Tree Huggers of the World Unite
Monday 25th January 2016
Leaf of the Day will never be the same again. The beech tree, prime leaf drop culprit at Court Cottage, is no more.
When we moved in over 10 years ago, there were three fairly mature trees in the back garden area. This is a bit you do not see if you come to a workshop. There is access to the main drive, garage, car-port etc from the side road – there’s a wood store and the veg garden etc. There is also a piece of ground that I am going to call ‘lawn’. It resembles lawn in that it is partially green, though much of this is now moss.
These trees – a copper beech, a cedar and a rowan-tree – were planted about 30 years ago. In the time we have lived here, we have had them crowned/reduced three times, pretty drastically. There is, however, a limit to how effective this will be in terms of a) keeping the trees looking good; and b) encouraging them to not push the cottage right over. The cedar in particular was looking less stately and more towering lollipop as a result of its 3 haircuts, while the beech was just spreading, as they do, being
forest trees.
Here they are:
The last time we had a tree surgeon over which was a couple of weeks back, he told us honestly that he
could reduce them, again, but they’d just keep coming back at us; that it’d cost almost 4 times as much to have them topped/pruned as felled; and that if he lived here, he’d get shut of them.
The ‘little’ fir trees on the side of the drive are actually too tall to trim without a tall ladder – but the beech and the cedar dwarf them.
I wavered still, but Mark was keen to have them chopped down. And in the end, I had to agree because of the proximity to the cottage – closer than any sane person would plant forest trees and within bough-touching distance by the close of 2015.
The chap whose company came over to look at the trees was very kind. Basically, he humoured me as I blathered on about how sad it was, how we loved the trees, how we’d miss them, how we’d tried to practice SRT in the beech tree (fail)…he didn’t say much but I could tell he was sympathetic.
So anyway, very soon, came dreaded the day – and of course, it dawned frosty, blue and beautiful, just so the majestic trees would look their very best as they spread their limbs out against the glittering, winter-ice sky and rosy dawn.
I began a sniveling, eye-watering limbering up to full-on crying at sunrise. By 7.30 I was quietly sobbing in the kitchen, trying but failing to imagine my view without the trees, as I stood in the gloomy-end of the kitchen, looking at the ‘lawn’ and drive. It is (was) gloomy here all year round. In summer, the copper beech, in full leaf, robbed about half this area and half the kitchen of any natural light save that filtered by its bronze leaves. Copper beech, stately and lovely as they are, especially when viewed in park-land estates or on telly when watching Woolf Hall, are light-thieves. They actively soak up light around them, quite apart from creating a shade so deep it is oceanic in its depths.
Even in winter, it towered and anyway, the cedar was evergreen, so it always loomed. Recently it had taken to shedding its pernicious brown needles, much finer than a Christmas tree’s, all over its potion of ‘lawn’, the drive and the paths. From here, it was easy for all humans and animals who use the back door, which is everyone basically, to tread these all over the house.
But still, that morning, I was very sad. The moment arrived when the tree-men maneuvered their truck and trailer down the road – always an exciting time for this village, any work being done by someone they have not approved, are related to or recognise. Well! The owner had sent two little boys! They were tall for children it is true, but still about eleven years old. So now I was upset
and anxious about these little boys having chain saws and climbing things – on my property – and also, being English, I was suppressed, being unable to express this anxiety in case they were insulted. Mark took a quick look, in response to me hissing at him that the kindergarten class of tree-surgery had rocked up. He pronounced them to be adults. Hmmm. Only just. I made them tea (they declined squash and cookies, most odd) and may have brought them up to date with my ‘I love these trees, but they have to go’ dilemma.
I went indoors and actually
begged Mark to give them the cheque for the work –
just to go away. He said no.
As they fiddled about on the road, out of eye-line, I crept out and bade a last goodbye to my trees. I took some photos. Then I wondered, as you do, just how wide that cedar had grown. When we moved in it was mature but still fairly slender. It looked much sturdier, so thick-set now. So, I put my arms around its trunk. My longest fingers could only just touch. That’s a big tree. It wasn’t meant to be a hug, but of course, it sort of was. It was just my curiosity to see how big it had grown.
Unfortunately at this moment, the older (well, taller) of the two man-child tree-surgeons wandered back up the drive carrying a mile or two of coiled ropes. Our eyes met. He paused. I let go of the tree and stepped away. He proceeded to lay out the ropes. We agreed, via the silent code of our people, not to attempt an explanation or ever to mention it. So, he thinks I am a red-eyed tree-hugger.
Some hours – but fewer than you might suppose – and an awful lot of noise later, the children had finished playing in the trees. They were no more. I had also asked them to leave circles of the trunks for me, on the drive, plus any boughs we can saw up for fire-wood. The circles make great eco-seats for the garden, we have two stacks of them from some trees that were felled elsewhere and were given to us – they are useful, home to lots of creatures and they look nice. Now I have enough to make some more seats here and take to the allotment to sit upon.
And, I like it better now. It is bright, light and just less gloomy. So much soul-searching, and so many other solutions tried – but Mark and the tree-man were right.
The ‘lawn’ may recover; or I might use this space to keep chickens – a recurring dream. It may never be realised, but this would now be a good space. The rowan-tree was spared, posing no threat and probably being full size now, but it may do better now it is not cowering in the vast shadow of the cedar.
And a small lesson learned about being less resistant to even fairly small changes and to listening to the views and advice of others. They were right, and I am glad.
Ohhhh big decision but you’ll enjoy the light and new gardening opportunities. Yes yes to chickens …xx