The tree guys are here. They are, in fact, certified arborists, but I call them tree guys. This morning I told Ella they were lumberjacks. I'm trying to make the operation sound more jolly.
I am a tree-hugger. I've spent most of my life in the shade of Washington evergreens, and I hate to lose a tree. We have 12 to 15 major trees on our half-acre. Most are Douglas Firs, about -- how tall? I am terrible at estimating. Maybe 120 feet? Way up to the sky.
I would let them be, but ever since we've moved into this house I have feared the wind. For the past few years, we've had the same weather pattern each winter: soaking rains followed by high winds. This is bad for trees, loosening up their roots and then knocking them down. I know someone whose house was cleaved by a large tree. It was one of those situations where, if their kids had gone to bed 20 minutes sooner, they would have been crushed in their beds. They had to move out of their house for months.
A couple of years ago, the kids missed a week of school because of an area-wide power outage that lasted days. Strange, in this area, to miss school on account of rain! This never happened when I was a kid. I blame global warming.
Whenever we have a major windstorm, I cower in bed all night, shaking at every big gust. Once, when Big A was on a business trip, I hustled everyone down to the basement to sleep. I felt foolish, but what if you're the unlucky person who puts your kids to bed 20 minutes sooner? I didn't want to take that chance.
Yet I used to love a windstorm. I loved the drama and I loved watching from the coziness of indoors. So finally I called the tree guys. They don't like to take down trees unnecessarily, and they don't do nasty things like hack the tops off trees or prune them indiscriminately. We're taking down one fir next to the house that has damaged roots (Big A hates that tree because it dumps debris on the roof, so this is his Christmas present) and thinning or pruning the rest to reduce wind resistance. I will be able to sleep better this winter.
But I hate the sound of a chain saw, and that's what I have in my yard right now. It's worse than a dentist's drill. I remember when I was a child and the chain saws came and took away our secret woods and put ticky-tacky houses in their place. Whenever I hear a chain saw in the neighborhood, I go into full Mrs. Kravitz mode, snooping around to see what's up. I've had neighbors take down trees that I enjoyed looking at and whose privacy screening I appreciated. It's certainly their right as a property owner to take down a tree, but I feel the loss as if the tree were my own. So I hope we're not worrying the neighbors.
And we'll have a lot of wood to burn this winter, which will be nice if the power goes out again and we have to sleep in the living room and do homework by firelight.
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