It took a long time for me to come to terms with cutting down a maple tree in my yard that was dying (see “Tribute to a Tree” from 2013), but I did it. The pileated woodpeckers had continued their pounding until the branches sported several foot-high holes (which, by the way, were not used for nesting). This spring, its leaves were sparse.
My tree was suffering and it was time to go before a strong wind or ice storm broke its limbs and endangered my shed, garage, or house. After procuring several price quotes, I chose a local company, which came sooner than I expected. I arrived home one day for lunch to see chunks of it carted away on a flatbed truck, the core of it as brown and rotten as a criminal’s heart.
I thought about making the trunk into some sort of statue or using the wood for a memento, but just the disposal of the tree was so expensive, I couldn’t think of doing anything so fancy. Plus the wood was rotten, so whatever was made from it probably wouldn’t have lasted. I counted the rings on the stump before it was ground up. The tree was at least 90 years old. I said a few words over the stump in remembrance.
Good-bye, favorite tree. I’m going to plant two young trees in the yard in your honor.