Trees

“I think I shall never see, A poem as lovely as a tree” Those are the first lines of a poem written by Joyce Kilmer and committed to memory by generations of school children. It is a favorite poem for many people, include my older sister Janet.

It is easy to take trees for granted, especially in a place like Wisconsin. The U.S. Department of agriculture estimates there are 2.4 billion trees on Wisconsin’s forest lands that are at least five inches in diameter at chest height.

There are many more saplings and suckers that fall below that standard. The U.S. Forest Services estimates there are 11.5 billion trees in the state that are at least one inch in diameter at chest height.

Years ago, I spent a highly educational afternoon at a Wisconsin Woodlands Owners Association workshop. Experts talked about silviculture and management practices. They said trees are among the most successful of all crops able to grow especially in areas that would be inhospitable to other types of agriculture.

When it comes to trees, it is important to take the long view. While a typical farmer may harvest multiple crops of hay in a good year, management for timber harvests might measure in the decades, today’s saplings being harvested by the children or grandchildren of those who planted them.

This week I had three ash trees taken down from my property. As trees go, they were far from prime specimens of their species. Years before my home was built, the lot where my home is located was crowded with trees of about the same species and age competing for sunlight. This caused the trees to grow up tall and skinny reaching their branches up 80 feet or more into the air but narrow at the trunk.

When we moved into our home we had several trees taken down to make more usable space in our yard. This was not too difficult a decision to make. We had only lived there a short time and trees were trees and were in our way.

In the more than decade and a half of living in our home, my relationship with the trees in my yard has changed. I watch the progression of the seasons, measuring spring by the first greening of their limbs with leaves. I watch as the colors change from the fresh new greens in spring through the glossy and deep greens of summer watching them lose their luster and fade as summer wanes, only to explode in vibrant colors come fall before littering my yard with that year’s harvest of fallen leaves, reminiscent of the hats and mittens left on the playground when children go inside after recesss.

I have watched in recent years as the trees took longer to turn green in spring and would be quicker to drop their leave in fall. After storms, I would spend more time picking up broken branches. In the past year, I have grown increasingly worried in windy weather about them coming down. Yet, they remained in wind and rain and ice and snow.

We made the decision to take the trees down before they came down on their own and caused damage to our, or our neighbor’s properties. We got on the schedule of a tree service and on Monday it was our turn. Within a day the trees were down as if they had never been there.

Every dairy farmer I have known can name a favorite cow, an animal that tiptoed the line between being solely a source of income and being a pet. The relationship between people who live in town and their trees is similar.

In a practical sense there are literally billions of other trees and cutting down one does little to impact the total. However, taken in the space of a typical city lot, the loss of a few trees can make a major difference. The shadows falling on the wall in the morning sunshine are different now. It will take some getting used, as will the view from my back deck without the vine-covered trunks rising into the air.

Come spring, I plan to plant some new trees along the border between mine and my neighbor’s yard. Given the lifespan of trees compared to my own and the amount of gray in my hair and beard, I wonder at whose children will rest in their shade and will play in the dappled autumn sunlight jumping and laughing in leaf piles.

“Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.”

Brian Wilson is News Editor at The Star News. Contact Brian at BrianWilson@centralwinews.com.