Mourning the Tree

One of the main reasons I wanted to buy our current house was because of the yard. It is big for a city lot, park-like and it had lots of large trees that made it shady and comfortable even in St. Louis summers. I planted shade-loving gardens beneath the trees and loved that the kids could play in the sand box and kiddie pool most of the day without fear of sunburn. About 2 years after we moved in 2 trees in our neighbor's yard died. I shuffled the shade-loving plants to other parts of the yard and enjoyed replanting a couple of beds with a variety of "full-sun" perennials.

The following summer a storm blew our cedar tree down (onto our roof.) We noted that Daniel's room felt warmer in the summer afternoons and I planted more "full-sun" perennials.

The following year a huge elm in our neighbor's front yard died. The city cut it down and now our living room and front porch get blasted with hot afternoon sun.

Then the heartbreaker. The HUGE black oak at the back corner of our yard started to show signs of disease. I prayed in earnest for this tree. I knew it's absence would completely transform our yard. And this spring it became clear that the tree wasn't winning the battle with the disease.


After 5 DAYS of cutting by a ridiculously inefficient tree care company the oak is gone. A man is coming tomorrow to grind out the stump. When the crew dropped the trunk into the yard it shook the ground. Neighbors came out of their houses to see what was going on.


Tonight our yard looks weary. A heavy coat of sawdust has choked out the grass. My last shade-loving garden is parched. And I'm just sad. I hate the new view of power lines and neighbors' fences and roofs. Our yard is no longer park-like and cool. Steve has already mentally moved on to tilling the yard and planting new things. I am usually a person with vision for what a space or a garden could be. But I'm not there yet. I'm still mourning the backyard I loved.