Trees

 

           Trying to avoid disheveled bearded man with brown and white Pitbull mix, I turn onto Grant Street from 30^th. Much of my walking does involve avoiding people. Even if they’re wearing a mask, I just don’t want to breathe their air. But who knows? Maybe the Virus just floats in the air at this point. My mom said it comes in through our eyes. Damn. What next? Our skin? Our skulls?

            A man is in his driveway, cleaning his car off with a big broomlike handheld apparatus. It reminds me of when we visited Greece decades ago and how the men there would clean their taxies with brushes like this. No water there. No water here now either. Is this man cleaning his car like this cuz of the drought? (A fact that has become lost in all the crises that abound now: Covid, Protests, Politics, Wildfires and Hurricanes.) Of course, the wildfires that are devasting our inner landscapes can be directly tied to climate change and the drought. But I rarely hear any mention of this connection. In any case, I approve of this man’s car cleaning methods as we exchange brief ‘good mornings’.

            Pulling up across the wide street, another man emerges from his car and hollers at Car Cleaning Guy. “Hey, Man, how’s it going? I have a question for you.”

            “Oh, yeah, the trees….”

            And I think, damn, it’s always about the trees with neighbors, right? Even though we’re in the midst of a killer pandemic, all the neighbors care about are the stupid trees. Not that the trees are stupid, but the neighbors are about them. Like there’s nothing else to worry about?

            My neighbor behind me hounded me for months about my avocado tree that was hanging over her backyard, the limbs beautiful and green. She was afraid that the bough would break and damage her $15,000 of hot tub equipment. Did I tell her to build her hot tub under the tree boughs? Wasn’t this her choice? And why am I responsible for this choice?

            She wanted to cut the bough down. She wanted me to split the costs with her, hundreds of dollars. I told her, no, I didn’t have the money to do this. And, besides, was it really necessary? Was the tree really gonna fall into her hot tub situation?

            She called an arborist. He came to my backyard, asked me questions, like: “Does the tree bear fruit?” (Yes) “How long have you lived here?” (9 years) “Have you had any problems with the tree in the past? (NO!) My neighbor stood with me in the backyard as he examined the tree, Athena, I’ve named her. The arborist liked this. “How old is she?” I asked.

            “Oh, I’d say about 60 or so years,” he mused, touching her mighty trunk and gazing at her leafy  bounty. “She’s a beautiful tree. I really wouldn’t recommend cutting any of her branches. Trees are living beings. The roots below are a system that balances the tree. If you cut the top of the tree or alter the balance in any way, then it can harm the tree. I tell people this, but if you really are set on trimming the branch overhanging in your neighbor’s yard…”

            “I’m not,” I proclaim, glancing at my neighbor, trying not to glare.

            “Well, then…..I wouldn’t recommend it,” he went on.

            “But will the tree fall into my yard?” my neighbor whined.

            He paused for a moment, then sighed deeply. “I can’t guarantee what Mother Nature will do, but just assessing the tree now, I’d say, no, it won’t fall into your yard. This is a healthy tree. It’s been here for decades. I’d leave it alone for now. If in a couple of years, you still want to trim it then give me a call. But for now, no, I’d say leave it.”

            Satisfied, I bid him goodbye, thinking the issue was resolved. But then my neighbor called again, still wanting to trim the tree. I told her how I thought the arborist had resolved the issue—the tree was healthy; it wouldn’t fall into her yard.

            She wasn’t buying it for some reason, “That’s not what I heard!”

            I then went back to my original reason for not trimming the tree. I didn’t have the money.

            She seemed to get this. At least for now.

            And today, with the pandemic taking away most of my work, I really can’t afford to do any tree trimming. It’s honestly the least of my problems. And fortunately, my neighbor has calmed down about it. I’m not sure why. She even emailed me a couple of times asking if she could pick up anything for me from the store when the pandemic first started back in March.

            Now, as I turn the corner and march down 29^th street, I wonder what the issue is with these two guys and ‘the tree’. I turn around and look at Car Cleaning Man’s yard. There’s just a sweet little Strawberry Tree in his front yard. Doesn’t look like any tree issue ready to happen.

            Yet, neighbors. They want to control your trees. So who knows.

            I sigh to myself as I continue down 29^th street, thinking how trees are our life. The wildfires are destroying entire forests right now and these trees will be gone for hundreds of years till new forests grow back. Ian even had a tree burn down in his front yard this last week. It’s so dry right now. Probably someone threw a cigarette butt on the dried up brown lawn. The tree went up in flames, a Roman Candle, Ian had said. Scary!

            Climate change. Pandemic. Protests.

            We need our trees. Leave them alone. Savor their sanctuary. And for Godsakes, let your neighbors concentrate on more important things.

            Like dusting their cars!

            The trees rustle in the breeze as I turn onto Roosevelt. I smile up at a huge pine tree on the corner, its mighty tallness sheltering the house, giving homes to the birds, and providing much-needed oxygen to our smoke-filled skies.

            Trees. They are our life. Love ‘em. Nurture ‘em. And please, don’t chop them down!