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When a tree falls

Until yesterday I lived on a small city lot with three spruce trees. They stand on either side of the steps leading up to the front door. They shelter you from snow and rain as you come up to the house or leave it. And they tower over the front of the house, shading us from sun in the west and providing a hiding place for birds from our evil cat.

But the three sisters are now two. Every year they lose some lower branches and this year there are so many dead needles we had to call in an arborist. He said they were too crowded on our little lot and at least one should go. It was the smallest one, closest to the house, that fell.

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