Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree… please don’t ever lee-ave me

  

I’ve always tried to take nothing for granted; I’m not kidding, at the end of the workday I usually say a quick prayer of thanks that I arrived home safely without being robbed or run over by a bus.  And dammit, who are all these Asian girls and why are they hanging out on the street corner across from my apartment building?  They’re all wearing steel toed boots and smoking! 

Asian girl-gang, I can assure you I carry less than $20 and I don’t own a smart phone.  It’s not worth it.

I say all this because right now I’m wondering if I’ll be losing something I HAVE taken for granted since I first moved in this apartment umpteen years ago; the giant pine tree that protects me from the outside world.

Earlier today, I was working from home when I heard a chain-saw growling outside; what’s going on?  No matter, I don’t care if it’s the Texas Chainsaw Man--I’m safe in here!  It wasn’t until an hour or so later I heard “WHAT?  OH NO!” from the apartment next to mine that I ventured outside to take a look.  I was shocked, the two pine trees (one large, one small) that stood in front of the balcony next to mine, and shielded the world from my rude neighbors were GONE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

From last year, the trees in front of their patio—and now, all that remains is a muddy patch of dirt, a couple stumps and some cigarette butts

As much as I dislike that pair, I feel their pain.  The pine tree that stands in front of my own patio doors is huge, over 5 stories tall.  I take a lot of comfort from it being there, it makes me feel a little closer to nature.  Birds build their nests there in the spring, and after a snowfall the view from my balcony is as pretty as a Christmas card.  (The residents across the hall are facing a brick wall, some are looking directly into another person’s apartment windows, so I feel especially fortunate.)  And most importantly, that tree allows me to walk around in my shorts without having to worry who can see what!

 

As this illustration shows, the poor homeowners across the way from our balconies will now be subjected to my awful neighbors going-ons; and darn it, they’re a nice older couple too

Will my tree be the next to get the axe?  Who chopped down those other ones anyway?  My building’s management says it wasn’t them, but Theresa (our oldest resident who’s lived here since 1975) insists those trees didn’t belong to our neighbors, but were planted by our apartment building’s original owners and she knows because she was witness to said event. 

(Theresa also suggested it could’ve been someone who wanted a live Christmas tree.  When I pointed out those trees were 4-5 stories tall, she said “Well you never know with the size of these houses today”)

If there was ever a time for a Christmas miracle… mysterious lumberjacks, please spare my tree!