A few months ago I wandered downstairs first thing in the morning and went straight to the back door to let the dog out. I opened the door and was startled to realize that the “leaning” tree, a giant mulberry smack-dab in the middle of our backyard, had shifted. Noticeably. The branches that had overhung our deck and shaded the baby’s room were now suddenly rubbing against the back door. When I looked at the hackberry tree which it leaned into, I noticed that it had shifted there, too…..a much more precarious situation since our neighbor’s house was in a direct line of the leaning trunk.
The tree was not only there when we moved here, it was there when the house was built 25+ years ago; we are one of a handful of houses in this neighborhood where trees were left standing when the homes were built (even now, you can pick us out). The number one reason I wanted to buy this house was “the south-facing backyard with mature trees.” Taking a tree out goes against everything in me; I’m the one planting them, not removing them. But this was pretty clearly not negotiable.
We got the removal scheduled and I white-knuckled it through two high-winded thunderstorms before they arrived (I think I envisioned every possible scenario where the tree landed on the neighbor, her house, or her dog). Finally, the crew came out and gave our family quite the show: you don’t realize what some people mean when they leave in the morning to “go to work.” Ropes and pulleys and walking limbs and hanging on trunks, and all of us at the windows watching their every move. Each branch that came down hurt to watch; while it let in more and more sunshine, I was dreading going to the baby’s room and discovering how miserably hot it would be.
And then….when they were done, when the massive wall of tree was removed from the middle of our yard and I walked out onto our deck for the first time, it was the strangest sensation. It was physical: this moment of I can breathe. I could see the sky instead of leaves, clear blue instead of deep green, air instead of solid; and I could feel it, within me.
I suppose it’s like any other serious decluttering job. That feeling of space, of lightness, that results from getting rid of excess. I never really thought about “decluttering” trees from our yard–I definitely don’t plan on making it a habit. I am enjoying this feeling, though; and my daughter is eagerly planning “her” butterfly garden for the spring with all the newfound sunshine.
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