Madison Tree Cookies Are Not Edible, But Are Memory Makers
Often on this blog there are pictures of blooms that brighten the day, letting us know that the world is full of wonder and joy. But summer also produces storms, and high winds that result in loss and frustration. A neighbor’s tree in the terrace that was loved by all went down on July 15th, at 2:45 A.M. As it toppled over it ripped wires from our house. It also resulted in quite a sight I am sure, when wearing only boxers I bolted out of our house into the rain to investigate the crashing noise to determine if it had hit any structures. (It had not.)
In the middle of the night I contacted the city, and chainsaws were removing the section of tree before daylight that had taken down lines. Often we hear about city employees in negative ways, and that is not always fair. So it is, I think, important to mention the professionalism that the city undertook with the swift removal of the section of tree, and the concern the two men showed about the loss of this important part of our neighborhood. I was also glad that when the city came to remove the rest of the tree this week, one of the original men returned and smiled when I mentioned he looked different than he did at four in the morning. He was more than willing to make sure cookies were cut of the tree for the neighbors, and myself.
It may seem odd to some, but I think after a tree has been in the neighborhood for years that some part of it should remain. When we first moved here in 2007 an old and sick tree had to be removed on our terrace, and I felt real sad about it. It was then that I discovered that the tree crews will make a cookie cut. So here below is the remains of the tree from 2007, and the latest addition that is placed by our porch swing. They make foot rests, and conversation pieces. But I think in some way they also belong here; a piece of the neighborhood that swayed in the warm sun, hunkered down in the biting cold, protected kids from the rain, made ‘friends’ with dogs, and wished, I am sure, to stay longer.
And so a part of it shall.
You weren’t exaggerating about being a writer. I’m still reading trying to catch up. I really enjoyed this one in particular. I too, often feel sad when something happens to a tree. I always think of the animals that may have been at home in it even if it was diseased or taken by Mother Nature.