Tree stumps and fallen branches everywhere I go, everywhere I look.

I am noticing these images in my walks these days, and wonder what it means to me, at this time in my life. I am particularly struck by the clear cut, tidy, intentional severances of tree trunks and branches, much more than I am by those  felled in messy ways by wind, or rot, or the weight of a squirrel jumping across. It's the trees that have felt the chain saw buzzing through their limbs with a powerful , clear cut intent that catch my eye.

A few days ago as I was sitting in my living room with my morning coffee, city trucks came zooming down my street with obvious purpose.  They knew exactly where they were headed and why.  I imagined that  clipped to the dash there was a form, a printed direction in sans serif font size 10, with our street name typed.  Had someone been here recently eyeing up the treeline?  Had a neighbour called in their concern about the pressing need to trim trees?  Out came the equipment.  Not even a moment really, to ponder the beauty of my neighbours birch tree with her shaggy hairdo and unkempt appearance. Things needed to be tidied up. It didn't take long.  Branches fell and were tossed in the back of the truck.  And the birch looked oh so nice.

I realize that the maple on my front lawn was next.    She has a lovely rounded upper body of bare branches in winter. She dresses up proudly in a gown of thick, droopy leaves in the summer.  I keep a close eye on her from my morning coffee perch in the living room in winter, and from the front porch in the summer.  She comforts me on summer nights when windows are kept open and I can hear her body swaying in the dark.   But I too, had thought, well, it might be time to trim her up a bit as long as a little trimming would not change the delight of her round figure.   The men did their job well and with no thought of her round beauty or noticing the way she invites you into her branches, how she makes you want to climb up and swing from branch to branch like a monkey, or maybe just sit dangling your legs from the strength of her lower limbs. I love her for all of this.

Done. Cleaned up, well severed, according to instructions.  The street is tidy and, well, the wisdom of this city tells us we should be proud to live here in such an orderly neighbourhood where wildness must not interfere with need to keep things trim and tidy.  But somewhere deep inside, we all know better, don't we?