There’s an old tree on the lawn of a stately North Shore home. One morning, workers with saws and cranes take it down.
The grinding noise of a woodchipper is nonnegotiable. Soon, all is quiet. But there’s a bare spot on that pretty street.
Last spring the birds of summer raised a family in that tree. Today, those birds have migrated. But you wonder, what will they think when they come back? Makes you muse about the power of “place” in all our lives.
Many of us live here simply because we always did. We might have second homes somewhere warm, but we come back. The power of place has a hold.
Next spring, the birds who nested in that tree will find their home has been literally uprooted. Sure, they’ll get by. If it’s one thing that’s even more certain than the power of place, it’s the inevitability of change. Still, you feel a little sorry when you look at that blank spot on the pretty lawn. And not just for the birds.
This column was adapted by Mike Lubow from his book: Wild Notes: Observations over time about birds and other fleeting things. Available on amazon.com.