About five years ago, a friend mentioned that Bradford pears had a tendency to split once they got too big. About two weeks ago, Debra mentioned the same fact. Are you getting the sense that this story has sort of a tragic ending?
Here's a picture of The Tree from 2007. (In the foreground are the four Evil Bushes that encroached on my front porch until I hired someone to rip them out.)
Six-year-old Addie spent many happy hours in The Tree:
By the spring of 08, The Tree was a pretty respectable size, especially for six-year-old Stuart and two-year-old Daphne:
Last fall, there was enough of The Tree to provide refuge for little boys who didn't want to start co-op.
In the summer of 09, Daphne flew many miles with her Baby Dragon:
My niece Katie caught Pip enjoying The Tree this past spring:
And this summer, Daphne was still flying:
But here's where the story gets sad. This afternoon, a freak windstorm screamed through our neighborhood.
Stuart says he likes the "new version" of The Tree, and there were kids swarming over the fallen branches all afternoon and evening. There have been many tears (all female) over the fact that we have to have The Tree chopped down. Let's don't even discuss Daphne and her Baby Dragon.
We've lost a good friend. We'll miss The Tree.
-- SJ
10 comments:
That is sad. I miss trees from former houses like old friends. It was a beautiful tree.
SAD times! I totally feel your pain. There was a huge beautiful liquid amber tree in my mom's front yard all of my childhood. I was not allowed to climb it until it was big enough and therefore never got to since I grew faster than the tree. (I will neither confirm nor deny sneaking up the tree on certain Oct 31 to launch water balloons at unsuspecting passersby. Great memory!) The tree died a slow death until a few years ago we finally had to have an tree-man come and do The Deed.
It should be noted that I have four younger siblings, the youngest of which is 16. Three of them are boys. NONE of us like to talk about or discuss the loss of the tree as it is an invitation for tears.
So its with empathy that I affirm your grief. Even if it was just a tree.
No shade out front. We will have to discuss kind of tree and cost; you need to replace the pear with the largest tree you can afford. This is sad, but maybe will result in a sturdy tree.
Liquidambar, if Janice and I are thinking of the same tree, is sweet gum to us.
That is so sad:( We just planted some flowering pear trees...are they the same as what you just had to take down? I know they grow fairly quickly and Lowes had them on sale last fall, end of the season for 75% off...gotta love sales:)
Ha, Janice! And I'm torn between whether Liquidamber or Sweetgum is the prettier name. Both, I assume, have those wicked little spiky balls, though.
Mom -- I was thinking maybe a maple?
Becky -- Ours was a flowering pear, fast-grower, etc. You probably got a Bradford. They're pretty trees and great for shade. Their only drawbacks are their blossoms (beautiful but they smell like something dead) and, of course, their tendency to snap violently apart in high winds.
Sad, sad stuff. I just read a kid's book about a tree who they grew up with, then the inevitable happened. I cried in the bookstore.
Maples are good.
I'm crying. I'm crying for you and the kids, and for me and mine. Oh, the poor lovely tree!
Poor Joneses. Poor tree.
:-(
I am So Sorry. The tree was part of your family and life, and offered joy to grandparents' visits too. Yay for Mary for lookin' to the future starting right now. Amen. Maple trees are good, & part of Darren's Canadian heritage.
Fun to see the kids straddling and giving a good send-off to their friend.
Love, Nana
So glad you had so many pictures of the tree! I hate seeing the tree on the ground, but the new tree you plant will make more memories!
-Nina
I've had very little sleep. That is why this post just brought tears to my eyes. Right? I am sorry, though. Trees are good friends.
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