Both Beloved and I belong to the generation which has life-long ‘Saving’ with a capital ’S’ as part of their genetic makeup. We, that is me in particular, have in recent years been a little less dogmatic about the rainy day vision and the need for having a large umbrella to catch the inevitable downpour, and I have persuaded us to allow ourselves the really rather modest luxuries we indulge in; in other words, becoming skiers, spending the kids inheritance. All the same, just as well that the Boomer years have meant well for such as us, because the rains have started to fall in earnest.
On top of the newly necessary sums of money we need to spend on carers, assistance in house and garden, etc. the property itself is falling down around us. In the case of trees literally so.We had very high winds during the weekend and when Millie and I went for our morning walk on Monday we found a huge chunk had fallen out of the beech tree. As we are on the edge of the castle grounds this was cause for concern. Had somebody been walking in the moat at that precise moment they’d never walk again, they’d be dead. As it was the second time within a week that a branch had come adrift I thought I’d better call Jonathan, a proper, bona fide, letters-after-his-name arborist. First of all to remove the part-corpse from the path, secondly to cut it up and chip the unwanted bits, and thirdly to give me an idea of the state of the patient’s health or otherwise.
Jonathan hedged his bets. “Well, hm, I can see none of the funguses (fungi? or is that only for mushrooms?) associated with large trees. “ ( The beech is at least 70 feet tall - it’s massive). “On the other hand, there is some die-back which might indicate that the tree is stressed.” The tree is stressed? What about me? I am stressed just thinking about his hourly rate! “On the whole the limb sections look normal, it could just have been the high winds. Or mechanical weakness”. Deep breath out . “On the other hand. . . . .” Renewed intake of breath on my part. The noughts are simply tumbling into place following the initial figure, in itself a fearful thought!
We’ve left it that I keep a very close eye on developments and call him the minute I see anything untoward, like a white blob or a tarmac-like black blob on the stem near the ground. Mind you, Jonathan says, sometimes these blobs come out and immediately withdraw into the tree again, like they are some delicate violet shrinking away from the light of day.
A definite help, that.
This is the third and last of our large trees threatening imminent departure. We’ve lost the sycamore and the horse chestnut to a deadly fungal disease, I really don’t want the beech to go as well. It’s also the last of the beeches, there were three originally, two before our time; we have merely the stumps left, one of which has thrown up a large new limb which might not be viable for long, coming from a diseased parent plant. We still have more normal sized trees, like maples, a few ash trees, ancient hawthorns and a thirty year old walnut, mere Johnny-come-latelies compared to the big boys who may have seen a few hundred years of tourist activity around the castle since the Normans first threw it up to ward off those Welsh barbarians, thinly disguised as tourists but really after Norman damsels. And loot, of course. As well as the land the Normans stole from them.
Seriously, my garden is not some suburban plot with a few newly planted decorative specimens. even the plum and apple trees are groaning under the weight of considerable agedness; they really are in need of chopping down! Everything in Valley’s End is old, including the human inhabitants, so we should all be left in peace and allowed to disintegrate into the ground gracefully, as nature intends for all of us.
To quote Jonathan once more : “if the beech were in a field or a wood somewhere it could just shed limbs as it went along. It might take another hundred years over it. As the saying goes: A hundred to grow, a hundred to stay and a hundred to die.” Lovely.
So true that when it rains, it pours. As for saving for a rainy day -- hard to predict how many rainy days there may be. Ah-h-h, the uncertainty of life -- tree or human.
ReplyDeleteHi Friko - well I'm certainly glad that story line wasn't worse. Love the idea of the tree growing for 100 years, living a hundred and taking its time sinking back to ground level ... gently does it - with a few storms around to blow the weakened pieces down. I'm glad Jonathan is around for advice, help and 'the doing' ... cheers HIlary
ReplyDeleteSigh. I hope it can be saved. Those early warning signs sound incredibly tricky. Politicians of disease.
ReplyDeleteSome people might say that losing a tree is not heart tugging, but I agree with you. Taking one down is both an emotional and financial hardship. We will probably be cutting down a beloved tree at the end of the summer because of the danger it presents, and it is something that is causing me a great sorrow.
ReplyDeleteOh, I understand. It's so expensive. I hate to see a tree come down (I have one in the back yard right now that came down while I was away and until I land here for more than a few days at a time can't call to have it hauled away. I'm getting very tired of looking at it -- but at least it didn't fall on the house.)
ReplyDeleteYou're right about the high cost of living -- care aside (and I know how that is, too, from my dad), just owning space can really get to you. Last year, we had to have three (tall, dead) pines come down up north. There are so many, most wouldn't miss them, but I do. Add all the rest of the house things -- yikes. We have something here called the Emerald Ash Borer that goes for ash trees -- practically extinct in our region.
But I'm glad that the storm missed your roof -- or some walker!
Pouring, indeed, and I do understand how trying and unsettling life can be when such things cost an "arm and a leg", or in this specific case, "a limb and a tree". What a lovely phrase - A hundred to grow, a hundred to stay and a hundred to die. We rarely see trees last 100 years here in the Midwest, in part due to urban development, in part because they just don't thrive in clay.
ReplyDeleteSo glad to be reading your work again. We had to down a tree last year and miss the shade but was diseased. I planned on putting Sedum in the stump but haven't as of yet. We have had more rain and terrible flooding in the US this year. Thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteso sad when large mature trees go. we have a large very mature chinese tallow. they aren't very long lived trees I hear and this one must be near its allotted time as it is huge. it gives us privacy from our absent neighbor's bright light that goes on every night as well as shade in the mornings. it drops small branches. we also have three mature pecans which shade the big backyard one of which has dropped 5 large branches in the last two years.
