Keepers of the Giants

Now that it's thoroughly, awfully, evenly gray here in Ohio, I need to go back to a golden fall day in Cambridge, and some photos I squirreled away for just such a weepy day.

In a place that's been settled for as long as Cambridge has (try 1631) there are some pretty darned impressive trees. Trees that have been there much longer than the houses have, and the houses have been there a long time.  Here's a glorious American elm, still hanging on to vibrant life. Right next door to the beech I'm about to feature, in fact.

Hodge thinks there should be some kind of historic treasure designation for many of Cambridge's arboreal giants. I agree. She took me to the spot on Brattle Street where a homeowner had cut down the perfectly healthy twin of a massive beech still standing in the yard. I couldn't comprehend what would move someone to do that to such a gigantic tree. But then again I am not living under such a gigantic tree. Lack of sunlight in summer? Branches crashing onto the roof? I suppose there was a reason, but I couldn't bring myself to photograph the enormous disc of healthy white wood, flush to the ground, which is all that remains of what was once a glorious beech.

As medicine, we visited a beech that is appreciated, that comes as part and parcel with the house and is equal stature.

Its branches gracefully arch over the lawn, sensibly covered with broad-leaved groundcover since grasses don't much like growing under beeches. In some places the branches scrape the ground and rise up again.

Hodge would be the best Keeper of the Trees I can imagine. I think Cambridge should create an office for her. She could go around designating the Ones Who Must Not Be Cut.

the same mighty monarch, at a distance.

I don't think I was imagining the faces in its nearly pristine bark.  A bit scary, upon closer inspection. We found only one small set of initials carved into it--something worth remarking upon in an urban area, where beeches are virtually all horribly scarred by those seeking a piece of posterity in this act of vandalism.

Whaddya think you're doin' with those apples? 

At this, Hodge and I launched into the scene from The Wizard of Oz where Ray Bolger says, "Come on, Dorothy. We wouldn't want to eat THOSE apples anyway. They're full of little green WORMS"

and the apple trees start winding up, lifting kneelike roots and throwing apples at Ray and Judy as they run down the Yellow Brick Road.

Speaking of Oz, the home that accompanies this magnificent tree fits it perfectly.

Thank you to the homeowners who maintain these islands of beauty and serenity, these sanctuaries for giant trees. You are the Keepers of the Giants.