There was a formerly magnificent oak tree in the back yard that was dying for as long as I’ve had the house. Its leaves always looked a little battered and brittle and its canopy considerably thinner than its immediate neighbors. Four years ago one of its main limbs plunged into the yard while I was eating dinner on a summer Saturday night. Anyone under it would have had an awfully bad day.

That was worrisome, but the rest of the tree looked to be in decent enough shape and without any more obviously dead branches. This spring’s drought, it seems, was more than the old girl could take. It stood there showing shades of nothing but brown since sometime in early June. Once this particular tree came down, it was obvious that sometime in the last decade it was lightning struck. The scorch marks around the top of the trunk were plain – and it had a six-inch hollow from nearly root to crown. It was going to come down sooner rather than later whether it was planned or not. 

A dead tree in the woods isn’t necessarily cause for worry in and of itself. This one, though, had a bit of an awkward lean to it. In that condition, I expect it could easily have toppled directly on seven or eight segments of split rail fence that I didn’t especially want to replace. It also overhung one of Jorah’s favorite spots in the yard. I like the idea of replacing him even less than the thought of replacing a big section of fencing. 

That’s all a lot of lead up to say that I hired an arborist to deal with what was well beyond my own scope and abilities as a homeowner. Over the course of a day, his team took down the dead oak as well as a living one that hung precariously over the garage. They also cleared out several smaller trees that all overhung my bedroom. Due to their problematic locations, nearly every cut was tied off and hoisted by crane – some to be disposed of naturally in the woods and some to be hauled off site.

Each lift weighed in somewhere around 3000 pounds according to the crane operator. Having a ton and half of dead weight flying over the house all afternoon was, in a word, unsettling. It absolutely unlocked a brand new variety of homeowner fear. I hate the idea of taking down perfectly healthy trees, but after seeing how big these oaks are once they were on the ground, the thought of any of them landing on the house is nightmare fuel. 

If you’re envisioning a small project, I’m not describing it properly. In fact, it’s likely only the first third of what we’ll end up doing over the next two or three years to beat back the trees that have encroached on the house since the building site was cleared 23 years ago. This year we took on the worst offenders – those trees or parts thereof that were deemed most likely to fall directly on my head.

It’s not the home improvement project I had planned to take on or budgeted for this year, but once you’ve committed to having a crane set up in the front yard, it feels like you should make the most of it being there. At least I know again this year why I won’t be going anywhere that even hints of a vacation. Hopefully the tree guy at least goes somewhere fun.