At about 11 this morning, men from a tree-removal service hired by the village came and cut down some trees on my block. Including the one in front of my house, as woefully promised earlier this summer. This is what the tree looked like in the last few minutes of whatever existence trees have.
By this time, the ash tree wasn't actually providing much shade, so thin were its leaves, and it was a wan shadow of its pre-emerald ash borer self. Then came the man and his large chain saw, to cut a triangular notch in the trunk, in the direction it was to fall.
Soon, he started the main cut.
And then it fell. I was standing just outside my front door, taking pictures. At this point, he didn't yell timber! You know, just for the sake of tradition. Was that ever a real thing? If so, the time to yell would have been before the tree started to fall, while there was still time to get out of the way.
In a few moments, the tree was on the street, soon to be cut up and chipped, in the case of the smaller branches. The larger logs were picked up and put on a truck.
It took the crew about 20 minutes. The stump is still there. If I have the energy, I might go see if I can count the rings.
Labels: suburban Chicago