"Soupçon. Silky Cauliflower Soup with a dollop of Peter Rabbit's Soup. Lots of Chelsea lore, historical and anecdotal, kept the conversation buzzing," we captioned this delicious image from our June 2008 post "A rose is a rose is a napkin."
There was till just this afta a magical "outdoor room" just outside our kitchen window, a Silver Maple Court sheltered by the embrace of cascading weeping boughs that made a shimmering, light-and-shadowing place apart from the brutally sun-baked lawn. Then came well-meaning tree surgeons who reduced our outdoor room to a vast, undefined space with unwanted views of the neighbors' unkempt windows and walls. Just a bare trunk with an umbrella of leafy boughs far above. As we twittered in mental anguish this afternoon:
My precious "outdoor room," The Maple Court shaped by grand old silver maple shading our terrace, has been destroyed by overpruning. Tears.
Twitter gal pal Angela Lash comforted us with sweet sympathy:
I'm so sorry to hear that, Sissy. Those are my favorite kinds of rooms. :(
And we in reply:
I am bereft. Canopy will fill in in time, but lower branches that created the intimacy of my precious garden room won't grow back … Kind of like life itself, I guess. Will have a snort of rum and have to move on.
We had a marital spat with the Tuckster over it, he said and she said, but in the end we kissed and made up, sharing the sorrow of our heartfelt loss. Now talking remediation. Multi-stemmed River Birches for starters? They're fast growers and were a favorite of our landscape architectural hero Frederick Law Olmsted's.
Update: Dan sends sweet words of comfort:
Awww, don't worry, tree happy!! ; ) There are no wood chips in heaven!