Britt's Fall Tree
By Summer Bacon
We visited my brother, Britt, and his family when we went to California last month to do an Open Session. As always, he greeted us with great snacks and a glass of champagne. Britt's a wonderful cook. Since he doesn't have a chef's degree, I can't technically call him "Chef Britt," but his meals are certainly on a par with some of the best meals I've ever had in restaurants, including Wolfgang Puck's. Britt makes all of his sauces, pastas, breads, and more from scratch using all organic foods. Staying at his house is like eating at a five star restaurant, breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Since I visit Britt frequently, we have established a sort of routine together. It's not something that we mention, but we just do it naturally. Once everything is on the stove or in the oven for the evening meal, he grabs a glass of red wine, his pack of cigarettes and a magazine and heads for his chair outside in the backyard. I give him about five minutes to relax and read, and then I grab my champagne and join him. It's our one-on-one time together, and all family members on both sides seem to respect that, at least for awhile.
Last month as we sat and talked, I sensed that something was different about his yard, but couldn't put my finger on it. He has an expansive backyard with a swimming pool in it. His home is in one of the nicer older neighborhoods with well-established trees, and big grassy yards for the kids. I glanced around as he talked about the new landscaping project he and his wife were about to embark upon. It would involve replacing the old patio covering, possibly building a recording studio/guest house in the back of the property, planting a vegetable garden and more. I looked around as he talked, and I suddenly noticed a huge, beautiful bench on the west side of the patio. It was carved from a single tree trunk--a very large tree trunk.
"Oh! You bought a new bench!" I observed in delight.
"Nope, babe ..." Britt said, "Haven't you noticed?" He gestured to the grassy area right in front of us where a one hundred foot tall ash tree once stood. The tree was gone, and the only evidence of its existence was a large hump where the remaining stump had been covered with dirt.
"Ohmygosh, Britt! You really should be more specific when you ask the gardeners to prune your trees!" I quipped lightheartedly, as my stomach sank at the sight.
Britt grinned. "Yeah," he said. I could tell that he was still a bit sad.
"Why did you have it cut down? Did it die?" I asked.
He proceeded to explain that the tree had turned male and was dropping thousands of seed pods everyday, all year round. The seeds had collected on their rooftop, in their swimming pool, and were a never ending source of annoyance. He also said that the tree was so close to the house that as it aged it was becoming a hazard to his home and family. The tree was large enough to destroy his home if a strong Santa Ana wind ever came and blew it down. The gardener recommended cutting the tree down.
He showed me a huge pile of firewood that had been made from the tree, and three gigantic slabs of wood that were cut from the trunk and would soon be made into tabletops. The cut wood smelled good, but my heart filled with sadness as I remembered many evenings of sitting on the swing that had once hung from that beautiful tree. The San Fernando Valley sky was bluer than I remembered it was when I was a child living there, and I would often sit in Britt's swing and gaze at the sky, exhausted from my Open Session, and listen to the chirping birds and the rustling leaves. I remembered those seed pods too, and would stick my hand out to try and catch them as they twirled their way to the ground.
Now the tree was gone, and there was only the sting of sweet memories. But, I had to admit, the bench was beautiful, and I couldn't wait to see the finished tables.
Each afternoon that I stayed at Britt's house a squirrel would bound across the yard, stop at the edge of the lawn and gaze at the hump where the tree once stood. I swear I saw it raise its fist and heard it curse. I wondered whether it was missing its home, or perhaps even its family, due to the tree cutting.
I don't blame Britt or his wife for cutting down the tree, although I'm not sure it's what I would have done. But, I don't have to live there day after day with thousands of twirling seed pods covering my house and yard. Britt and his wife are very good people, and extremely considerate of Mother Earth. They recycle and compost, and use natural cleansers. They drive a hybrid car, and do more than their share in terms of caring for the earth. I, on the contrary, use Cascade Complete dishwasher soap, and have to think twice before I consider cluttering my garage by tossing one more aluminum can or empty champagne bottle into the recycling bin. So I am certainly not one to judge them.
A couple of weeks after we left Britt's house, Britt sent me a link to a youtube video he had created. It's a very well made video about cutting down the ash tree. I encourage you to watch it. Click here to go directly to the video: FALL TREE. Listen to the words to the music as the video plays. Then come back and read the rest of my story.
It's interesting that Britt cut the tree down during the period of time that my friend, landscaper Jim Law, was diligently fighting the city of Sedona, trying desperately to save some of the mighty oaks and sycamores that line the creek at the Tlaquepaque bridge from the fate of being cut down by the Arizona Department of Transportation as they widen Hwy 179. Dr. Peebles told Jim that he would save twenty of the trees, and he did just that.
I was talking to Bev about Britt's video. We were both feeling a bit sad about the tree. But then Bev piped up and suggested that perhaps it was the tree's time to go. The tree, she noted, had a choice too. We pondered the fact that the tree might have gotten bored standing there for so long, and wanted to reincarnate as something else. Perhaps it didn't like being male and producing all of those seed pods all day long. Perhaps it didn't like Britt's cigarette smoke! Perhaps it wanted to make way for a younger, healthier tree to have a new life. Perhaps, for Britt and his wife, after twenty years of marriage, it was simply time for a new beginning, and less aggravation from the endlessly falling seed pods.
When Dr. Peebles says, "Everything is in right order," he never adds the word "BUT." He really means that "everything is in right order." No exceptions. "There are no mistakes, there is only growth," he adamantly repeats to us again and again.
So, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust. The tree will find a new life as a bench, some firewood, and three tabletops. Perhaps the tree just wanted to be spread around a bit, and be a little closer to Britt's friends during his Friday night gatherings, to hear the conversation and listen to the music. Maybe the tree just wanted to get to know a little bit more about Britt's cooking, and wanted to complement the wonderfully presented gourmet platings by becoming Britt's tables.
Perhaps the tree wanted to give back to the family that grew up with him (now that the tree is male) and bring warmth to Britt's house by providing a lovely fire for Britt and his wife to snuggle by as they sip cocoa and reminisce about their children and their life together.
Britt is a truly wonderful human being, and I wish you could all meet him. I love him with all my heart. He has made me laugh when I wanted to die, and made me persevere when I wanted to give up hope.