Red Plum is down

 

We had the last big tree taken out yesterday. It started life 29 years ago as an innocent volunteer from the red plum next door. For years, it was small, balancing out the lilac bush behind the garage. When it topped the roof, it was a lovely sight of pink against the white blooms of the nearby yellow plum rising into the blue sky. Then, a branch leaned over the roof and I did not think to pull it away. The branch became half of the central trunk—and the cat highway to the ridgeline—and the garage started to groan when the wind blew. There was no way to cut out just the half of the trunk that was creating the problem (we asked), so the tree had to come down.

It took about five hours yesterday. They pruned away all of the tangled little branches and chipped them up, then cut down the main stems into firewood sized chunks which they piled neatly behind the garage. They will need to be split before they can be burned but they can become yard plant stands as is. Mark and I spent the afternoon spreading the chips, resurfacing the pathway between the shed and the driveway and between the four oldest beds. The tree may be down, but all of it is still on our property, slowly adding to our carbon sequestration plan.

There is now a bit of a hole in the space. Last spring, we planted a cherry and an Italian plum tree nearby to take advantage of the light and to begin to recreate the shade we have lost. But we need to plant something against the house because this is the space that holds the bed in the summertime. So the questions begin: what will create a screen in the summer, not want a great deal of water, perhaps produce a crop of some kind, grow quickly, and balance out the ancient lilac on the other corner? How do we shape that space so that it is screened but not a jungle? Will the old grape vine rise for the base of the tree again and should we just build it a trellis? Will we ever have this tenth of an acre shaped as we want it?