Once the view from the ridge above my house. To the right is a group of pine trees, as of tonight – after six long days of chainsaws and limb grinding – gone. All gone. Sliced and diced and thrown into the wood chipper.

The granddaddy of the tree family was visible from my deck. When I heard the chainsaws and realized what was up, I ran out to get a shot before the sawing began. Unfortunately the rising sun made a good shot impossible.

I know logically that if a tree that size fell it could cause great damage and so it had to go. Slowly and carefully as there are houses nearby. Six days it took and for six days I listened. I could have gone elsewhere but I felt I must stay and mourn it’s passing.

When it comes to trees, I guess you could say I’m a wee bit fay, as the Irish would say.

For thirty years I’d watched hawks perch on top of this tree, surveying the whole valley for prey or just taking in the view. They mounted no defense for fear of the chainsaws, the ropes, and the men shouting and whistling as they worked.

All in Spanish, such a lively language for a grim task. But I had to admire their bravery and skill.

Sawing and grinding until …

The final surrender; only the skeleton remained. Not a dignified ending, my friend, but you will be remembered.