Our old friend

This year, for some reason, I've been enthralled by and taken countless photos of trees. All manner of trees have fascinated me and prompted me to ponder their branching habits, shapes, environment, needs, and most particularly, their barks. The eye-level faces of trees have occupied much of my imagination since I traveled to the southwest in early Spring and first encountered an Alligator Juniper tree and saw evidence in that dry "face" of the protection that that skin brought the tree in that arid environment. I'm still thinking about that particular tree and fully intend to design a weaving project based on it. Since that discovery, I've really looked at trees and their "faces" like I never have before and found myself quite unhinged by this second and third and fourth viewing. Alpine Larch and Ponderosa Pine are two examples of very different trees existing in quite separate environments which have equally moved me. The Larch, in more alpine climes, looks almost dead. Many are quite thin looking with dark gray to almost black skins which seem gnarled and unhealthy but are really simply adapted to protect themselves from heavy snow and high winds in the mountains. Plus, the fir boughs which emerge from them in Spring and Summer look like the greenest green against such a dark, dead looking background. To me, these trees are just as beautiful as their much lower sloped Ponderosa Pines, a backbone to the timber industry and a plank in the foundation of Native American life. These Pines are tall and wide and their skin is a coppery/rust color which cracks to a dark brown/ black. Native Americans used every bit of these lovely trees from the roots to the treetops and continue to do so. As small as the Larches look, Ponderosa Pines seem immense enough to shelter gods in the heavens. Both are lovely to me and inspire me to design weaving drafts of them as well.
In the midst of all this " rediscovery of trees" this year, I've witnessed something in my own yard which breaks my heart. Our Dogwood, which bloomed so fully this Spring in particular, is old and nearly dead. It has been "falling to pieces" for years and we've had it inspected by tree experts before but, this year, we've seen a deterioration much more advanced than in the 17 years prior. So, another tree expert was called to have a look and his conclusion was that the tree is at the end of its days. When I asked him how old the tree was, he opined that the house (built in 1941) was built around the tree! If so, our lovely Dogwood must be upwards of 100!
Needless to say, I was both surprised and awed and even more saddened that it's life must end.

We could keep the tree alive for a while longer with heavy, selective pruning but a good stiff winter wind could very well blow it down and cause a lot of damage. So, we will have it cut down. There was a sudden chance to have it done tomorrow but we couldn't do that. It was too soon, too upsetting.

So, the tree will probably remain for another week or so for us to see, love, thank, honor. I'll remove all the bulbs in the rock garden at its base along with all the other plants there: day lilies, iris, hens and chicks, vanilla plant, bergenia, Japanese anemone, Serbian bellflower, epimedian (which cushioned the fall of the fledgeling Chickadee a year ago), Snow in summer, hyacinth, lilies of the valley, sweet woodruff. All will be replanted later. We'll distribute the tree's cut wood to neighbors who want and can use it as well as the wood chips from the branches. We'll save enough of the chips for us to use for mulch in our yard and eventually prepare the same site for another tree. I think that new tree, hopefully planted this fall, might just be another white Dogwood.