Jeez, do you ever want to write a snarkey letter to respond to a letter to the editor that you think is just goofy like we are a Republic not a Democracy and if we did have one vote one person Al Gore would have been president in 2001 with receiving the majority of the popular vote. And facts are funny things to liberals, whoever they are, because although global warming may be a hoax, the U.S. Coast Guard is considering what shipping lanes to keep open now the Arctic ice is melting so much (see Nevada Appeal article Aug. 24, 2008) and so on. But I won't do it because it's fall and kids need to be back at school, so let's have story time instead.
It's 94 years old give or take a ring. Some of the rings of the tree we cut down in front of our house were jammed so tight together, thin and narrow, they were hard to discern. The rings of the first 50 years had thin tight groups of four or five rings, but the last 40 year's rings are fat and distinct.
Last couple of years this cedar tree has been slowly dying from an infection we discovered in its center after cutting it down this past week when only one branch on its whole 30-foot trunk had any green color left. That tree and four others have been shading the front porch of this old ranch house for about 90 years now.
Trees are special items around our place. They are given as gifts for anniversaries, birthdays, holidays and general commemorative events. We planted white birch trees in the yard the same week we brought home each of our baby boys from the hospital. We have planted an orchard of fruit trees with the past 19 years of Father's and Mother's days. We nurture a row of aspens spreading out at the border of our property line, along the corrals, planted after we received title to this property.
The trees planted around the house, 90-plus years ago, mark permanence as well as provide comfort. Cutting one down is a significant event, like removing a page from a history book. We have pictures of deceased great aunts when they were young girls in white blouses and long dark skirts sitting in the yard with their long hair arranged in the popular loose bun of the day when this tree was just barely casting comforting shadows. Keeping the hot sun off of their smiling faces. Some of the trees in those black and white photos are now over 75 feet tall.
We asked our oldest son, Kyle, to cut the tree down before he headed back to college. I watched and suggested clever strategies on how to fell it, which he ignored, as he cut the tree in sections so it would not fall full length on the house or the front fence. When the tree had been trimmed down to 10 feet Kyle stopped cutting. Or rather the chainsaw stopped, displaying a large plume of blue smoke to express its determination not to start again. Rather than get the other bigger chainsaw (on a ranch you need to have more than one chainsaw operational at only one time) my son stepped back from the tree saying, "Let's wait 'til dad gets home and let him finish."
Not sure why he didn't want to finish a task he really seemed to be enjoying. It was well before noon and we had no other pressing chores to do, but Kyle insisted. So I agreed. Evening came, dad came home and he and the boy set about starting the bigger chainsaw and completing the task started earlier in the day. I watched. The boy just stood there when dad again offered him to finish the job. No, you do it was his comment to his dad's urging.
The tree fell with a solid thunk a safe distance from the front porch. Counted the tree's rings with son and husband wondering what the future will find that replaces these old cedars?
n Marie Johnson is a Carson Valley rancher.
