Cherry, cherry

My wife and I have always loved hiking, and as the weather gets warmer and more spring-like we look forward to getting back into the woods and on the trail. In the evenings after dinner a walk around the neighborhood tides us over till we can get into the woods.

Our neighborhood is fairly new, with most of the houses 10 years old or less. The neighborhood is still growing, so there are still a number of empty lots. Recently a few of those lots must have been sold and a builder contracted, as the lots are staked and have string stretched out over the footprint of where the house will go. One such lot is a prime location in a quiet part of the neighborhood, with lots of old oak and cherry trees.

The thing of it is, when we walked past that lot a week ago we saw that two gorgeous cherry trees were smack in the middle of the string outline of where the foundation for the house is going to go. One was a smaller tree, maybe a foot-and-a-half in diameter, but the other was a monster, easily two-and-a-half feet thick, and incredibly tall. The main trunk was just about straight as an arrow for the first 25 or 30 feet before branching out. I mentioned to my wife what a lucky bonus for someone. I naturally assumed that the owner would want that wood and, if not, the builder would be savvy enough to realize the value of the lumber standing in those two magnificent trees and would get someone with a Wood-Mizer out there and mill himself a small fortune.

Apparently not.

It was a lovely evening and we did our stroll around the neighborhood just a little while ago, and when we went past that lot we saw that they’ve started work clearing it and getting it ready for the foundation. Those two cherry trees were down – piled up off to the side of the lot in pieces, suitable now for not much more than firewood if anyone cares to split the dozens of short sections they chainsawed and just stacked up.

I wanted to cry. In fact, I still may if I don’t quit thinking about it.

Till next time,

A.J.