Tree Down

Tree Down

Trees are lovely assets to any community. They provide shade in the hot weather. They offer shelter to squirrels and birds. They come in a great variety, which adds interest to the landscape, and their height graces their surroundings with dignity. Yet we hardly think about what they offer, until they fall.  

One day this past week, a tree along a busy street came down, the result of a raging, gusty wind that swept through South Jersey. The trunk reached out from the curb’s edge and stretched across the sidewalk and over the homeowner’s front lawn, spreading its branches onto the shingled roof of the house. Every driver that passed by stopped; it wasn’t something to ignore.

This was not the only tree to fall. Others landed on houses and cars, took down power lines and left families without electricity. 

What made me pay particular attention to this tree, besides the fall itself, was how it was uprooted. The curb was undisturbed. There were hardly any roots extending from the trunk and the roots that were visible on the bottom were small and shallow, seemingly incapable of holding up such a large structure. You could not tell from looking at the tree that it had no firm foundation. How could it have developed a strong, expansive root system hemmed in, as it were, by cement?

In retrospect, it was surprising that it had remained upright for as long as it did. But there is strength built into the genetic code of the tree, even if we can’t see it. And there is strength inherent in the human code, as well. Trees and people start small yet given the right environment in which to grow, they become powerful. And that strength can overcome obstacles, seen and unseen.

The tree held on as long as it possibly could, given the surrounding conditions. I admire that, as I admire and appreciate the tenacity of people surviving, and often thriving, despite difficult circumstances. Strength is not always visible on the outside but it exists in all of us, to be respected and valued and remembered when it is gone.

For more of the story, written by Carol Comegno for the Courier-Post, and more photos:  

http://www.courierpostonline.com/article/20130201/NEWS01/302010038/Strong-gusts-down-trees-utility-lines-throughout-S-J-  

Airplane in the Plum Tree

Last fall a neighbor’s preteen son got his toy airplane tangled up in the ornamental flowering plum tree in our front yard. I came outside to see him and three friends on my lawn shouting and throwing sticks and stones into the branches. They succeeded in dislodging lots of leaves and a couple of twigs but the plane remained in place. I didn’t want them to be disappointed but I also didn’t want my poor tree harmed. One of the boys had been vigorously climbing among the branches and the wood was bending. I did some shouting myself, demanding that the boy get down before he got hurt. Although the tree is not a sapling, it is delicate and not used to holding that kind of weight. I assured them that when my husband came home we would get out our ladder and rescue the plane. By early evening we did get the plane down and I returned it. We had been very careful not to damage the toy though I wasn’t so sure about the state of the tree after its ordeal.

Now it’s spring and the tree is beginning to blossom. There are pink buds on all the branches but there are also snapped-off edges to some of the limbs that give evidence to the fall’s trauma. Trees must have hearty souls. The Bradford Pear in the yard next door lost half of itself, a large trunk’s worth, during a storm yet it is sealed off the damage and is flowering. The township cuts large gaps in the trees that grow around utility lines and the trees, even in their truncated state, continue to send out leaves.

I respect trees. Their variety is incredible and their strength inspiring. Trees feed us and shade us and provide beauty of form, color, and perseverance. They even support housing for lots of creatures and when they are harvested, housing for us as well. I guess I needn’t have worried about my little plum tree; it can take look out for itself. But I do hope it knows that I care.