I can totally relate, Craig. We had a 50+ year old mulberry tree at the end of our backyard. It had given us shade and entertainment (from the squirrels, birds and raccoons that hung out in it) for the 32 years that we’ve lived here. Unfortunately, it became diseased and needed to be taken down. It was very sad and we were left with some very confused wildlife that couldn’t figure out what had happened to their playhouse. However, life goes on. The wildlife still comes around and the other plants in our backyard are relishing the extra sunlight.
Thank you Craig for the attention you have paid to your old friend. I can relate.
The sugar maple next to our house was old when we arrived in 1986. It sat next to our house some 15 feet out from our bedroom window. It always put on the most spectacular show anywhere on our 43 acre property. But it had been heavily pruned by a former occupant, leaving it lopsided and growing dangerously away from the house. It continued to grow in this direction until one day, after a heavy rain, the weight became too much for it to stand.,The giant limb wiht its many sub branches which collectively comprised the entire top of the tree split away from the main trunk. We had been visiting Ruth's parents the day it happened and so the first we knew was when we returned home that night to find her collapsed in the side yard. I remember weeping for the tree. I wish there had been something I could have done to save her, but was not to be. It took me weeks to cut and gather her limbs and then further divide them into pieces small enough for one person to lift. I called a local woodturner to come take the spoils. He left fully burdened, the suspension of his van straining under the weight of the tree's gifts to him. He makes lovely large bowls and platters with the the larger pieces, although I never did see any.
But the story of the maple didn't end there. The bottom 10 feet of the trunk remained and we decided not to remove it. The bark eventually fell off and the delicate skin underneath turned various shades of silver grey. It remains there today, although twenty years or more has since passed. The trunk has shrunk quite a bit, down to about 8 feet tall now and it's centre is no just a pile of decaying sawdust. I could probably tear it down with my bare hands, but I could never think of such a thing. I will leave it be for as long as I can. It has become holy and I admire it regularly with reverence and respect. It has become a home for mice, voles and countless insects. It is a natural sculptural form to be wondered at and photographed. At one point a family of raccoons lived in the hollowed out top of it, the babies peeking out at us through the upstairs window of our bedroom. From the ground level bathroom, which I sometimes use as a bird blind, I have photographed many birds gathering around it over the years. For them it is a resource. Northern Flickers in particular love to gather there and disappear into a holes in its side reappearing further up after filling their bellies with a host of grubs and other avian delights. It seems a lifetime has passed and in a way it has.
After 38 years living next to the old maple or the stump that remains, my dear wife passed away in this past October, when the other trees were still covered in their autumnal coats. She loved the old tree as much as I did. Some trees are with us for life. If we live in one place long enough, we may get to know them on a more intimate basis. Old friends on the road of life.
I can totally relate, Craig. We had a 50+ year old mulberry tree at the end of our backyard. It had given us shade and entertainment (from the squirrels, birds and raccoons that hung out in it) for the 32 years that we’ve lived here. Unfortunately, it became diseased and needed to be taken down. It was very sad and we were left with some very confused wildlife that couldn’t figure out what had happened to their playhouse. However, life goes on. The wildlife still comes around and the other plants in our backyard are relishing the extra sunlight.
Beautifully crafted story—eloquently written, capturing the heart and soul of a deeply relatable relationship.
Thank you Craig for the attention you have paid to your old friend. I can relate.
The sugar maple next to our house was old when we arrived in 1986. It sat next to our house some 15 feet out from our bedroom window. It always put on the most spectacular show anywhere on our 43 acre property. But it had been heavily pruned by a former occupant, leaving it lopsided and growing dangerously away from the house. It continued to grow in this direction until one day, after a heavy rain, the weight became too much for it to stand.,The giant limb wiht its many sub branches which collectively comprised the entire top of the tree split away from the main trunk. We had been visiting Ruth's parents the day it happened and so the first we knew was when we returned home that night to find her collapsed in the side yard. I remember weeping for the tree. I wish there had been something I could have done to save her, but was not to be. It took me weeks to cut and gather her limbs and then further divide them into pieces small enough for one person to lift. I called a local woodturner to come take the spoils. He left fully burdened, the suspension of his van straining under the weight of the tree's gifts to him. He makes lovely large bowls and platters with the the larger pieces, although I never did see any.
But the story of the maple didn't end there. The bottom 10 feet of the trunk remained and we decided not to remove it. The bark eventually fell off and the delicate skin underneath turned various shades of silver grey. It remains there today, although twenty years or more has since passed. The trunk has shrunk quite a bit, down to about 8 feet tall now and it's centre is no just a pile of decaying sawdust. I could probably tear it down with my bare hands, but I could never think of such a thing. I will leave it be for as long as I can. It has become holy and I admire it regularly with reverence and respect. It has become a home for mice, voles and countless insects. It is a natural sculptural form to be wondered at and photographed. At one point a family of raccoons lived in the hollowed out top of it, the babies peeking out at us through the upstairs window of our bedroom. From the ground level bathroom, which I sometimes use as a bird blind, I have photographed many birds gathering around it over the years. For them it is a resource. Northern Flickers in particular love to gather there and disappear into a holes in its side reappearing further up after filling their bellies with a host of grubs and other avian delights. It seems a lifetime has passed and in a way it has.
After 38 years living next to the old maple or the stump that remains, my dear wife passed away in this past October, when the other trees were still covered in their autumnal coats. She loved the old tree as much as I did. Some trees are with us for life. If we live in one place long enough, we may get to know them on a more intimate basis. Old friends on the road of life.