It was majestic. A good sixty feet high and wide enough to shade half my yard, it gave my grandkids a ton of fun with three swings hanging from its branches and a tree house built around its base. I’m talking about the hundred year old Norway maple tree in my backyard. That storm we had a month or so ago ripped away one of its main branches. The tree man I hired said it would survive, but needed ragged ends cleared up. Well, not quite. When he climbed the beautiful old thing he found rot everywhere.
So, he came back and swung his ropes over the top branches and began to climb. And cut. Piece by piece leaves and branches fell to the ground, some with a crack or a crash, others with a heavy thump. Finally, only the main trunk remained. Wide enough that I couldn’t reach my hands around it, that trunk made the man work, but he persisted. Then it fell, with a huge thud that sent smaller logs on the ground flying.
It’s gone now, all except the stump. My backyard seems barren and exposed. but there are other maples nearby, maples that drop their seeds throughout the yard. I’ll be waiting for one of those to nestle in beside that lonely stump.