Woodman, Spare That Tree!

Or not, as the case may be.

We live on about two acres of old Tennessee farmland. We have a lot of trees around the house, in various sizes and health. Two years ago Mother's Day, at about eight o'clock in the morning, we had a frightful storm, and one of our trees was struck by lightning. The trunk of the tree at about forty feet was shredded, and over the years, the part of it that decided to lie done and rest has broken from the rest of the tree. It has been perched over the driveway and we've decided that it would be better that it come down in a controlled manner than elsewise.

At that particular place, two trees are growing together, their branches intertwined like two lovers resisting the force that wants to tear them apart. It is an inspirational contortion of living maple trees.

The people who lived here for well over a hundred years had a notion that metal should be allowed to return to the earth when it was no longer of use. Every time we dig in the garden we find bits and pieces, but the piece that gets most noticed is the chain that rests, partially seized, in the spot where the two trees meet, a few feet above the ground, as though a shade-tree mechanic has been working on a tractor there and has just left the chain there until he gets a drink of water from the well.

So in a few weeks, if the woodman who gave us a quote this morning comes back, you'll be able to drive in, up the grade past the two trees, assured that the broken part of the tree won't fall on your car. He'll spare the trees, just take the dead part out.