tree fell

just over six months ago, we decorated the pine tree in our garden with three painted, woven hearts.

for a wedding.

now, the pine tree that shaded the speeches, tears and tables is only a pile of neatly packed, dismembered segments.

lying horizontal in a circle around the stump, the stump they used to be vertically arranged on.

they're waiting to be used for furniture, but for now, they're stationary, dead.

on the other side of the garden, below my second-storey window, is another tree-felling casualty- the dated date palm.

the tree that has unknowingly been shielding me from outside night light.

its absence felt to the extent that i have to tuck the side-edge of my curtains into the burglar bar frames to prevent a yellow line of window light on the perpendicular wall.

which annoys me.

being highly sensitive to night-time noise at night, and light, something i think is genetic after i noticed the covered glow-in-the-dark alarm pad in my parent's bedroom.

where the decision was probably made to take down the trees.

trees that were posing potential problems due to their height, age and lightning conductive capabilities.

but even though i understand why they are gone, and that the dated date palm was a fad from years ago, and had to go, the garden seems bare and exposed without them.

their absence has even confused the hadedas, judging from one that i watched flying towards where the pine tree used to be, squawking, and then turning back to land in an adjacent jacaranda on the other side of the electric fence, still squawking.

now that the trees are gone they'll be no more loeries at the top of their pine-top crows-nest either, no more lizards silently making their way up the solid, slightly rough texture of the palm trunk.

but maybe like everything else, they'll have to adapt to not having them around.

just like i'm going to have to too.