We no longer live between the sycamores. The forestry department came out on Monday. The sycamore closest to Grand was dying and obviously on some sort of to-do list. The street was filled with orange trucks and tree-grabbers and mulchers and all that. Busy morning with the end of the street blocked and it's gone.
When we moved in, there were two sycamores down by Grand, one in the middle of the street, and one at the top corner. All the corner ones are gone now, leaving just this ancient tree in the center of the street, the tallest oldest tree on the block. Its days are numbered and I fear it will be replaced by some bozo tree like a bradford pear or flowering plum or something else ridiculous. We don't have wires in the front of our houses. We should have substantial trees. I know they are a risk in the ice storms and spring thunderstorms we get in the midwest, but they're worth it.
My house is now the most shaded on the north side of the block, with our black oak and sweetgum. They're both younger and healthier than the sycamores, but who knows? Neighbors to the east of us lost 3 American Basswoods in one year. How long until we're debating between zelkovas and oaks?
But I take this as a sign. I haven't been over here much in the past 6 months and it's time to integrate this into South City Musings. I use the same pseudonyms anyway. Gretchen and Zelda and Valerie live over there, too. So there you go. Because it's not going anywhere.
1 comment:
I hate it when trees must go. And sycamores...so sad. But integrating blogs? It happens. You're getting quite busy, my dear.
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