Why do people hate and fear trees? It seems incredible, but there’s plenty of anecdotal evidence to support such a bizarre conclusion.
During a recent afternoon at my regular salon, the owner told me about an encounter with a neighbor. She has a large elm tree in the back of her property that overhangs—as is very common—the property next door. Apparently, the tree is dropping plenty of leaves and other debris in her neighbor’s backyard. During a discussion with her neighbor, my friend suggested that the tree could be trimmed so that no branches intruded on his property. In response, her neighbor bluntly suggested—“Why don’t you just take it down?”
Another friend of mine moved to the city from the suburbs about ten years ago. She drove by her old house recently and couldn’t help but notice that almost all of the twenty-plus trees on her former property were gone. I remember when we visited her there years ago. The house was modest, but there were acres of wooded yard behind it—perfect for disc golf and kids’ adventures. It’s all gone now—just a few meatball shrubs and lots of mulch.
The garden columnist for the magazine I edit can confirm the paranoid attitude that many homeowners seem to have toward trees. She relates that one of her clients had an issue with the height of a certain tree. “Can’t we trim that back?” he asked. His concern was—yes—that the tree was intruding too far into the sky.
As for me, I have more reason to resent trees than most gardeners. There are three (3) maples—two Norway—within a twenty-foot area in front of my house, not to mention a big cherry planted in my front yard. The roots are visible above the ground in many spots; the dry shade these trees produce severely limits what I can plant here. Indeed, this is why I’m such a bulb freak; early spring is the only time I can have color.
Yet. I wouldn’t even begin to consider getting rid of these trees. They’re not the best choices (I didn’t pick them), but they’re beautiful in their way. They’re trees. They do all the things that trees are supposed to do: absorb CO2, cool the house, provide oxygen, decorate the street. They’re part of the reason I’d never dream of living in a denuded suburb. Long live trees—with all their problems.