Act 2, Scene 13: "A Tree Grows in SB, But for How Much Longer?"

The tree guy was out today. TRL summoned him for an estimate to get rid of dead branches and boughs on the trees scattered about his princely .45 acres. This dead wood was threatening his children every time a breeze was raised, to say nothing of summer squalls or the far off by very real possibility of ice storms. Plus a lovely little tree amidst the great towering oaks was now attracting bees, or hornets, or yellow jackets. TRL did not know what they were except they had begun to swarm over the tree during the daylight hours, making the area around it dangerous for C and E. And over the last few days unsightly white nodules had begun to form on the underside of this tree’s branches. A fungus? Miniature bee hives? A rare and deadly tree infection or home to new breed of disgusting hairy spider, TRL did not know though he was sure he wanted it away. So he called a tree pruner.

Jeff, the tree guy, walked the property and pointed up. Dead, dead, dead, he says, pointing out the obvious and not so obvious. TRL shows him the bee tree.

The tree is dripping sap, it must be sweet, attracts the bees, he says. That white stuff, I don’t know what that is.

Could it be little bee homes?

Tree guy laughs. No. Might be a fungus, or blight. I would take down the whole tree. You see what it is doing to the gutters and the wood over here, tree guys says, pointing to the steps leading to the sun porch. Rot. Leaves. Moisture. Too much shade. It could also introduce ants and bugs into the home with it being so close.

TRL immediately wants the tree gone, severed at its roots. Which was odd, he realizes, because he loves trees and likes looking out on this one from the second-floor office. But it was threatening his home, and attracting the wrong kind of creature – stinging bugs – to the backyard. And with it gone there would be more sunshine, and better access to the outside water facet, and another option for a patio and place to put the barbeque, he thought. He now saw the attraction of the deforested McMansion plots, great big houses and wide green lawns with all trees having been removed. Yes, napalm the entire backyard, TRL thinks to tell tree guy, exterminate the arboreal brutes.

Even as he had these thoughts, TRL knew that his brain was now thinking like a homeowner, and a suburban homeowner at that. He was no longer the city guy angry if a dog crapped near a tree, threatening its roots. An urban citizen raising hell should an old tree on a block be threatened by a developer, snow plows and salt trucks or careless city construction workers. He felt like a pod person, aware of a change, a transmogrification, but not really caring about the change. He was being anesthetized with the sweet drug of landownership.

$1000 to remove all the dead branches, says Jeff the tree guy. $200 more to take out the tree with the bees and grind the stump down.

Right price, exciting idea, thinks TRL. Do it, he almost says, but knows he must talk to S before authorizing the betrunking of the tree: it stood just outside the guest room that S used as an office, and she had grown attached to the lovely tree at the window.