Up front by our driveway we have an old locust; it’s probably been there since the house was built, I suspect, which would put it about 70 years old. It has had a growing hollow space in its trunk for a few years. It was, actually, a bit charming. All it wanted was a brightly painted door to make a perfect little home for elves.
But it was in danger of collapse. I was pleasantly surprised that it survived the last couple big storms, but has to come down. It’s a bummer. I always grieve when a tree in the neighborhood is taken out. I’m grateful for those who planted them.
Added grief, a nest of three baby squirrels fell, at one stage. Two survived the fall, so Erik put on gloves and moved them to the top of the warm compost, near the other big tree on our property. Their mom ran away, and hopefully they find one another again. The babies were pretty big, so maybe they will be ok regardless. And they are well hidden from predators there. It is the best we can do.
Some upsides: I will never need to buy firewood again. I have a giant pile of mulch to spruce the beds this spring.
And, we asked our Tree Guy to evaluate the true king tree in our yard, the big pine. It lost more than half its branches in the last storm, so Erik and I have been both coming to terms with the fact it will probably need to come down. But the diagnosis may not be terminal! He’ll take a closer look when he comes back on Thursday to finish the locust, but there’s a chance!
Notebook 