Fifteen years ago, Deb and I were on the back porch watching a routine thunderstorm when we heard a loud crack. Uh… It came from somewhere nearby. Not the familiar crack of thunder, but more like it sounds when you snap a twig. The beautiful Bradford pear tree in our front yard had just lost a battle with the wind. We found it in two pieces, laying in opposite directions along the sidewalk.
We learned that having the “weakest branch structure in nature” is just one of many problems with Bradford pears. But still, that tree was a small part of what drew us to this house and we could only shake our heads as it was carted away.
Cut to now…
For several years, one of the the big trees in our back yard had been producing fewer and fewer leaves. Then it died completely. Every gust of wind was a new adventure in scattered limbs. On our north skycam, it looked creepy in the moonlight—like the cover of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” Finally, we got some estimates and put out the hit … sometimes a tree gotta get whacked.
We lowered the camera and recorded the tree-ectomy in action. Admittedly, it’s not the most exciting video in the world. But if you’ve ever wanted to see a guy on a cherry picker fly around with a chainsaw at 10x speed, then today is your day!
So we’ve lost two of our three trees now.
In addition to shade and privacy, trees also provide a kind of stoic character that’s impossible to replace. They help make even the smallest landscape unique. They’re living things, and they will be missed.