I never thought much about our crabapple tree. That is, not much about it as a creature.
We had her planted some 30 years ago. I like to think of her as a her. She was a small slim thing when we first got her. She found a home on our north lawn just outside our dining room window. After two years, she showed her flowers, beautiful white things that graced our home in the spring, and after a couple of weeks sprinkled our lawn like snow. In the fall, she bore fruit attracting our neighborhood birds providing them sustenance for the winter. Quietly, she became part of our family.
Over the years, she grew a thick trunk that supported heavy branches and she spread her leafy cover over our entire north elevation. Yet below, she pressed her roots down on our sewer line, until the line collapsed and sewage began to back up into our basement. The line, which benefits no bird, creates no beauty or shade, gives no graceful shape to our world, made the greater claim. Our tree had to be removed, killed.
The tree guys came October 5, 2016. Chain saws clambering, they decimated our tree. They eliminated a living graceful and beautiful creature with insistence and noisy indifference.
What an awful choice! I am responsible for this destruction. I saw the sewage backup. I called the plumber. I approved his recommendation. I ordered the tree removal. I am so sad.
