Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world. ~John Muir
The air was abuzz with the drone of chainsaws today, with pieces of giant pine trees crashing to the ground. A crew of tree workers felled every last tree in the yard across the street. Among them were some of the oldest white pines in the neighborhood, a couple of which were at least 24 inches in diameter. They were by far older and larger than my own red pines. One by one, they’ve come down today, their limbs being fed into the gaping mouth of the chipper as I write. Even the dogs are unnerved by the noise and horror of it all.
I’ve lived in this pine barrens neighborhood now for 18 years. I’ve tended my gardens, raked pine needles and oak leaves, sometimes growing weary of the annual task. But I’ve always understood that pine needles, leaves and even sap are all things that I signed on for when I moved into a pine forest.
Well, what was once a pine forest, anyway.
Cutting down the woods has been the neighborhood sport for years, as people “cleaned up” the trees to green up lawns and, occasionally, plant other kinds of trees. Not pine trees of any sort.
Over the years, I’ve even added a few firs, dogwoods, hemlocks and spruces. No longer a strictly pine barrens yard, it is never the less bursting with life, wildness and green.
Mine is a compact city neighborhood of 90 houses, built some 35 years ago around a small park and encircled by a wooded strip of commonly owned green space. Suffice it to say, most people here seem to hate the trees. When the tree service truck rolls into the neighborhood, it usually makes its way to more than one yard over the period of a few days. The contagion of “opportunity” to eradicate the trees once and for all spreads up and down the street. One such time, I watched 20 trees fall just two houses down the street.
Today’s death toll will be seven or eight, I think—at least, in the one yard in question. Whether other homeowners up and down the street will opt in to the “good deal” while the tree truck is “in the neighborhood,” I don’t yet know.
I am sick with grief. There’s the unspeakable violence to these beautiful, healthy trees. Over that, I am, quite literally, sick. But there’s more. I’m saddened by the realization that I may be alone in my appreciation for the trees and left feeling particularly without hope. My little sanctuary, with every passing year, becomes more and more an oasis in a desert of yards turned parking lots, stripped bare of any threat of falling pine needle or leaf.
There’s a time for removing trees. I’ve done it myself, but not without great sadness. In a wooded neighborhood, it can be a challenge to find a spot for a little garden. I can even understand removing a tree to protect the house from disaster. But every single, last tree?
At last count, I have 22 full-grown and happily growing trees on my tiny quarter acre property. I love every one of them, and appreciate each for its special gifts.
Somehow, I still manage perennials, blueberries, a thriving herb garden and small vegetable garden. Even some grass. All this, giving up just one tree to a storm years ago and three more to the tree “service” for the sake of sunshine on my vegetable garden.
People say they “hate” the pine needles and oak leaves. They say the trees might fall on their houses. The sap might drip on their cars. They want more sun, better lawns and a low maintenance yard. In some cases, they want more space to park cars. I wonder—how could so many people choose to move to a wooded neighborhood, only to strip the neighborhood of the woods that made it beautiful?
There are times—and this is one—when anger feels more constructive than sadness. Of course, the two are close friends. The truth is, anger has yielded to tears a few times today, only to rise up again with more fury than before. It’s been a long day.
Having argued on behalf of the trees more than once at neighborhood association meetings, I feel quite powerless against this phenomenon. I am, I’m afraid, quite alone on this issue. I long for the comfort of a community where trees are understood, valued and respected and hope that someday I will call that place home.
In the mean time, this is my home. Tomorrow, the sun will shine a little more brightly on my own yard, with the loss of these 80-foot giants across the way. My living room will flood with morning sunshine, and I will greet the moon each evening as it rises unobstructed over a new horizon.
Life will go on, and I’ll get used to the new landscape, I know. But I will never understand this nonsense.
Never.
I chose not to photograph the destruction I witnessed today, for fear of memorializing it and searing it into my memory, somehow making it even more real. Instead, I paid my respects to the lovely trees on this small piece of land under my stewardship, and thanked each one of them for being here for me today.
This is a sad but beautiful post. Sometimes people forget the deep wisdom that comes from their connection to the earth and all living things. Sometimes we forget to to listen to the whispers of life all around. But sometimes we remember, and we open up to the life force that we all share.
I’m sorry you lost those trees. Thanks for taking care of the ones you can.
