My favorite tree - an ancient shagbark hickory that had been through the wars and loomed over the dirt road going up the hill - fell over in the Fall. It was a monster and it completely blocked the road, with the corpse close to my height. Bob brought his tractor over to try to move it. Randal added my tractor's power too. But we needed to get a friend of Bob's with a serious chain saw to cut it up before dragging it to the side of the road. I was reminded of Sartre's remark that there is no such thing as an obstacle 'as such'. A fallen tree, he said, was only an obstacle if you wanted to get past it This was an obstacle. I wish I could get it sawn up into huge planks. I was reminded of my slow burning book project on Trees, for which I have so many notes. I had not thought much about their death as individuals. There is so much emphasis now on their sociality, their secret communications. But this tree was a singular majestic being. As its name suggests it had a remarkably rugged bark. Interestingly before I had the road up the hill cut through the woods, this tree was lost among all the other trees. After the road, it gained a stature and prominence it had never had before. It was like a guardian spirit.
Photos to follow.
