Smoke tree

Wyatt and Stanzie's mom, who can identify any plant you throw at her, told me this tree in the front yard is called a smoke tree (Cotinus). Some years the leaves are brighter than other years, depending on the weather; but one thing I can always count on is a multitude of shades on the one tree.

This tree branches out in all sorts of directions instead of growing up like a regular tree. Come to think of it, I have several trees in my yard that grow in individual, undisciplined ways.

I'm afraid I just gravitate toward that sort of thing.

The bee tree

Although the honeybee population has suffered a dangerous drop everywhere, you wouldn't know it when this tree is blooming. The entire tree buzzes and wafts a sweet perfume all over the yard, a smell I love even though it makes me sneeze the moment I step outside. I walk under the tree every time I go down to visit the chickens.

I'd say it smells like honeysuckle except that honeysuckle blossoms point up instead of down.

The blossoms have been withering and falling in the past few days, making a nice mess all over. In fact, whoever planted the trees in my back yard seemed to have an affinity for interesting trees that drop bits and pieces three seasons of the year.

Blue spruce

It is probably the wrong time of year to prune a tree but today happened to be the time I remembered to cut the spruce branches hanging at forehead level over the front walkway. With the rain we've been having, forgetting to duck under the tree was like opening a door with a bucket of water fall balanced overhead. I grabbed the electric saw, stood under the nest of branches, and started sawing. Torrents of dry little bits of stuff rained down; and as soon as I'd sawed through the branch, I treated the neighbors to the sight of me doing a little dance, backing away, shaking my shoulders, brushing myself off, leaning over and batting at my hair with both hands. Bugs! In those bits of bark, dead needles and twigs there were sure to be bugs.

I took off several more branches, leaving the poor tree lopsided. If you are over, say, 5 feet, 6 inches tall, you will still have to duck when coming up the front walk.

Years ago there was a different blue spruce in a different front yard. It had snowed and I brought my three-month-old son to the window to show him the snow and watch the sun rise. We had an Airedale then, too. It was one of those moments when you know you have everything--just for that moment--that you could possibly want. And then it's gone.

I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK

I cut all the branches from the fallen sumac tree and made a brushpile (in the background). After cutting a section off the thick part of the trunk and seeing how green and moist it still was inside, I decided to let it die some more before I cut up the rest. It didn't seem right to cut up the part still breathing. I am not, of course, sentimental. Not sure what I'll do with the brush pile but the chunk of trunk is at the foot of some evergreens where it can become a nurse log if it wants to.

"I like to dress in women's clothes...."

fallen tree

The first gust of wind and a tree falls. There were no crack, whoosh, thud noises when it happened sometime last night, so I didn't even know until I went out back this morning. The tree didn't break--it was rotten at the base. So why couldn't it have fallen before I moved in?

I hadn't even had a chance to find out what kind of tree it is; it's not an ordinary one found in every back yard. I took a close-up of its "fruit." If someone happens to know what this is, please leave a comment.