There is a Sweet Gum tree that stands about three feet away from my bedroom wall: majestic, probably five stores tall, a lovely complement to the red oak next door, and a royal pain in the ass, because it drops hundreds and hundreds of prickly balls that are anything but sweet. I bitch about those balls constantly and worry that the tree will one day fall into my house. Today, the tree came down.
I was in my bedroom when I heard about 10 seconds of ping...ping...ping that sounded at first like gun shots and then, I thought, "Is that a firecracker?" At that moment, I was terrified and ran down the hall, herding Grif with me. By the time I got to the middle of the house, Tony was aghast, looking into the backyard and saying, "Oh my God, a tree just fell on the house.
Yes, indeed.
Half of the tree fell on the roof of our courtyard, but as my neighbor Lil pointed out, "It hit the best possible place." The tree missed the main part of the house, and the fabulous steel posts that hold up the courtyard roof kept the tree from smashing into our beautiful serpentine brick wall. Still, it's a mess.
The tree removal crew arrives at 7 a.m. tomorrow, but Jarred from Woodland Trees had this bit of info: He blamed the ivy that had wrapped it's way up the tree. "The ivy adds a tremendous amount of weight to the tree," he said. "I see this at least three times a week."
So there you have it. Ivy is bad. Don't let it grow on anything.
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