Gifts of Grande Dame Oak
I have written elsewhere about the regal Grande Dame Oak Tree that towers over our home. Her beauty, serenity and patience as she stands rooted in place. Her sense of humor as she teases us, using our roof for seasonal target practice, honing her acorn tossing skills. But I’ve only just realized that she is also a firm believer in recycling. She sets an example for us of what sustainable living looks like.
This Grande Dame Oak has one main, gargantuan trunk, from which at least four leaders emerge, beginning at a height of about twenty feet. Each leader, in turn, divides into multiple branches, which appear from the ground as slender, graceful limbs. They grow rapidly, these slender arms, and Matt, our arborist, tells us each year that perhaps we should think about cutting the tree down. It dwarfs our roofline, hangs above us, and creates a hazard.
Branches, he says, tend to break over time. Especially in the face of the Northeasters we experience in New England and the weight of winter snow. He doesn’t really want us to cut down our tree—he just has to say that to cover the possibility of damage. But he does insist, with increasing determination each year, that we should do some pruning. Take down the most pendulous branches, he says, the ones most likely to land on the roof of the house.
Every couple of years we realize that we’re living in the shadow of something that might fall on our heads, and it would be imprudent to take no action. So, this year we do. We watch as the tree guys rise in their hydraulic buckets, reaching up to prune the slender saplings. When the bucket has reached its height limit, the guys take to the trees, hanging from ropes, cutting and lowering manageable lengths of branch to the ground.
The tree guys remember the first year, when I asked them to cut the leaders into two-foot rounds and add them to my woodpile for splitting. Now they do it without being asked, a gracious favor from young men who engage every day in dangerous work high above us. I envy the love they feel for their work, their knowledge of trees, their expert handling of chain saws and the danger posed by limbs cut at a wrong angle.
Once the tree guys have finished their work, I examine the addition to my woodpile. There’s nothing skimpy about what they’ve cut from my tree. A chest-high pile twenty-feet long, some of the rounds measuring three-feet in diameter.
This is the gift our Grande Dame Oak gives every couple of years, enough to keep the fireplace supplied for much of winter. The warmth of the wood is only one element of this manifold gift. Another is the lesson in sustainability. From its own body, this tree provides us with a continuous supply of fuel. All we have to do is leave it alone to grow and flourish.
There is a third gift, the one I most prize. It is the opportunity to use my maul to split the rounds into firewood. Turns out that splitting green oak is easier than splitting dry wood. And it has the added advantage of creating more surface area, which promotes drying. There are few activities more satisfying than splitting firewood. It’s meditative. Repetitive. Active. And it offers immediate gratification.
We’ve just cut a cord of wood from the oak. I’ve started splitting my firewood. It will be ready for burning next winter. Thank you, Grande Dame Oak, for your gifts.