Coming home from work last night was odd. The old oak tree was gone, as well as a small mulberry tree that it destroyed when it fell in Friday night’s storm. They also removed another tree along the driveway that wasn’t especially nice but had been there for my entire life.
In short, home looks almost unrecognizable now.
After writing Ode To An Old Friend Destroyed By Storm this weekend, I witnessed county workers cutting the tree out of the road. It all reminded me of something I read in college. It’s a passage from the classic book “Night Comes To The Cumberlands” by Harry S. Caudill.
Here’s part of the passage:
“When approximately one third of the trunk had been chopped away, the axes were laid aside and a long cross-cut saw was laid to the opposite side. For an hour or two the droning teeth gnawed their way into the vitals of the centuries-old titan. Suddenly, when the unsevered wood was only inches thick, the dying monster swayed and crashed to the earth. Its descent was terrific, its ancient branches tearing a mighty swath through lesser timber on the hillside below. The mountains and valleys echoed and re-echoed the thunder of its fall. Wild creatures fled the area in fright; then, a moment later, the thunder was replaced by a curious stillness as though the forest and all its creatures had paused to mourn the passing of one of its patriarchs.”
If you’re a regular reader here and this sounds familiar, I once referenced this passage in another story.
While the tree’s demise was caused by nature rather than humans, the imagery of the creatures of the forest pausing “to mourn the passing of one of its patriarchs” seemed fitting. The forest fell quiet just before the chainsaws buzzed and it remained quiet for a while after.
And so ends the story of our friend, the grandfatherly old tree who gave shelter and beauty to all who sought it.
There’s an adage that says “blessed are those who plant trees under whose shade they will never sit.”
I think it’s time to plant some trees.
