The Trees, Part 1

I was informed aspens don't do well here, they need more altitude.  I planted four anyway. They did very well. The one nearest the house grew absolutely huge, sent its roots everywhere, all the way into the neighbor's yard--to the west--which troubled me. I like to be a good neighbor. I also thought the roots might break my porch, upend my house, so I cut the tree down.

The tree experts killed my other three aspens and three of my Rose Hill ash trees, an accident they neglected to tell me about until I questioned them on it. Their dormant oil machine malfunctioned, spraying oil all over my front yard and walk in addition to the trees. The walkway I could clean up, but the heavy coating of oil choked the life out of the trees. They had to be cut down. No more quaking leaves, that delightful business aspens carry out. No more red autumn leaves on my ash trees.

I replaced the ash, but not the aspens. And wouldn't you know it? The tree experts said they couldn't find Rose Hill ash (I wonder how hard they looked), so I now have those three plain ash trees. I try to love them, with their yellow fall color, but they are not quite mine, even though it has been more than ten years. 

The one Rose Hill ash remaining in the front yard will have to come down before long. I've had its limbs cut back more than a few times, because they threaten my roof or hang down over the walkway. Still it insists on growing. And it's just too big. It impedes the balance and growth of the nearby dawn redwood. That struggle has been going on for the twenty-two years of their existence in my yard, the ash being the pushier of the two trees.