Monday, April 09, 2007
Seven trees
Seven trees fell today.
I had a hand in accomplishing this. I am not proud of this but it was work that had to be done.
There were six georgia trash pine trees and one stunted poplar that were removed down to their roots. They were ground up into small chips for mulch and their stumps will not be their tombstones. These reminders will also be ground up into sawdust and removed.
The small hillside they occupied was on the northside of the house. No wind ever came down the hill toward the house from that direction, but the trees did drop their cones and needles onto the roof.
The trees rose seventy feet above the house. They were entwined with persistant poison and algerian ivies. The gray ghost of previous seasons of ivy stems rose up the boles into the canopy of these seven sisters.
Downing trees is hard on your soul. I come from a place where trees are almost sacred. The lushness of the California-Nevada environment is saved by its trees. Each tree planted and encouraged to grow in arid hot inner valleys contributes to the moisture in the air and to the amelioration of the heat. Shade is blessed relief.
In fields of grain, the gleaner's oak tree is reminder of the long line of settlers who tilled the fertile land for over a century and a half. My part of California has only been worked for about 150 years and tree clearing was just not part of the plan from the start.
http://www.globalgallery.com/enlarge/022-27549/
In the ravines and gullies, only manzanita, an iron branched twigy plant, will volunteer to give cover to the moles and hares squatting in their warrens in the hope of water.
On the western side of these mountains, eucalyptus trees give off their aroma. These transplants from Down Under were a small mistake. Some, thinking these tall trees were good for the boat building timber and repairing business, imported and planted them in the 1850's on the north and east bay coast hills. The trees grew well, but their twisted trunks made them good for little more than the turpentine that could be squeezed from them. Compared to the native sequoia, eucalyptus was not valued much.
Our family planted a pair of sycamores in the center of each of the small green lawns cultivated in the front of our small gerry-build G.I bungalow in San Leandro. The trees were on the south side of the house and provided cool shade all summer long and having dropped their leaves, allowed the winter sun to shine onto the living room floor to warm the house by noon each day. From twigs to stately guardians, we watched them grow. And loved them.
We rested under them reading on a summer afternoon. We leaned against them with our heads buried into the crook of our arms as we counted out loudly to one hundred in our dusk games of hide and seek. They acted as goal markers for the end lines of our imaginary touch football field that started out on the lawns of the Halls, Kings and the Cantins, but migrated out into the asphalt of the street as we got older and bolder.
When, as a young married couple in 1964, we moved into our first house in Dublin, the sickly magnolias planted by the optimistic Volk McLain development company just could not fullfill my front yard design needs. Defying the landscaping script decreed, I pulled out these abominations and covered over their former root sites with grass seeds. Into the large lawn rectangle in front of the house, I planted the two familial sycamore guardians. The landscape police did not complain, but the neighbors would sit on the cement steps of their porchs and talk. It was a topic of conversation on and off for several years.
The family migrated to Atlanta in 1992. The wonder of living in a forest soon wore off as the reality of spring pollen showers and the ubiquitousness of the pine tree weeds sunk in. I had never thought of a tree as a weed. It was a difficult concept to get my mind around.
When Janel came, her California friends gave her bits of California dirt with a small pine tree planted in a jar. This would have been a thoughtful gift between folks there. It was laughable here in Georgia. The twenty seven Peachtree Streets of Atlanta are rumored to be named for a southern corruption of the words pitch tree. Pines were used for turpentine as a major early industry of Atlanta.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peachtree_Street_%28Atlanta%29
Atlanta lies in the foothills of the Appalacia "Mountains". I say mountains guardedly. East Coast "mountains" just can not compare to the mountains of the West. Their worn rounded domed tops compare only to the pacific coast ranges of the Diablo and Santa Cruz Mountains of California. The knobcone, foothill and coulter pines pepper the hills along with the poison oak.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Mount_Diablo_Panoramic_From_Newhall.jpg
Today, our trees are falling because we clear their area for a side yard for the house. The original plan was for side yard parking and a small "mother-in-law" garden area and hot tub. However, the area seems to be getting smaller and smaller as the reality of the space is revealed. With the trees gone, the next step will be to cement the flat area and then see what can be done design-wise with retaining walls, gates, fences and storage space. It is evolving.
But the first step was the tree removal and now they are gone.
