I hate cutting down trees. As much as I love the wood that comes from them, there is still something about cutting down a tree that seems to me an affront. A crime against the sky. Certainly it is a loss of some valuable shade in the heat of the sun. And it changes a landscape, a street view.
But it was half dead and once cut, discovered to be rotten inside. It had to come down now in a noisy if controlled fashion rather than taking out someone’s car some chance day. It was a good sized tree and it had a good run of time. Pretty looking wood. But all wood, wet and fresh from a saw cut, looks like Christmas. I do still hope for a good slab or two.
The thing about cutting a tree down is the finality of it. It’s up and standing and a pain in your side and maybe a hazard and in a few hours, it’s gone. Like it never existed. I don’t like cutting down trees because it makes me feel just as temporary. Maybe even more so as I was younger than that tree. Still I’ll try to make something out it instead of just burning all of it. Now that is a crime.