~ on hollow trees and hollow feelings ~

When we started our renovations a year ago one of the hardest things was cutting down a couple of old conifers on the boundary so we could extend.  I didn't like them but cutting trees down goes against the grain.

I was able to reassure myself that we were protecting the majority of our beautiful trees and that our little green oasis would still be there, even with the bigger house.  

 

The main feature of our back garden has always been the ancient, enormous pear tree.  

I loved it unreservedly.  It had a ladder and a small cubby area.  It provided beautiful blossom and shade to read and play.  It had an old tyre swing that we all loved.  It also produced upwards of a thousand pears a year - all inedible unless cooked and all of which the Doc had to pick up and cart to the compost (or tip).  He didn't always share the pear tree love.  The wombles often picked pears up for pocket money and made enough to keep them in icy-poles for the summer. 

I think it was one of the factors that swayed our decision to buy the house (a decision that took all of 5 minutes - I have long lamented my ability to choose curtains, shoes, what to have for dinner... but show me a house I love and I'm signing before I've hit the back wall).

Last week the rain stopped for long enough for us to get into the garden again.  A bit of weeding, some mowing and a chance to look around.  We found, to our horror, a huge crack along one of the branches of the pear tree and a hollow rotting centre.  The tree doctor confirmed our worse fears and today he came with his chainsaw and razed it to the ground.

 

There wasn't even any time to get used to the idea.  There yesterday, gone today.   

I feel like I've committed a {carbon} crime and I've shed a few tears.  

I feel all hollow inside too.

 

(On the upside we have quite a load of firewood for next year and lots of potential).

What's your favourite part of the garden?

♥