One stabilizing and static influence in my life was about to die. After 150 years, only 10 years younger than the Beachburg Fair, with bark peeling off and branches and twigs breaking free to come to a rest on the ground or on the roof of the house, all because of a gentle breeze let alone a brisk one. The big elm tree which could have taken out power lines on two streets, was in the immediate neighbourhood of a school, and a church with parking too near it during services. It stood there valiantly in the same spot my entire life. Though disgruntled, I knew it had an incurable disease and so I consulted with Hydro One Forestry.
The supervisor came to take a look. He called the next day and said, “As I left Beachburg, I saw the top of that tree and knew exactly where it was located. It is possibly the tallest tree in the village standing about 85 feet.” A little exaggerated so I checked and it could be seen from Lookout Road.
Trees cause more than 30 percent of power outages in Ontario and can also cause fires and property damage. That’s why Hydro One takes tree clearance requirements for power lines seriously to make sure that lines are kept clear and safe.
This tree had its end of life on July 26th. Two very qualified forestry technicians deftly trimmed the branches until they were able, piece by piece, to reduce the length of each of the many limbs like a chef slicing vegetables without danger to anyone or property. One tree toad did succumb to the drama. One typical chainsaw versus a monster and the chainsaw won — handily. Part of the trunk was left in place for reverence, maybe to have decorated or carved. One lady in passing suggested a totem pole – good idea!
Mixed feelings of the loss, a lifetime mate who stood on watch for all those years, triggered a torrent of other memories. A Manitoba maple tree in front of the house was the locale where my brother, four-years old at the time, fell from the tree and broke his arm. A generation later, his son at the same age was visiting and fell out of a birch tree which had replaced the maple one and broke his arm. His cast was green and he was quite proud of it. There was also a husky maple in the backyard. As a youngster, friends and I built wood platforms within the limbs. A rope ladder led up to them, a rope that could be pulled up for security against what I don’t know. Here, we told secrets, discussed neighbourhood rumours and planned what mischief we might pull next. A bella vista apple tree has stood on the other side of the house from the elm since before I was around, still producing delicious apples, ready in mid-august, well ahead of most.
One time with my brother’s help, we took a variety of tree samplings back to Wasaga Beach for planting on my own property. Of the six, only one birch didn’t make it, the rest thriving and in not so many years were almost full grown. I even extended a back porch and worked around one tree so as not to disturb it. It also had its own railing to preserve its potential growth. When I eventually sold that house, I missed all the trees I had planted the most.
One bizarre thing involved a butternut tree down River Road. My Dad and I, when I was a kid, picked a small pail of the butternuts with the intention of cracking them and using the nuts in homemade fudge. It never happened. Needed to be stored for a few years to dry out first, they were placed in the attic. Years went by. When I moved to Toronto I remembered them and took with me for safekeeping. Forty years later when I returned to Westmeath the butternuts were still attached to my hip. Almost like a curse I couldn’t shake them. That is until last year when my partner Sheila gave me an ultimatum. Surprisingly after I tossed them I felt relieved.
Flowers, I don’t give a darn about; don’t know the difference between a petunia and a daffodil! Trees are another matter. I have a passion for the vast variety of trees: flimsy or gnarly, gigantic or mediocre, ancient or young, hollow or blossoming – they are all captivating but that huge elm, my favourite, is lost but not forgotten.