Thank you. It’s scary to realize how few people share these values. Very scary, actually.
I absolutely love your title! Make sure to plant a seed or two of your own, to add growth and life in your world. Make life happen, it’s what we have to do to move on.
Kind of a sad plea, isn’t it? Yes, this is a good day for planting and nurturing new life. I’ll be working on my front yard vegetable garden which, ironically, will get a bit more sun now.
Having just seen the movie “Bully”, and then reading this post, I felt profoundly sad. We can be so disconnected from ourselves and not feel the consequences of our actions on others….be they people, trees, neighborhoods. May we all walk through this day feeling our own life force and our connection to all that is around us. Respect and appreciation, those are my words for the day. Thanks for such thoughtful words.
Thank you, Julie. I’m doing my best to get grounded again and just let this situation teach me all it has to teach. I’m thankful for what’s right under my feet today.
Well said Eleanor. People just seem to prefer their own fussy creations rather then appreciate the gifts that nature provides. Suburban American lawn care really kills me….
That would be unsettling to watch from your peaceful little haven…. maybe some cleansing ritual is in order : )
I think you’re right, Jackie. Thanks for being part of the community that makes me feel more connected and a little more hope.
Eleanor
You’re welcome. Same to you : )
I love how you have reached out and asked for (and received) community support on this. So often, we feel too isolated to take care of what we need by doing just that. As a traveler I have often noticed how we go through our lives at home (in our home territory) with blinders on, with no need of connection because we are ‘all set’ and ‘settled’. When traveling I notice that I am on ‘Open’ mode… looking to connect with the people of the land I am in (often with great results!). My own mission is to live in that ‘Open’ mode while at home, in my own territory, so as to be connecting in a real way with the people of my own region/territory/community. I’ve had some wonderful experiences meeting travelers to New Hampshire this way – where I am the Open Host as opposed to being the Open (more needy) Traveler. If we could only hold this Openness in our heart as we get caught up in our own routines, there would be more awareness of others and more harmony in our communities. Peace to you today. Ruth
Thank you for this. You’re so right. Often I sort of protect myself here at home by assuming there is no community here, in this immediate neighborhood anyway. It occurs to me now that at least some of the people who walked and cruised by last night to view the clearcut were sad also. Open host…. I like that a lot. Thanks, Ruth!
That’s an awesome thought Ruth. I have felt that way often, but never put words to it.
Beautiful writing Eleanor. The sadness of the situation comes through. I am sorry for this loss. I grew up in the pines and know the special feeling.
Thank you, Tammy. They are special trees. This morning, the sun is shining more brightly into my house, as I expected. In its own way, that’s a good thing.
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Such a shame … acknowledging such a loss is helping to right the wrong that has been done. As Fred Rogers said … “often when you think you’re at the end of something you’re really at the beginning of something else”. Bless the brightness now finding it’s way to your home.
Emily,
Thank you perspective. The sun is warming and nurturing again this morning. Although I still mourn the loss of the trees, I appreciate the perspective a few days can bring.
Eleanor
I agree with you – it is sad to cut down perfectly good trees for stupid and selfish reasons. Appreciating the trees in your space is the best thing you can do. I sometimes wish I had more sun, but I so love all the green that surrounds me – even the stately pines.
Ruth’s comment says a lot for the way I’ve been thinking about this New England area (having come back here from living in Florida for years) – where people tend to keep to themselves – they are all set and settled, without need of others. I find it too bad. It’s certainly not easy to make friends around here. Anyway that is another topic, but I think she said it quite well.
I appreciate the sun, too, but only in balance with the shade of a few trees. I think of trees, en masse, as the lungs of the earth. It scares me to think of their disappearance, which is something almost completely out of my control.
I loved Ruth’s comment too. Connecting with people who share core beliefs and values is so important. It’s important to remain open to these connections, wherever they may be.
Eleanor
I’m so sorry for your losses, E. It is so hard to understand why someone would, like you said, move to a wood…only to cut down all the trees. There should be a law against it….their property or not.
We LOVE trees. We have densely treed property line and they are all Manitoba Maples (Box Elders). They are weed trees and not in good shape. I must pull 500 seedlings a year. But still, the thought of getting rid of them all…I can’t imagine. We have done away way some, and will do away with more…but never all. And we will always replant a healthy, better suited tree. Trees, for us, are our connection to the earth. I can’t imagine wanting to be rid of them.
