Chapter 4 - An Answer Nobody Wanted
Dana arrived Wednesday at seven-thirty with boots muddy from an earlier job and a notebook full of little drawings. She measured the trunk, looked for decay, photographed roots and branch unions, and followed the canopy over the trail.
“The tree is generally sound,” she said. “But it's overgrown for this location. I'd recommend selective reduction, not topping. And you need a maintenance schedule during fruiting season.”
“Can the berries be stopped?” Ellie asked.
“Not without changing the tree. You can collect more of them, clean sooner, and manage what's over the path. It takes work.”
Dana handed me a written estimate. It was more than I could comfortably spend, but nowhere near the price of losing the tree. She had also marked a section that could be trimmed from the common side without entering our yard.
For the first time in days, I felt my shoulders loosen.
At the Thursday meeting, I set the report on the folding table in the clubhouse. Eleven residents sat in plastic chairs. Cynthia wore a light blue blazer. Ben balanced a sleeping toddler against his shoulder; his wife worked nights at the hospital, and he'd come straight from daycare pickup.
“This independent assessment gives us a path,” I began. “We'll pay for safe pruning and ongoing cleanup. I'm asking you to withdraw the removal notice.”
Cynthia skimmed the cover. “Your expert was hired by you.”
“Yes. You didn't hire one.”
She looked up. “The public walkway is not your private garden.”
“No. That's why I'm offering to maintain it with you.”
A neighbor named Roger said the mulberries stained his dog's paws. Someone else said they loved the shade. People started talking over one another until Pilar reminded them this was a board session, not an argument at the mailbox.
Ben leaned forward. “Can we authorize the pruning and set a review date?”
Cynthia tapped a pen against her folder. “What happens when somebody falls while we're waiting?”
“We clean the path now,” I said. “We can put up a caution sign during the heavy drop. We can review the work in thirty days.”
“Your daughter's been sweeping, hasn't she?” Cynthia asked.
I looked at Ellie, sitting near the doorway. “Yes.”
“Then you understand the burden.”
Cynthia had found the one fact I couldn't dismiss.
The board voted to table full removal, three to two, and authorize Pilar to request a separate estimate for trimming only the overhanging growth. Cynthia voted against the delay. But she said the removal notice would remain active until there was a signed maintenance arrangement.
Afterward I caught her at the coffee urn. “You could just admit cutting the whole tree is too much.”
“People expect me to take safety seriously,” she replied. “If I back down every time someone has a sentimental story, I won't be able to do this job.”
Then she said, almost too quietly, “And if somebody gets hurt again, they'll say I knew.”
May you like
For a second I recognized fear beneath her anger. Then I thought of the orange X and walked away.
At home an email arrived from a board member I'd never spoken to: Cynthia is asking for an emergency work session tomorrow. She's calling your tree an imminent hazard.
