The Corsican pine in our garden, planted short-sightedly by the people who lived here before us, was getting bigger every year. Already 40 ft tall, it could have reached 120. It's not really a garden tree - unless you have some kind of country estate. It's more of a shelter belt or forestry tree. It was leaching all the goodness out of the soil and sucking up tons of moisture (the soil's dry and sandy enough, anyhow, here on the Trent valley flood plain). The garden was getting darker and shadier, stifled by the ever spreading, ever thickening branches. We were becoming restricted in what we could plant. And the pond at its foot was permanently clogged with pine needles and cones. It was no good. It was the wrong tree in the wrong place. It had to go. So we sought permission from the County Council. We checked there were no birds' nests. Then we called in the Tree Man.
There was time for one last hug ...
... before the Tree Man ascended in full tree climbing gear, chainsaw dangling ...
This guy is in his seventies. Hope I'm as fit as him at his age ...
Nearly there ...
Topped!
The tree trunk rings showed it was twenty-five years old.
11 comments:
Nice to have a glimpse of your everyday life. We live in a hilly forested area, and you are quite right. Those pines get very large. Around here it important to note which way they are leaning, as every winter a few fall. A lot goes on up in the canopy, though. Right now a half dozen ravens are flying from treetop to treetop making quite a racket. I think it is teach the kids how to fly week.
It's always difficult to say goodbye to a tree, even when one knows its time has come. Amazing that the tree man is in his seventies! Hope lives!
I commiserate with you. Our son helped us get down fifteen Pinus radiata of the same age and height that had roots more than their height long and were sucking out all the moisture and nourishment from our garden as well as clogging our gutters with pine needles (we have to catch our own water so that was not a good thing).
It was a wrench to let them go but to see our fruit trees recovering as well as the roses flourishing is reward enough for feeling suddenly naked and exposed and missing the scent they used to exude.
We had to cut down a big tree a few years back - it was so difficult to come to the decision. When the tree men came, I could not watch. We had them cut part of the trunk into two long, low rustic benches. Still makes me sad.
We had the same situation 30 some years ago when we bought our house. Next to our house stood a large Douglas Fir tree. We had to take it down. Sad, but, as you say, not a garden tree. Our neighbor did not take his out and a few years later it toppled, crushing his neighbor's (on the other side) garage.
Like George said, 70, hope lives.
We have a dead tree waiting to come down Robert - luckily not in the garden. It will make nice logs for the stove next winter.
Nice to see the photo of Carmen.
I recall watching some men take down a bit tree in my parent's garden some years ago, it is an impressive feat of skill. Another time they had a diseased elm taken out and had some of the wood made into lamps for each of the family. Have you got plans for the timber?
thanks for sharing
martine
Those tree guys can move pretty fast. Before you know it, the tree's fallen over!
At least now you have room to plant other more diverse things.
i hate cutting down trees - feel so guilty - but sometimes you just have to. glad you had a final hug
Nice to see so many others feel the same pain at the loss of a tree. When one of our twin elms had to come down I cried. It hurt like cutting off a part of me. The yards reaction was interesting too, as everything was geared towards shelter and shade. Been interesting to see the struggle to survive and for some, thrive.
Have missed your writing and photos for the past weeks after Carmen's final hug to your Corsican Pine that grew too large for your garden.
I have a friend who is a 63-year-old Tree Man. His father was a Tree Man, too, who worked for much of his life as a Tree Man and then became a minister in the Congregational Church until his death at 95 years old. The love and tending of trees and forests runs deep in that family.
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