I could feel a hint of FALL coming down the stairs this morning---a fleeting coolth in the air, a little scent of something turning, turning, in all the green that swathes the outside of the house.
Our dear TREE had a “haircut” yesterday---a recent storm had dropped a bough gently onto the neighbor’s garage, with just the great bowers of leaves and branches touching, and the danger-half still hanging by a great sheaf of bark. The nice young man went up there like those small island boys after coconuts, going higher and higher amongst those huge smooth limbs til I was quite dizzy from the watching. He rigged ropes and pulleys and long poles in an intricate pattern, lifting and hauling, and shearing off the largest boughs, dropping them gently to his helpers on the ground.
Then he and his chainsaw made quick work of the broken limb, shearing it off back nearly to the tree in a cut neat as surgery. That out of the way and safely on the ground, he went round and round the tree, higher and higher, taking down dead limbs and hanging bits, a bit of deadwood and some hints of moss, til she was left clean and shining in the afternoon sun, like a lady stepping out of a salon.
Our TREE is a marvel---a hackberry of enormous size and presence, and one of the reasons we bought this house. I know her roots will probably crack foundations and tumble up sidewalks, plus the berries make an infernal mess, coming into the house pressed into the fanciful patterns of shoe-soles and lurking on the carpet for unwary bare feet, and we cannot keep up with the fall of the millions of leaves, onto patio and furniture even in Summer. But TREE is a literal Breath of Fresh Air and we love her.