August 14, 2004

Hater Pears

We have – we had, I should say – We HAD these 2 big bushy Bradford pear trees in our yard. One by the side of the house. One right out in front in the center of the yard by the driveway.

A few days ago, the side yard tree decided to drop about a third of itself right onto our house. HEH. One month before we are ‘sposed to SELL the house, with a buyer and a closing date and everything.

And so now the OTHER 2/3rds of the tree have to be taken out before closing by a man called an "arborist," which is Latin for “very expensive.” According to my arborist, once a Bradford pear begins to drop whole chunks of itself, it continues to do so until it is all gone. It’s how they die. Of old age. When they are about 20. Bradfords are apparently these youth culture trees that were genetically engineered on the set of the Logan’s Run miniseries.

SO then, today the OTHER Bradford pear decided to drop a third of itself. It was at least considerate. It did not drop onto the house. Instead, it chose to plummet its chunk onto my driveway. Where my van was parked.

So I would say it’s been a pretty good week, assuming you are my arborist.

ANOTHER THING just occurred to me: This is clearly my husband's fault. The first spring we lived in this house, he came in and said, DID SOMETHING DIE IN THE YARD?

Me: I haven't noticed any corpses.
Him: Seriously, Somethign Evil is dead out there. Long dead.

So we went outside and I sniffed around. Nothing. Nada. Smelled nice and clean and green and renewed and damp and lovely, like it does every spring.

Me: No...maybe you just have a brain tumor? Does it smell like burned popcorn?
Him: No. It smells like what you would smell if someone made a giant alive monster entirely out of cat pee, and then the cat pee monster died, and three weeks post mortum you came along and gave it a good sniffing.

He tracked it down, following his nose, and what he was smelling was.....the blooms on the Bradford pear. The smell of the little pretty springy fresh flowers was ABHORRENT to him. Every spring he would say, UGH THAT CAT PEE TREE HAS BLOOMED AGAIN, HASN'T IT.

And there I ssat like a dork, WONDERING why these trees were persecuting us! IT WAS HIM! IT WAS HIM! Man, trees are stupid. And they have dreadful aim -- I feel certain that second tree was going for his Honda.

Posted by joshilyn at August 14, 2004 5:04 PM


Posted by: Heather at August 14, 2004 7:05 PM


Posted by: Klint at August 14, 2004 9:55 PM

Oh no... this runner is going down.

Posted by: Mr. Husband at August 15, 2004 8:42 AM