Nothing's as lovely as a tree
Sometime Thursday when I wasn’t paying attention, the big tree in the lot at Spring and West Market streets was cut down.
Of course, I had been expecting it, ever since the Arbor House was demolished two months ago to make way for condominiums. But the house was razed and the tree remained, and a voice inside me whispered maybe it would be spared. Maybe.
The Arbor House, as it was known for several decades, was built in 1875, possibly as a carriage house for Blandwood Mansion. In recent years it had been a gift shop.
I used to look at the tree while I was at the YMCA. From the elliptical machines on the second floor of the Y, I had a good view of the upper branches.
I’m ashamed to say I don’t know what kind of tree it was. But on hot days in the summer, its shade looked inviting. In winter, the vines covering its trunk teemed with life. Blue jays, cardinals and sparrows flitted among the leaves; squirrels chased each other around the trunk; crows courted each other from atop the high branches.
On Friday, all that remained were some limbs and roots being bulldozed into the dirt.
An old mansion and more trees were cleared years ago to make room for the YMCA where I work out. That pains me, too, even though I never saw that house or the birds and wildlife that lived there. Maybe we can’t miss what we don’t know.
I fear that someday we won’t miss the trees.
The hole in my heart when I saw the tree gone was almost as big as the crater left behind.
Now condominiums that use the word arbor in their name – meaning trees, a shaded area – will take shape on a barren, dusty lot.