Not surprisingly, the surprising pre-Halloween snow storm was more than just a freakish visitor; it was also a destructive house guest. Trees still in leaf hold more icy snow than do bare branches. I don’t really know anything about trees (along with all the other things I don’t know anything about), but I suspect that there may have been metabolic seasonal changes—full commitment to winter’s hibernation—that had been initiated but not yet completed within the trees as well. With sap still running, even if more sluggishly than in summer, the poor things could more easily be frozen and become brittle.

As a result, the yard around Big Maple looked like a tree war zone, with severed limbs scattered throughout. Little Maple was decidedly droopy, too.

But the biggest loser was our largest Bradford pear. I’ve shown it to you in spring glory

and autumn brilliance

Now, sadly, I must reveal its demise. 

About five-sixths of the crown came down. All the limbs on the ground came from it, not the other trees. Notice that it had not even fully turned color yet: some entire sections were still green. Fortunately, a neighbor—whose power tools I will never again curse—had a chain saw, which made far easier work of getting limbs off the driveway and street than would have been possible with my hand saw. (Though I did see a hawk.)

Just five minutes after I got back inside, before the heating pad that Mrs. P fetched to wrap around my frozen fingers had time to warm, the other shoe dropped, and we lost power. Ah, well.

Later, we built a fire and decided to warm some leftovers for dinner pioneer-style.

Power came back on last night, but we were already asleep—near the fire. 

This morning dawned clear and bright, and Little Maple looks sprightly and colorful again, though he’s a bit puzzled by the white stuff on the ground.

But the pristine morning also clearly reveals two of Big Maple’s wounds.

Words and pictures © 2011 AtHome Pilgrim.

All Rights Reserved.