It happens every year. The weather warms, the birds start singing, the daffodils bloom, and the big trucks loaded with power tools pull up all over the neighborhood. On Friday I was working at the kitchen table downstairs when I heard chainsaws start up in the yard behind us. Not exactly conducive to my creative process, that sound. Then two behemoths backed into the driveway of the people across the road in front of us. My physical reaction is testament to the traumatic effect of losing heritage tree after heritage tree all along our street, and the two prior owners of the house in front each did some serious tree damage. So I was worried we were about to lose more habitat, more shade, more beauty. I paced. I texted Michael. I peeked out through our curtains. When the tree men out front started waving and shouting cheerful insults down our driveway to the tree men out back, I nearly lost it completely.
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| Yes, I am the lady who takes this photo. |
In the end, the carnage was relatively minor. The people behind us removed a few hemlocks on their street frontage, trees that I can barely see, there's so much other greenery in between. And the people across the road were simply letting the tree service use their driveway to access their neighbor's backyard to take down a minor and dead-looking trunk. No-one was touching that magnificent horse chestnut. For now, at least. But I'm watching, I'm watching.
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