Ode to a Tree
When we moved into our home almost eight years ago, one of the reasons I fell in love with it immediately was the huge white birch in the front yard. A close second was an old maple tree right next to the house. We could see it was struggling but we had a tree person come and do some serious trimming. I have an office at the top of my house and I could mark the seasons by looking out the window at the maple: the bare geometric branches in winter, the budding leaves in spring (some branches not coming out at all), full leafy in summer, and the delicious colors of a maple in autumn. The clouds served as a bass line to the tree’s melody.
This summer we had a ferocious wind storm, a gift from Isaias; no rain but the wind took down trees all over the island where we lived and did even worse damage west of us. But our maple stood tall and made it through the storm. Nevertheless, my husband began to eye it with concern and another arborist came over for a consultation.
The prognosis was not good. The main trunk, listing towards the house, was rotten inside and we were rightly worried that another hurricane could bring it down on our house or across the street taking down wires and possible hitting the house on the other side.
So, sadly, I had to bid farewell to the gallant maple. I have always seen the destruction of trees for trivial reasons a serious sin against a magnificent being and I felt deeply sad that this needed to be the end of our tree. How old was it? I am not certain but clearly it had been there for decades, providing shade, glorious color in fall, and a bit of a buffer from the traffic on the busy street. Trees stand silent witnesses to the foibles of us human beings: how we arrange our natural spaces, decorates our abodes, live our daily lives. At the same time they fill an irreplaceable niche in the ecosystem. Yes, they do eventually come to an end and either fall down or are taken down by their human masters. But we should still do it with reverence and gratitude for all that a tree contributes to our lives.
So, farewell maple tree. Thank you for all you have given the residents of this house for past decades and for the birds, squirrels, and insects that will likewise wonder where you have gone. Your companion, the flowering cherry tree, did look a bit forlorn today. The Rose of Sharon shook slightly in the unfiltered sun and straightened up a bit. And as I gaze out my attic window, I am acutely aware of your absence. Everything comes to an end but we can still acknowledge its place in this world and mourn its departure.
