Windfall
I spent an hour clearing a couple of miles of the Charles River bike path tonight, tossing branches and clumps of foliage out of the way, snapping off what I couldn't move. There was one fallen tree that I couldn't shift, maybe five inches in diameter, but by the time I headed home from Diesel a crew had gotten to it with chainsaws. The north side path should be passable from Brighton to Cambridge now.
Irene did destroy one of my favorite trees in Boston. There's a wooded, unpaved cutoff from the main bike path by the American Legion post, threading the space between the Charles and a crescent of protected marshland. About halfway down, there was a gorgeous old maple stretching out over the Charles, its thick trunk forming a perfect spot for secluded reclining before forking into two waist-thick branches. One of the branches is now lying in the river; the other crashed down to block the path. (It's possible, barely, to pick a route through the arches of branches.) Examining the break, I saw about four inches of good wood ringing a spongy brown center, so it was inevitable. A bold little woodpecker joined my inspection, hopping head-cocked up and down the broken trunk not five feet away. I was sad to lose the tree, but the woodpecker reminded me that every death in the forest is good news for something else.
To underscore that, dozens of happy mushrooms of many kinds are pushing up beside the paths. I also spotted a great blue heron soaring overhead and a flock of Canada geese taking a running launch from the river. Diesel was crowded, and playing 80s pop hits. Not so bad.
(Edit: I'm pretty sure this is the tree, poking out into the river.)
Irene did destroy one of my favorite trees in Boston. There's a wooded, unpaved cutoff from the main bike path by the American Legion post, threading the space between the Charles and a crescent of protected marshland. About halfway down, there was a gorgeous old maple stretching out over the Charles, its thick trunk forming a perfect spot for secluded reclining before forking into two waist-thick branches. One of the branches is now lying in the river; the other crashed down to block the path. (It's possible, barely, to pick a route through the arches of branches.) Examining the break, I saw about four inches of good wood ringing a spongy brown center, so it was inevitable. A bold little woodpecker joined my inspection, hopping head-cocked up and down the broken trunk not five feet away. I was sad to lose the tree, but the woodpecker reminded me that every death in the forest is good news for something else.
To underscore that, dozens of happy mushrooms of many kinds are pushing up beside the paths. I also spotted a great blue heron soaring overhead and a flock of Canada geese taking a running launch from the river. Diesel was crowded, and playing 80s pop hits. Not so bad.
(Edit: I'm pretty sure this is the tree, poking out into the river.)