Buy a summer home with woodlands, they said. It will be whimsical, they said.
By ‘they’, I am of course referring to the estate agents, who must’ve thought they’d gotten a real sucker in the office. We DID look through the woodlands out the back, and they seemed to be quite nice. Bit random, but it’s not like we really had to do anything except have a picnic in there occasionally.
Oh no. Oh no indeed. Not only is there SO much maintenance- to an area where we don’t even live for most of the year, mind you- but it’s also a huge pain to clear, and extremely expensive. So if anyone ever needs the numbers to some well-rated tree removal people in Oakleigh, I’d be happy to hook you up, because we’ve been doing quite a lot of business recently. Oh, we’ve become quite close, all the professional outdoorsy people who keep these woodlands from taking over our summer home. Ideally I want to sell it off, but no one wants to take it because they all make smarter decisions about real estate than we do.
To be fair, it’s a really nice home. We didn’t really want the land, but we didn’t think it would be this much work, or so much money to maintain.
Tried cutting down a few of the trees myself. Got about one-and-a-half ways through the first ones and thought I’d give up on THAT little plan. Besides, it was exhausting enough just doing the one, and I’m not a professional arborist so I don’t know how to get rid of them permanently. The way I chop them down, it leaves a bunch of stumps all around the place that’ll probably just grow back in enough time.
So that’s us, with a beautiful summer home and several acres of horrible woodlands that would require a legion of Melbourne’s best tree lopping people before it’s useful for anything. Hooray for land ownership.
Oh, so when Paris writes a puffy short y anthology about insects having their lives ruined by pest control it’s ‘stark’ and ‘brave’ but I write about trees getting cut down, from the perspective of the trees, and it’s ‘macabre’.
I’ll admit that I was the only one saying those things about Paris’ stories. Everyone else thought their thousands of words spent on the daily life of one ant were sort of dull. But here I thought we were kindred creative spirits.
You all don’t understand: it’s not SUPPOSED to be an attack on the tree removal services of Oakleigh, not at all. If you read between the lines of the tree’s final thoughts as it’s being cut down, its roots being ripped upwards from the ground, its view of the world taking a sudden and traumatic tumble before its life is extinguished forever, you’ll see that they also believe that it is their time.
A dead tree is doomed to sit in one place forever, looking down upon a world full of life with jealousy in its…eyes. Sap? Yep. And trees give us life, so the thought of one wrecking a flowerbed with its roots, or crashing down upon a shed…well, the trees obviously want no part in it. It was their time to be lopped, and through their long lives, they have gained wisdom enough to truly comprehend it. Better than humans, I might add. If all goes well, they’ll be turned into a wonderful family table to be cherished for generations. Either that or paper towel.
Oh, but my stories are ‘off-putting’ and ‘are going to give me nightmares’. Well, I’m so sorry for putting you off your food with a stark look at Armadale’s tree removal industry. It’s not like there was any food left after you’d finished reading; Sheila took good care of that. Perhaps you’ll think from a tree’s perspective next time. Trees can teach us many things about the fragility of life.