Chapter 6 - The Difference Between Trim and Remove
I walked fast enough that the broom bounced against my leg. Owen stepped out of the truck and pulled on a reflective vest.
“It's after eight,” I said. “Why are you here?”
“Site walk. I'm not cutting tonight.” He pointed at the fence. “They asked for a quote on trail clearance.”
“Good. That's what the board voted for.”
He unrolled a sketch. It showed the trail, fence, canopy, and the center of the trunk. A thick red line circled the crown. Someone had written FULL CLEARANCE PREFERRED in the margin.
“Who wrote that?”
“I don't know. It was on the sheet they sent.”
I took a picture, with his permission. “Your company won't enter my yard, right?”
“Not without authorization. My boss handles contracts. I just survey sites.”
Owen leaned close to the fence and checked the tree from different angles. “You should know heavy removal on one side can make a mess of the balance. I told them that.”
The next morning I sent his sketch and Dana's report to every board member. Ben called within ten minutes.
“Nora, you're not supposed to have that contractor sheet.”
“Neither is the sheet supposed to say full clearance.”
“It's a preference, not an order.”
“Cynthia's preference.”
A child cried on his end of the line. He covered the phone and murmured something gentle. When he returned he said, “You're right to ask questions. But the more you accuse people, the harder it gets to fix this.”
“Then help me fix it.”
He went quiet. “I can ask for the signed instruction. I can't promise you I'll win a board vote.”
At noon Pilar emailed that the association would proceed with limited pruning “as needed for trail access,” under its maintenance provision, starting Monday. The email expressly said no full removal was authorized. I printed it and taped it inside the kitchen cabinet where Ellie kept her cereal.
For two days I cleaned berries and told myself we had a compromise. Dana couldn't attend the work because she was scheduled in another county, but she gave me instructions for what to watch for and offered to review photographs afterward.
Monday at nine, I was behind the circulation desk when Ellie called. Her words arrived broken by the sound of machinery.
“Mom, they're inside our fence.”
“Who?”
May you like
“The tree guys. Cynthia's here. They've already cut the big branch with my height marks.”
I dropped a stack of returned books so hard they scattered around my shoes. Ellie started crying, and beneath her voice I heard a chainsaw rev again.
