Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Behemoth
This old beauty came down yesterday, attended by ropes and chainsaws. I walk by it every day, and mourn its death. I leaned into the giant log-trunk lying beside the sidewalk, patted the rough beauty of the bark. There was so much of it; almost too much to take in. What I really wanted to do was lay down upon its mass. The scent was of ripe fruit — at once surprising and intoxicating. I hope this jumbled log stack remains for a bit, but seeing that it's the city, with ordinances and such, I imagine it will soon disappear. No photos of the amputated stump though — it seemed a sacrilege, an indignity to stand before it with my modern technology and bare its truncated soul.
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Oh, god. I hate a downed tree.
ReplyDeleteYou've put it so beautifully, T. It really is possible to get to know a tree one passes everyday. I once gave a class of 12 year old girls the assignment to choose a tree on campus and visit it regularly, throughout the seasons, recognizing and recording its feel, its smell and its habits. The result was some delightful poetry.
ReplyDeletePerhaps you can take home a piece of this tree?
That is a sad sight. I had a 200 year old "Witch Tree" with a hollow in the bottom. I put an child's china tea set in it for a future child to find. My kids loved the old oak and our duck used to sit on her eggs in the hollow. It came down in an earth shaking crash one night in an ice storm.
ReplyDeletethat, sure enough, is a very large tree. I've had to take out trees when they encroach on a building or paving. never easy. never welcomed. but sometimes painfully necessary.
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