I had a hand in accomplishing this. I am not proud of this but it was work that had to be done.
There were six georgia trash pine trees and one stunted poplar that were removed down to their roots. They were ground up into small chips for mulch and their stumps will not be their tombstones. These reminders will also be ground up into sawdust and removed.
The small hillside they occupied was on the northside of the house. No wind ever came down the hill toward the house from that direction, but the trees did drop their cones and needles onto the roof.
The trees rose seventy feet above the house. They were entwined with persistant poison and algerian ivies. The gray ghost of previous seasons of ivy stems rose up the boles into the canopy of these seven sisters.
Downing trees is hard on your soul. I come from a place where trees are almost sacred. The lushness of the California-Nevada environment is saved by its trees. Each tree planted and encouraged to grow in arid hot inner valleys contributes to the moisture in the air and to the amelioration of the heat. Shade is blessed relief.
In fields of grain, the gleaner's oak tree is reminder of the long line of settlers who tilled the fertile land for over a century and a half. My part of California has only been worked for about 150 years and tree clearing was just not part of the plan from the start.
http://www.globalgallery.com/enlarge/022-27549/
In the ravines and gullies, only manzanita, an iron branched twigy plant, will volunteer to give cover to the moles and hares squatting in their warrens in the hope of water.
On the western side of these mountains, eucalyptus trees give off their aroma. These transplants from Down Under were a small mistake. Some, thinking these tall trees were good for the boat building timber and repairing business, imported and planted them in the 1850's on the north and east bay coast hills. The trees grew well, but their twisted trunks made them good for little more than the turpentine that could be squeezed from them. Compared to the native sequoia, eucalyptus was not valued much.
Our family planted a pair of sycamores in the center of each of the small green lawns cultivated in the front of our small gerry-build G.I bungalow in San Leandro. The trees were on the south side of the house and provided cool shade all summer long and having dropped their leaves, allowed the winter sun to shine onto the living room floor to warm the house by noon each day. From twigs to stately guardians, we watched them grow. And loved them.
We rested under them reading on a summer afternoon. We leaned against them with our heads buried into the crook of our arms as we counted out loudly to one hundred in our dusk games of hide and seek. They acted as goal markers for the end lines of our imaginary touch football field that started out on the lawns of the Halls, Kings and the Cantins, but migrated out into the asphalt of the street as we got older and bolder.
When, as a young married couple in 1964, we moved into our first house in Dublin, the sickly magnolias planted by the optimistic Volk McLain development company just could not fullfill my front yard design needs. Defying the landscaping script decreed, I pulled out these abominations and covered over their former root sites with grass seeds. Into the large lawn rectangle in front of the house, I planted the two familial sycamore guardians. The landscape police did not complain, but the neighbors would sit on the cement steps of their porchs and talk. It was a topic of conversation on and off for several years.
The family migrated to Atlanta in 1992. The wonder of living in a forest soon wore off as the reality of spring pollen showers and the ubiquitousness of the pine tree weeds sunk in. I had never thought of a tree as a weed. It was a difficult concept to get my mind around.
When Janel came, her California friends gave her bits of California dirt with a small pine tree planted in a jar. This would have been a thoughtful gift between folks there. It was laughable here in Georgia. The twenty seven Peachtree Streets of Atlanta are rumored to be named for a southern corruption of the words pitch tree. Pines were used for turpentine as a major early industry of Atlanta.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peachtree_Street_%28Atlanta%29
Atlanta lies in the foothills of the Appalacia "Mountains". I say mountains guardedly. East Coast "mountains" just can not compare to the mountains of the West. Their worn rounded domed tops compare only to the pacific coast ranges of the Diablo and Santa Cruz Mountains of California. The knobcone, foothill and coulter pines pepper the hills along with the poison oak.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Mount_Diablo_Panoramic_From_Newhall.jpg
Today, our trees are falling because we clear their area for a side yard for the house. The original plan was for side yard parking and a small "mother-in-law" garden area and hot tub. However, the area seems to be getting smaller and smaller as the reality of the space is revealed. With the trees gone, the next step will be to cement the flat area and then see what can be done design-wise with retaining walls, gates, fences and storage space. It is evolving.
But the first step was the tree removal and now they are gone.
# posted by Dornar @ 9:44 AM 
