Timber felling continues. Bittersweet benchmark after bittersweet benchmark; five ash trees succumbing to the chainsaw. This afternoon we honor a fallen giant, the imposing 3-stem behemoth that stood just northeast of Rosslyn’s icehouse.
It’s a poignant passing and sentimental benchmark when towering trees that helped define Rosslyn’s environs over the years must be culled. (Source: Lumberjacking)
I’d like to emphasize our respect for, and gratitude to, Aaron for managing this delicate tree work with surgical precision. Intelligence. Patience. Endurance. And impeccable execution. No bodies and no buildings damaged. That’s a huge relief. Aaron’s conscientious tree work was assisted by Tony and documented by Pam. Bravo, team!
Our decision to remove unhealthy ash trees near the outbuildings aligns with evolving insurance industry responses to climate-related risks. Practical. But poignant. Compelled by a need for increased vigilance and proactive maintenance to safeguard Rosslyn’s historic heritage amid changing environmental challenges, it’s nevertheless emotionally wrenching. And aesthetically altering.
With careful consideration for repurposing the wood (the straightest ash is earmarked for carpentry while the remaining timber will become firewood, landscaping mulch, and compost) Aaron and Tony have been endeavoring to maximize the value of their tree work while minimizing risk and damage.
Although I’ve acknowledged the emotional aspect of losing significant trees on our property, I haven’t represented the inevitable mental and emotional strain on Aaron as he managed this project from his lofty perch. Although he’s a man of few words, he did concede that this now fallen giant “was a little more than I thought it would be.” The following is excerpted from my exchange with Aaron in response to my Sunday post, “Aerial Arborist Haiku”.
Aaron: I had to Google haiku. It looks like a hard way to write poetry.
Me: Glad you looked it up. It’s certainly no harder than climbing 100+ feet in the air with a roaring chainsaw to whittle down a massive tree! That, my friend, is another form of poetry altogether… truly impressive.
Nowhere near as hard! I love climbing trees. In fact, I really enjoyed climbing in our old apple trees with a small pruning chainsaw to keep them squared away in the late winter early spring. But monkeying around in the top of that ash… That’s something else all together! I feel a tingling in my bones just thinking about it.
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