For several months in 2000, we had been trying
to find someone who would come in and cut down the one cherry tree that was
giving us so much grief (and way too many useless and sticky cherries). We
had hoped that an Artisan, who would use the cherry wood for some good
purpose, would want to come and harvest it, but no one could be found.
Finally in mid-January, 2001, we contacted an arbourist to come in and take
it down. |
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The Arbourist stopped by one late afternoon that January, poked and
tapped, hummed and tutted and came to us with his findings. “Your
call was very timely.” he said. “That one’s just starting to rot,
about a foot up, but the other one is almost in dangerous shape.”
The Other One? “I’m sorry but I think you’d be wise to get rid of
them both, before they do you some damage. I can get them down
without getting too near the gazebo,
BUT YOU'LL HAVE
TO LIFT ALL THAT TRACK” |
You know that feeling you get
when you’re between a rock and a hard place? The pit of your stomach
hurts. That’s how I felt. He would be back in about a week. The
greater part of my railway would have to be gone.
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