Sorrow And Joy In Wood.

As many of you already know, I live in a white house on a hill, overlooking the city below. I love my house and I love my surroundings.
It is a chain house, connected to four other houses, each with one or two small terraces or patios. Additionally, we all share a large front yard and an extensive, secluded, tranquil, almost park-like backyard, covered by multitude of shrubs and beautiful birch or pine trees.

Living in a chain house, very close to other families, has its pros and its cons.
Looking at the bright side, among other things; I do not need to mow the lawn. I do not need to shovel the snow (or very rarely). I do not ever feel lonely or anxious. Houses get painted and things get fixed without me troubling my mind about it. Furthermore, when I travel, Batcat is in good hands, well looked after - and so is my house.

But with this said, living in such close proximity to at least eight other individuals creates situations that can make my irritation level rise. Not always will decisions be made that are to my liking. Still, democracy rules even our little neighborhood and thus at times I have to accept and surrender to the will of the majority.
Therefore, with sad and heavy heart I watched my neighbour trimming down the lush growth in our backyard last weekend, cutting down three magnificent birch trees further down the hill and two beautiful spruce trees right in front of my windows - those that used to adorn my westbound vistas.

It was painful and it was tragic.
It made my heart ache, as the beautiful pines gave my view a certain perspective, which is lacking visibly now.
The beautiful birches that I loved to watch throughout the seasons are now lying in a neat pile on my terrace - cut up in pieces, drying out for next winters fire wood. Mixed with the pine, they look so beautiful, yet gazing at them brings a certain sadness to my perception.

However, this prompted me to contemplate the fact that every winter, my fireplace burns away logs that were once lovely trees somewhere beautiful, growing in beautiful woods, overlooking lakes or meadows. Enjoying the crackling fire for months each year, I should at least consider this fact.
Thus being ever the optimist that I am - trying to find something good in everything bad - I do take solace in the the few positive consequences which arose from this drastic action.

Such as the renewed unrestricted view of the west cardinal direction, where very soon magnificent sunsets will take place, leaving me to enjoy the evening sky. Likewise, my terrace will receive more sun in the summer, no longer hiding in the shade of the spruced branches. Furthermore, to be fair to my otherwise very kind and very good neighbour, he spend a lot of time trimming the trees and shrubs that obstruct our northwesterly view and thus once again, I can see the city lights unfold every evening below. Comes June, this is where the midnight sun will move across the sky, setting the heavens on fire.
Last but not least - I have some firewood for the next winter season.

As I will rejoice in the commencing summer sunsets and in the cosy fires of the new winter, I will remember with great joy and a sting of melancholy those magnificent beauties, which once stood as silent sentinels outside my windows and I will take consolation in the very personal desire that arose from this event - and that is to one day plant a tree.

One day in a far (or near) future, perhaps in a house on another hill.
In any case, a tree that will never be cut down - not in my life time at least.