The old black locust situated 20 feet from the kitchen door was my favourite. It was the tree I whispered my secrets too while I was hanging laundry. It proudly held the tire swing that would let the kidlet soar. Our resident troll lived beneath it, in a hole beside it's roots.
While tucking the kiddo into bed last week a storm was lighting the sky outside. The was a very sudden and very loud bang. Like nothing I had ever heard before. It was quite frightening. Mr Pixie ran down stairs to see what had happened but nothing seemed amiss.
The next morning I noticed that the oven was on the fritz. The control panel was displaying strange messages (give me a good old fashioned knob any day... that sounds rude but you know what I mean). Later, the Mr noticed some bark on the ground and a giant crack in the tree.
The arbourist came straight away and pointed out a small spot wayyyyy up high. Our tree, my keeper of secrets, had been struck by lightening. It had to come down immediately.
And so at 9am the next day 120 feet of tree came down. I didn't know one could get so emotionally attached to a tree, but judging from my feelings, you can. It was a hard day.
The 'carnage' was incredible and overwhelming and sad. My tree, my keeper of secrets, strewn across the lawn. BUT...
... the house was safe. That the gods that tree took the strike and not this old timbre frame house! Thank the gods that tree was strong enough to stand and not fall into the kitchen!
... we have an abundance of wood to create some large fairy houses, to make stump seats for bonfires and make an abundance of wands.
... lightening struck wood is considered quite magically potent and being that the Black Locust is a protective wood, our tree will continue to protect as we use its wood.
And although most of that tree is gone, there is still a bit left to whisper secrets to while I hang my laundry beneath its branches.
