Our Tree
Sunday 22 June 2008 at 9:34 pm.To everyone else in the world it was just a tree. Granddad, who lives just down the street, brought over a maple sapling for Dad to plant in our front yard. I was three or four and my brother probably had yet to figure out the whole walking thing. He suggested to my father that at the same time of year take an annual picture of my baby brother and myself by the tree to compare and contrast our and its growth. 
To my brother and me it was a special tree, a constant of sorts. Something we grew up with. I remember Granddad telling me that when I would be his age our maple tree would be as tall as the other old trees that surround my home. Being such a young child it blew my mind being someone so ancient and a tree being so tall in my lifetime. My brother and I were young; we never saw such a small skinny tree grow into a big one. It blew our minds. I also remember asking Dad how long it would be until we could make maple surup from the sap. He said it was the wrong kind of tree. It was sad news to a kid's ears!
Two years ago I moved out on my own. Our tree lost leaves unusually early. Last year leaves grew for a few weeks and then the tree died. Our tree died. Dad raised my brother and myself to be gentle. He didn't want us to be the way he was as a child. I taught my brother the same as we grew up. One day my middle school aged brother was a half hour late walking home from the school bus stop. Dad walked out and found my brother picking every Woolly Bear Caterpillar off the road and putting them on the side so they wouldn't get run over. Back then they were everywhere so it was quite a chore. When our tree died last year it really got to the both of us.
Last week the bottom of the trunk began to crack and it no longer was safe for the tree to remain. Today my brother and I took our very last picture with our tree. Then Dad and I cut it down. For any other tree it would be a small sad moment and chopped into firewood as was done with the five that were cut to make room for our new house, but not this time.
For something that was important to us we felt that there should be a little something more and having our tree be a nursing log in the woods behind our home so little trees can grow would be the best. The bottom half of the trunk was discolored red with whatever fungus and bacteria killed it and I did not want that spreading. We cut off the bottom half of the trunk and will use it for firewood. Then we cut wood cookies of the trunk for my brother and myself to keep. The rest of the tree we dragged back into the woods and placed it near our tree house. There it will join the massive stumps of old growth giants that fell before my Great Grandparents acquired the land. Even the cider the treehouse is in grew from a nusring log and the cavity made a great place to hide or an imaginary jail or fireplace.
I lingered for a few minutes after Dad and my brother left. I took a giant leaf from a vine maple and placed it on the trunk. For some reason it seemed like a fitting gesture. There will never be any more pictures with my brother and I with that tree. For a minute I allowed myself to be that sensitive child that cared about every living thing, no matter how big or small or fictitious. It was a moment that every bully int he world would jump upon. Just for that one minute I cried for a fallen tree. To the rest of the world it is just a tree. For us it was our tree.
No comments
Trackback link: /pivot/tb.php?tb_id=684