He isn’t the most majestic arboreal specimen in Lakewood – but he must be among the most mighty.
When I bought the property at 2257 Emily in 1997, the front yard was tree-less. A few years later, I planted a Bradford pear tree – “Brad” – near the middle of the yard. Brad grew, and he flourished, and he provided shade. He was wonderful.
He was 30 feet tall and had just been professionally pruned when, in the middle of the night on Oct. 30, 2012, Superstorm Sandy barreled into town and huffed and puffed and split Brad like a banana. Top to bottom. Right. Down. The Middle.
That morning I peered out the kitchenette window only to see half of a vertical Brad still standing. It was so strange; so saddening. I cleared away what I could of my fallen friend and called the tree guys. A few days later, they cut down the rest of Brad, dug out his roots and hauled him away. RIP Brad.
I debated my options. In September 2013, a local nursery delivered and planted a healthy King Crimson Maple smack-dab in the middle of the yard. Not far from where Brad had been parked. At 6 feet tall, “The King” was a little beauty.
Not long after I started lovin’ on The King – with autumn setting in – I noticed, of all things, this hearty-looking growth sprouting, a couple feet the other side from where Brad had rooted. I tried to pull it out, but it wouldn’t budge. I said, “OK, whatever you are, I’ll deal with you next spring.”
By mid to late spring of 2014, the “weed” was bulkier, growing in a moderately curved shape out of the ground. What is this, I thought? I tried digging it out, to no avail. I hacked at it a bit. No dice. Whatever it was, it wanted to live. So I let it be. And it grew. It grew more. And it grew quickly. And yes, it grew evident that my trusty tree guys didn’t quite remove all of Brad’s roots. And Brad Jr. was alive and well as its successor.
Good tree sense tells me Brad Jr. and The King are too close together; that they will compete for moisture and nutrients, and that the growth of both will be stunted. But God sense tells me to just let ’em be. Yes, I see the numerous splits in Brad Jr.’s bark, a sign of vulnerability. His lot are susceptible to wind damage, as I’ve learned. “This tree should be removed before it lands on your house ,” I have been told.
True, someday Brad Jr. will be gone. And (spoiler alert) so will I.
Today Brad Jr. stands strong, sprawling more and more with all the summer rain. He and The King and I are getting along just fine. And I really need their shade now – especially since the awning that hung over my west-facing front door fell victim to the stubbornly hellacious winds this past spring and has gone the way of Brad Sr.