Ash trees along our road are dead or dying, having been attacked by the emerald ash borer that entered North America in 2002.
Evidently the borer originated in eastern Russia, northern China, Japan, and/or
Korea, and arrived here in shipping materials. The little half-inch boring insect destroys tissues beneath the bark that transmit water and nutrients; most
leaves are dead within two years of the onset of symptoms.
Tree removal services took out quite a few ash trees in our
neighborhood during the summer months. Others still stand
naked, some with a blue “x” denoting, I assume, that they’re the next to come
down.
I grew up inspired by trees, particularly oaks, maples, and
sycamores. Trees have personalities;
they’re alive. They're relational. Practically speaking, they also produce oxygen and
reduce pollution, and provide food and homes for animals as well glorious shade
for those beneath their canopy.
Our giant oak, seemingly healthy, resembles a nearby dead
ash in size. May our tree continue to thrive,
to feed the squirrels and deer with its acorns and shelter us from the summer
sun.


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