On the South Circle of Irvington, a great tree grows; it is on the east side of the circle, across from the park. The bust of Washington Irving poses mutely in the face of the massive growth, in contrast to my awe and wonder at the slow, inevitable destruction wrought by the trees upward climb and outward expansion. I have been marveling at the tree for years; its life has lifted and split the sidewalk poured near it. The tree towers over a house that may have been built when it was young, but the tree is now encroaching on the steps of that house, which have been moved upward by the growth of the roots beneath it.
I thought about that tree on the night of Wednesday, April 8. A severe thunderstorm warning was crawling across the top of my TV screen; high winds and damaging hail were anticipated. At approximately 9 p.m., while sitting in a chair in front of my living room window, I heard a sharp crackle, and a pop, and saw a yellow cloud of sparks furiously escaping the transformer on the telephone pole across the street. When we looked out the door, my daughter pointed out downed power lines, wrenched free by the fall of a massive limb from a tree.
There are a lot of old-growth trees in Irvington, some towering presences that mimic – but do not rival – the 400-year-old Kyle Oak. One of those old trees collapsed onto the street where I live last September; it did not bring down power lines, but did block the street. Three young helpers pitched in and with their aid, my neighbors and I cleared the debris from the street. But the tree that plunged my street into darkness on April 8 did not spill a mass of spindly limbs that could have been brushed aside by the willing and able neighbors of my street. It was not until after the three occupants of my house had spent some terrified moments in the basement — the appropriate response to the wail of the tornado sirens — that I was able to brave the blowing wind and rains and step into the street to observe emergency personnel scratching their hard-hatted heads and perhaps, wondering how to clear the blockage.
Various workers brought an array of trucks and equipment to bear against the small scale disaster. At 2 a.m. that Wednesday night (Thursday morning), I stepped onto my porch to watch and listen to an initial round of chain-sawing, while worrying whether or not my cell phone’s battery would last until Indianapolis Power and Light had restored power to the street. The automated voice on IPL’s emergency services line assured me, “we are aware of the outage.” I walked the street at first light on Thursday, snapping pictures and marveling at the mighty arm that had broken away from the tree trunk; a huge white scar marked the place from which it had been torn.
A nearby neighbor posted on a social media site that a tree had been blown onto her roof that Wednesday night; there were reports of other downed trees in Irvington. The tree on the South Circle that I have been watching for years, still stands, but the trees are old, and many are fragile. My street was lucky: Our power was restored at noon on Friday, April 10, and as far as I know, no harm was done to a person as a result of the thunder and lightning.
But, the trees of Irvington are falling, leaving behind them, a sad abundance of firewood.
cjon3acd@att.net
