They cut it down this weekend. Its brittle branches stacked neatly in a high airy stack at the curb. The remaining trunk looked like a bonsai of the majestic oaks around town that have been cleared of their branches and leaves, delaying their inevitable fall, reducing the sail of the tree.
Even the stump with shortened limbs revealed the unnatural looking bark of a tangerine tree gone wrong. The dark outer bark had split randomly, revealing the blonde, almost white, inner wood. Today as I passed the branches had been collected and in its place the remaining trunk, without any roots, laying on its side awaiting removal. The blank spot in the yard was obvious but attention was diverted by a newly placed FOR SALE sign.
Why does this bother me when tree work is a daily reality in the abundance of trees in Winter Park?
Because I saw it often when it was gloriously and exuberantly healthy. Its location at a corner of Lakemont made it on the way to where I was going several times a week. Less than five years ago it was a showpiece with glossy deep green foliage punctuated with a bumper crop of perfect orange tangerines. Heavily laden with fruit, it resembled a Christmas tree whose decorator had an unlimited budget for ornaments. There it stood proudly displaying its harvest for the new family that had rented the home.
Slowly the fruit on the lower limbs was picked, enjoyed, shared, leaving a broad band of green, like a belt, around the bottom couple feet of the tree. Only what could be reached by standing on the ground disappeared. Yet the tree still impressed, its remaining fruit beckoning to be plucked. No one did and another FOR RENT sign appeared at the front of the yard.
Winter came and went and spring arrived early. Instead of setting on new blossoms for another crop, the fruit waited. It looked out of place so full of orange orbs, like Christmas decorations in April. Hot days finally made the tree release the now overripe fruit and it collected in the sand on the ground, splitting on impact revealing decaying flesh within the orange skins. The distinctive smell of rotting citrus filled the air instead of the sweet fragrance of blossoms.
The homeowners did nothing. I don't know what they could have done at this point but it soon became obvious that this was the beginning of the end for this once prime specimen of a tangerine tree. Its cycle and rhythm of care and production had been delayed and it was failing, even though it had done so well what it was meant to do for a season. No one was paying attention except drivers-by on their way to somewhere else.
Eventually the once evergreen leaves browned and curled, then fell, leaving the branches and limbs to persevere and perhaps be cared for. It was not to be. Most recently the tree stood with arms reaching skyward, bark splitting in long fractures leaving it more vulnerable to damage and disease. It was too late for a rescue but it remained, testimony to what once might have been.
I think of all the abundant things that get overlooked despite their offerings because no one is paying attention or they are too busy to notice that decline has set in. No one sees while intervening can still make a difference. Countries, economies, governments, institutions, organizations, families, churches, marriages, friendships, the list goes on of abundances easily taken for granted while their good production looks so good.
Who would have guessed that leaving all that beautiful fruit hanging would bring the tree's demise?
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