ReplyDeleteI can relate. I was heartbroken when Mabel the Maple came down in a bad hurricane but then as her limbs were being lopped off for firewood, she rose again and is lush and beautiful once more. I must post a current picture of her.
ReplyDeleteGlad you are safe from harm. Rainy days are good.
XO
WWW
When my family visited last weekend we were talking about the cottonwood tree my Dad and I planted at the old house 60 years ago and wondering if it was still standing. My brother, SIL, and mother stopped on their way home to take pictures I will post next time (been sick all week). It's lost a big branch, but otherwise looks good. I get very attached to trees. I hope you can keep yours a long time yet. :)
ReplyDeleteNo part time lumberjacks in your neighborhood that burn wood in their stoves...that would be a perfect match:)
ReplyDeleteBeech/ birch? trees never last long here in Alberta, Canada, friend F ... deer, moose and my cattle just love them to death ... all we have is poplar, spruce and willow ... hmmm, yes ... willow is loved to death by porcupine regularly and actually ... smiles ... talk about circle of life, hmmm? Love, cat.
ReplyDeleteAs your fellow senior, I'm experiencing the same issues. I had much work done on my house exterior this summer. I really need some new appliances. there goes the money kids!
ReplyDeleteDear Friko, I cannot read the word beech without thinking of Sherlock Holmes and the copper beeches. Having gotten that reminiscence out of the way, let me say how interesting I found this post. I am very glad that no one was injured by the recently fallen branch.
ReplyDeleteWhere I grew up was a heavily wooded area, in which most of the old oak trees had been kept as houses were built in the late 1940s or early 50s. Leaf raking was a massive project every autumn and winter, over and over again. The trees around my parents' house continued to grow taller and taller. The front and back yards (gardens) were very shady...not great for growing flowers, but providing welcome cool spots on hot summer days.
Earlier this summer the area was in the path of a violent windy, thunderstorm, and one of the trees in the backyard lost many limbs, and its actual trunk began to tilt towards a neighbor's house. My Mom had to make yet another decision to have a tree taken down.
There is a bit of irony now that my Mom is too frail to do any gardening that her back yard has gradually become quite sunny.
I always liked that saying about the three hundred years. Very true.
Thanks again for this post. xo
I'm holding my breath over our giant oak in front. It looks hale and hearty, but it did lose a major limb (which itself was the size of an average tree) after an unseasonable snowstorm a few years ago when the leaves where still on it.
ReplyDeleteAt this point, it has a limb so large that it crosses the road and hangs over the neighbor's yard.
Only where we live now have we had the experience of paying attention to the health and life spans of large trees. For the most part, they live until they die without our intervention, then fall to the ground when done. But there remains the problem of all the trees that line our driveway. After a big wind, we'll sometimes find a large limb or two has dropped, which leads us to think what might come next. Once, a tree cracked just as we were driving past it; fortunately, it fell away from the driveway, and there it still stands, tipped halfway over, propped against another tree. We say to one another, we should probably get a "tree guy" in again; but then they are so expensive, and their recommendations are questionable at best. Still, we'll likely do it at some point. Meanwhile, we hope the trees and we have a bargain to live and let live.
ReplyDeleteThere are some really nice trees in my neighborhood, though what surrounds my immediate area is mostly asphalt, unfortunately. I wish there were more trees and far fewer people. Sometimes, I wish I could go live on an island away from most of humanity but that is simply not practical. Instead, I must contend with a neighbor who smokes and is slowly making my flat smell like the bottom of an ash can despite the fact that she is above me and not in the same apartment...Trees are more easily dealt with, I think.
ReplyDeleteThank you once again, guide. The older we get, the more valuable and piquant your posts become, dear U
ReplyDeleteOh yes, we are saving our pennies in order to hire an arborist to restore what was once a wonderful view. I love the hundred year saying . .
ReplyDeleteLove your summary of history along the Welsh border!
ReplyDeleteWe have some huge tulip poplars that could come crashing down in a big wind. We have some wild cherry trees that drop big branches whenever. Trees are indeed expensive luxuries.
ReplyDeleteId make it safe for passerbys, then leave what I could for the woodpeckers and nuthatches. A Robin might even enjoy a branch. I've always been fond of the picturesque look myself and what better model than a beech?
ReplyDeleteI can relate to this so much. Since I made the decision to start drawing on savings and not denying myself things I need, I've felt so much more free. I too have had trees fall and may have to be proactive about having some felled before they fall on someone. It's so sad, but I take heart from the new seedlings that are coming up everywhere.
ReplyDeleteMy mother used to pat the sofa and say , "This 'll see me out ."
ReplyDeleteI find I'm doing the same to things now , keeping my fingers crossed .
It's true, that business of casting an eye on possessions and doing the mental calculation. As far as I'm concerned, the car I have now -- just a youngster at five years -- is the last I'll have. Likewise furniture, and so on. As for your trees: losing them is so distressing. When Galveston lost thousands of trees all at the same time, in Hurricane Ike, it was a community-wide trauma. The great irony is that most of the oaks that were lost were planted after the Great Storm of 1900 -- to replace the oaks lost them. We speak so easily of the cycles of life, but it can be a real jolt to see those cycles turning.
ReplyDeleteI don't blame you for wanting to hold on to that beech. Old trees are dear to me.
ReplyDeleteWe have an ancient oak tree that I fell in love with the moment I saw it. It was hugely damaged in 2005 in an ice storm and had a lot of limbs pruned short. You cannot tell it was ever hurt except when it looses is leafy dress! Trees are a wonder!
ReplyDeleteOh to be as placid as a beech!
ReplyDelete