving bottled water industry that is a plague upon our public grounds and our landfills gives testimony to that.  Nestle's bottled water commercials that have a mother saying that giving Pure Life water to a child is giving love literally churn my stomach.

The death of my neighbor's mature tree today is a painful reminder of how much I despair over that disposability.  And, to be honest, how disposable I feel.

You know, I bought my first dog with a warranty.  Strange.  Anyway, he was really ill his first year and when I finally discovered the cause of his problem, an hepatic shunt, I tried to execute the warranty of my pure bread Shiba Inu.  The warranty had been explained as to means to cover medical expenses in the first year.  However, in reality, executing the warranty would mean that the breeder would kill Kashi and give me another puppy.  Death was far more expedient than care.

I did not execute that warranty.  Instead, I chose to care for him, knowing that he would need to be on prescription dog food his entire life and I would have to be ever vigilant about his consumption of protein, since his liver couldn't process it.  I had fifteen years of puppy dog joy with Kashi.  He was most certainly worth extra care and extra expense in his food.

Am I nuts because I am so very sad that no one thought my neighbor's tree was worth extra care or even extra thought?

Today, I witnessed the death of a tree.
I feel it keenly.
I grieve with my neighbor who feels it more so.

I grieve, too, for our world, for the skewed and twisted view of all life that warps this world and its inhabitants ... that surely must grieve our Creator, too.