Lumber and Mulch

After rhapsodizing yesterday about tree tunnels and way stations, I learned that one of these shady spots had a defector. Another giant fallen. This on a cloudless, breezeless day, not long after I walked by.

I'm not surprised at the toppling. The tree (I'm trying to identify it from its leaves — maybe a cottonwood?) had been leaning for years, and had reached such a precipitous angle that it was only a matter of time before gravity got the better of it.

The trees in my neighborhood can be 80 to 100 feet tall. When one comes down, it can smash a roof or block the street. In this case, since it happened only a few feet before an intersection, it effectively shut down access to the outside world. 

Help was soon on the way. Before you could shout "timber" the thick trunk was chainsawed and pulled out of the way. But this tall, shade-producer, leaning and bent though it was, had become a companion on my walks, a landmark of sorts. Now it's only lumber and mulch.