(S)lumbering giant

Yesterday a giant fell--or was it pushed? The resident lumberjack stretched ropes from the tree to the tractor and pulled them taut, made some cuts with the chainsaw and slammed in wedges, and then when the chainsaw wouldn't reach any farther, he stood by while the wind nudged the giant tulip poplar gently to the ground, dropping it neatly between the cliff, the house, the phone line, and the septic tank.

The septic tank was the reason I didn't have this tree removed by professionals, who were understandably reluctant to park their lift trucks on top of the septic tank. My husband kept insisting that he could take the tree down himself, but I was skeptical; it was huge, close to the house and phone line, hard to reach by ladder because of the uneven ground, and capable of doing immense damage to life and limb if it didn't fall exactly right. I guess I should have been more trusting, because when I got home yesterday, the tree was on the ground.

I loved that tree, which rose majestically next to the back deck. It blossoms attracted hummingbirds and other pollinators, and it provided shade and beauty for the whole back yard. But large limbs were dying and the ground around the base was getting soft, and we didn't want it falling on the house, so it was time to take measures.

Fortunately, we already have a replacement: the resident lumberjack dropped the tree so carefully that a skinny offshoot remained standing in place, promising more shade and beauty for years to come. It never looked like much, but with the giant lying on the ground, the little upstart fills the space nicely.

Now the giant lies on the ground, ready to be cut up for firewood. Its shade kept the house cool for decades, and now its wood will keep the house warm all winter. 

You can see the offshoot behind the stump.

The chainsaw pierced a cavity full of water, making it a wet project.

Slumbering giant