Three Trees Down

I grew up in the house my dad’s dad built. Grampy passed away just one month before my parents were married, so I never had the opportunity to meet him. But I’ve been told we would have adored one another.

I may never have seen Grampy walk through the front door of our house, but he left behind plenty pieces of himself. He carved the names of his four kids into the cement patio floor. He hand constructed window frames that still keep us warm. And he planted pine trees along the property line.

Unfortunately, three of those trees fell to the ground on Sunday night.

I left the house around 6:30 that night to drive back to my apartment. I had considered spending the night due to approaching storms, but I had a mandatory Monday morning meeting to prepare for. It wasn’t until after said meeting that I heard the news.

Apparently nobody inside heard the trees fall outside. It happened in the middle of the night, and the destruction was discovered by my sister when she walked out the front door to climb into her car and drive to school. Had her yellow Beetle been parked just a few feet closer to the house, it would have been buried by branches. Had I decided to spend the night, my red Civic would have buried, as well. As luck would have it — which was very unlucky for one member of the family — only one car was hit, and it was my dad’s blue Passat.

It’s sad, really, to say goodbye to trees that were part of both my dad’s childhood and my own. Grampy nurtured those trees from seedlings. They provided shade and privacy. The provided a canopy for tree forts and a “base” for games of tag. They were a welcome site as I turned down Andover Drive and approached the place my family has called home for 46 years. They will be missed.

7 thoughts on “Three Trees Down

  1. What a shame – I hate to see trees go down, especially ones with emotional significance. My parents have a tree that has to be over 100 years old (I can’t even reach half-way around it) and I always felt bad when it creaked and groaned in the wind and then lost branches.

    1. Mandy, we’re planning to plant new trees in their places, but it will never quite be the same. (By the way, thanks so much for the opera fudge! I limited myself to three pieces tonight, which was extremely difficult.)

      1. I’m so glad you enjoyed the opera fudge. I have to get the recipe to you and Nick so you can give it a try yourselves.

  2. I know exactly how you feel – a series of three hurricanes in short order knocked down nearly every huge, oooooold pecan tree that lined on our family farm. It hasn’t looked the same since. Such a different feeling pulling up to it now.

  3. Oh wow that is so sad! I know its odd but I sometime grieve for trees when they fall or are cut down….almost like they were people. They just chopped down all the trees lining our street and it made me really sad for some reason that I cannot verbalize properly…but not seeing them everyday is depressing.

  4. Ah I’m bummed for you losing these trees. I know what you mean by how it will never be the same. A tree that was in my grandma and grandpa’s yard that I always played on growing up was recently uprooted as well and it was weird to go over and see it not there!

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