Good-bye Trees

So, when I said daily, clearly what I meant was I would THINK about posting daily and ACTUALLY post just every few days. Sheesh. Hey, at least I made it two days in a row.

In my defense, I had a hard day yesterday. Remember way back when I told you that the lot next to us was going to be made into a neighbourhood of 11 houses? Well, the recession must be over because it’s happening. Fences are being torn down, ground is being dug up, pipes are being put in, the flag people are out. This morning during breakfast a big digger was picking up dirt and then swinging around within I swear 10 feet of our second story dining room window en route to dropping the dirt in another pile for God knows what reason. There is lots and may I emphasize the lots part again of { { P O U N D I N G } } as they try to force all the air and water out of the dirt for firm house foundations. Why this process should necessitate the rattling of glass in my cupboards and general upheaval of my own foundation is just idle philosophical musings at this point.

And yesterday they took out the trees.

The beautiful bank of 10 or so birch trees, the ancient 3 alders, a pine, and an apple tree.

We went from this:

The view from our dining room window until Wednesday

 and this:

View from the sidewalk

To this:

Mass Birch Grave

And this:

The Fallen

All in matter of hours.

I’m only a part time tree hugger. But I loved those trees, particularly the birches. I loved the way the leaves rustled in the wind; the way they’d turn over their leaves in anticipation of the rain; their glorious yellows in the fall. They were my view, a little protection from the mundane suburban landscape. Now they’re gone, and I am profoundly sad at their loss.

Of course once the new neighbourhood arrives, we’ll get properly behaved trees. The kind that grow in a straight lines up and down and do not crack their cement boundaries. They won’t be too messy or too big or too wavy. These trees will know their place.

The truly sad part is that all the trees except for the pine were on the property’s borders. All it would have taken is a little bit of extra creativity on the part of the developer to preserve them. Even the pine could probably have sat in an island in the middle of the future cul-de-sac.

But this is the cost I guess of assuming that others felt the same way as me. I could have looked at the plans. I could have raised a tree-hugging stink about losing the trees, written letters to the editor, chained myself to the trees in protest. But I did nothing.

Lesson learned.

But time to look for another home — this time with some widly tall ecstatic trees that have been there for a century and are actually on the property we own so no one can take them down at their whim.

Advertisements

About Tentative Equinox North

Theatremaker, Homemaker, Thoughtmaker. Great hair, Probably looking forward to my next nap.
This entry was posted in Leaves, Minor notes in the celestial chord, Observatory, Twilight and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Good-bye Trees

  1. Barb says:

    Oh, I feel for ya. The trees – almost obscene how they sit there in that sad heap. Torn, shredded. Ugh. When I moved to the suburbs (30+ years ago) we bought a big lot, with lots and lots of trees. Some have become so unruly I’ve had to take them down. Always sad. But there are lots still here, full of birds and nests, and rustlings of all kinds. I LOVE my trees. Want to go out and hug ’em right now. Yes, TE, get a place with trees you can defend.

  2. Persephone says:

    I still mourn the loss of the lovely walnut that used to be in the backyard of our house in Victoria. I adored the texture of its trunk. Every year, we had a civilized tussle with the manager of the apartment block next door, who said that the walnuts dropping over our fence might damage the cars in the huge parking lot — which was under cover. I think he didn’t like sweeping the walnuts up.

    As soon as we sold the house, it was remodeled and the walnut tree was one of the first things to go. I once met a lady who remembered the neighbourhood kids harvesting the tree in the 1940s.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s