A Tree Grew There

Today we are losing a tree in our yard.  It’s a huge box elder tree that we planted not long after we moved to this property over 30 years ago.  It produces beautiful filtered shade over one end of our house and keeps it cool in the hot summer months.  It’s part of the character of our front yard and I love to sit under it at our picnic table.  I’ve written quite a number of blogs and poems under that tree.  It’s been the home to lots of birds and squirrels and a shelter for our kids and grandkids when they played under it. 

But it’s a sprawling tree and it has begun to create issues with our roof and it’s messy when the seed pods and leaves come down in the fall.  It also attracts pests, specifically box elder bugs which have reproduced in plague proportion the last four years.  It’s not as healthy as it used to be so it’s time for it to go.  It will come down branch by branch today. 

It’s a lesson of life that some things are for a season.  All living things have a lifespan.  Some are very long and some are far too short.  I guess I had hoped that this tree would outlive us.  There will be a giant hole in our landscape when it’s gone.  We will plant another tree, but won’t be around to see it grow as big as this one. 

I love trees.  I could be a tree hugger.  I admire all the varieties and the contrasts of evergreens and deciduous.  Green is my favorite color and in trees I see every shade on the green spectrum.  They all have different patterns of branches and a myriad of leaf shapes.  To me, they are a testament to the magic of Creation and I must always live among them. 

This tree coming down is not without its upside.  Further damage to our roof will cease and the endless raking of seed pods will not be necessary.  Our view of sunsets will be opened up and the lilac that has been stunted under its branches will probably thrive.  But something about losing that tree seems like an ending.  I loved sitting under it and watching the morning and evening sunlight electrify its leaves to a bright chartreuse as they twisted in the breeze.  It felt safe to sit under the branches, like a cozy shelter from extremes of the seasons. 

I may be a little more sad about this tree than I should be.  I’m not sure I want to watch it come down.  I know it’s just a tree.  The memories and years associated with that tree won’t change.  But it was easier to remember when I could sit under it.