I’m going to email you a picture…hoping it might cheer you up. xoxo
Thanks, Debbie. One of the things I enjoy most about this blog is connecting with kindred spirits far and wide. It gives me hope that other people care also. It sounds like your relationship with your trees, even the ones you choose to cull, is a completely thoughtful one, and that’s what counts. Yes, those maples do sprout seedlings, galore. I pull my share of those as well, even with no maple trees on my property. Thanks for e-mailing the photo, too. It is so sweet! Now, that is one big white oak (and one little boy)!
As a farmer we require open space to make a living. However, there must be balance and I’m a tree hugger deep down. A healthy, well managed forest is a valuable resource (both physically and emotionally). It’s always sad when homeowners, disconnected from the natural world, clearcut in favor of a little grass… you’re clearly not alone in your grief…
No, I am not alone…at least, not in the broader community. Perhaps I am in this neighborhood, though. I’ve contemplated several times over this last week, since the cutting, how I might have responded differently if the owners were planning a huge front yard vegetable garden. Quite differently. I’ve even come to appreciate the increased sun on my own front yard. Overall, though, I’m still sad. I’ve been helplessly watching the disappearance of trees in this neighborhood for years, and all the rationalization in the world doesn’t change my sadness about it. It’s impossible to understand why people do this.
I intended to comment earlier but am glad I waited, the discussion has brought more food for thought. Like you, I cringe when I hear chainsaws being used in my neighborhood, it means the cutting down of more trees. Certainly intentions differ, what saddens me are inalterable actions by neighbors who then move away and leave damaged landscapes, and with no consideration for the future. As was once said, “Asphalt is the land’s last crop.”
It seems like everyone who moves in needs to make his/her mark on each little lot—take down trees and shrubs, dig up gardens for lawn, lay patios, even pave wider driveways, etc. It’s sad to watch, especially when they move on, leaving the land in worse shape than they found it. Trees take a long time to grow. The decision to cut should show appropriate respect for that fact. Thanks for chiming in!
Eleanor
The Tree has been around a lot longer than Man, who has given man the right to do this. We in the future will be very sad looking back at our actions. Would it make a difference if the Tree spoke to man. I feel the same about road kill, if a baby human was dead on the highway man would scream murder, yet a baby fox, or badger, nothing plain ignorance. Well it is not bliss. There are no excuses when it comes to harming our fellow co creators. A great Oak thousands of years of age, has regardless of what we know, are they sentient ? we know they are living, they have life force, that pretty much is living, do they speak? i cannot hear them but that does not warrant me to say they do not speak? That Oak tree has within it so much Perennial Wisdom, so much place that we are young beings on this planet need to take a step back in wonder and regard this, else we are missing a big part of why we are here. No body has a right to chop let alone chainsaw a tree, in the present day of man and his ego. Is it different if you are seeking to keep your family warm, sheltered, keep them warm. I think there can be a balance with man utilising the natural resources, but this turning the tree then into wood chip is senseless misuse of our natural resources. Decisions made by who knows. It upsets me and it is hard work. But what i know is i want change, and by seeing this, it fuels us to create our own garden where we are planting and creating a balance. We wish to be or create a community, where trees all trees and crops, and plants, flora fauna are all together, linking all the canopies and utilising the space, gone are the days of fields for crops, this style of farming is over, does not work, the bees are showing us that. A return to the old ways. Farming is new, fast food eating, processed food all new. We did not get here on this way of living. We got here through our love and celebration of the seasons and the natural abundance, we were moving with the seasons. Migration is not a new thing. Our patterning is not stationary unless we are a tree and then we are ebb and flowing reaching out, throwing out seeds, whoosh what do i know Eleanor, just a messenger and sending some appreciation to you, for following our blog, we share and give thanks. Peace x
I am both saddened and encouraged by your comment. Living in this neighborhood where trees are sacrificed for lawns, it’s heartening for me to know that there are people like you out there. I worry that there are not enough of us, and that it’s too late. Even so, we have to carry on and live our values, sharing them with other people. Thank you for letting me know that I’m not alone.
Eleanor
You are not alone x There are six of us who care. x