"She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee..."

I just made an appointment with a "tree preservation specialist" -- recommended by an old friend of my Mom -- a guy who used to work for them. He knows our trees and knows that money isn't plentiful and knows how good they are at that company. Most important, he knows how much Mom loved trees. When we moved here there were none. It was pasture land. She planted trees and cared for them and loved them and did everything she could to help them thrive. The two trees closest to the house are very close. They're 50 years old -- big maples. They've been pruned and thinned, and up until about 10 years ago, they were well-shaped. But they've grown too tall. They threaten the house. Mom, when her world began to collapse on itself, feared for her life in storms since the trees were right over her head. But we didn't do anything about them. Money, time, indecision ...all the usual reasons.

I know that storm damage can wipe out a house and ruin people financially, even with good insurance. So I knew I had to do something about the trees. I wrote to her old friend, who's living in Michigan now, retired. He told me NOT to cut them down -- but to have these specialists come in and estimate the cost of re-shaping and shortening.

I got his letter two weeks ago and I just now FINALLY worked up the courage to make the call. It was "Mom's job." They were her trees. I knew it would be hard to do, stupidly hard, but hard, and I was right. I shook the entire time I was on the phone.

Anyway, the appointment is made. The tree guy is due here on Monday. It'll cost a lot  -- more than I can afford.  But to lose the roof? Way worse. 

To lose Mom's trees? Unthinkable.