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Logging in the infamous garden
At one corner of my garden, and it's most dominant feature, was a large tree. I never knew exactlywhat kind of tree it was. For a while I thought it might be a native to this very spot, because it seemed to resemble the aspen or beech that grow in the canyons of the nearby San Gabriel Range. My neighbor hated that tree. When I first moved in, she told me "that's a weed tree. You ought to cut it down." So I did, but I didn't take out the stump and it grew back, with multiple trunks where there had been only one. I came to like the tree. Once a few years ago, when the Garden Police had been after me, I saw her out watering one morning and went out to talk to her. "Mrs. Elmo," I said, "what can I do to make my garden more acceptable?" "You can cut it down! Cut it all down. Especially that tree. That's not even a tree...it's five trees!" She was furious at that. It's the last time I spoke to her.
The tree was too close to the sidewalk and lately it has been tearing it up. I've been worried about it. No one said anything to me...no midnight knock on the door, no visits from the GB. But I began to think I was making an unreasonable impact on the neighborhood and I should take out the tree. Young James has a friend down the block, RJ, the sweetest little boy, confined to a wheel chair. I thought that the screwed up sidewalk would be a particular nuisance to him, not to mention the various old folks out for their occasional walks. I though I'd better take it down. I felt good about the decision. I would miss the tree, but I thought I would be doing the right thing for the neighborhood. Even though I personally prefer big trees and broken-up sidewalks, that is clearly not the consensus of the 'hood. I talked to a guy named Pete who said he'd take the tree down. He came on Saturday with his cousin and his young son. They took down the tree. Pete had the knowledge and the equipment, and it was something to watch him work. I told him anything in the garden would grow back, but to try and avoid my living bamboo arch if possible. He did, but a falling branch nipped off half of my corner yucca.
Soon the street filled with fallen limbs and leafy branches. Neighbors came out to watch. Some of the kids from down the block came over. They wanted to help me stack the wood. It was cool. Gregory would stack a few pieces on RJ's wheelchair; RJ wheeled over to the side of the house, and another kid unloaded them. Not the most efficient system, but everyone got to play. Excellent. They asked me if I was trimming the tree, or taking the whole thing down. I told them I was taking it down because it was pushing up the sidewalk. 
"But we like to play on that sidewalk," they said. A great ramp for wheelchairs, scooters and bikes.
By 4:30, all that was left was the stump. The wood was stacked where it would dry for use in the fireplace next winter. Leaves and branches were packed in Pete's trailer, ready to haul off. Sawdust was swept and added to the compost pile. Pete will have to come back later with a rented machine to get the stump out. 
Amani and James were gone for the weekend and came back last night. This morning (Monday), while Sandy took James to school, I made a cool decorative border with some of the chunks that are really too big to burn in the fireplace. I was anxious to show off my handiwork, so when Sandy and Amani (just turned four) got back, I wanted them to see what I had done. "She just saw the tree was gone," Sandy told me. She wasn't happy." I took her around to the side, past the stacked wood. She was mad. "You cut down my favorite tree. It's your fault. You are bad." Even Camille, who said if it were up to her she would pave the whole lot and not worry about, expressed sadness at the loss of the tree. You know what they say: Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. The garden has suffered a cataclysm, but I am confident that it will emerge with new character, even though it is missing a strong element. The yucca will grow a new branch. The native grass and Mexican sage that was growing at the base of the tree has been transported and will flourish. Perhaps a small clump of bamboo will grow where the tree was. But maybe I shouldn't have cut it.
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