Here’s the latest:
Our trees died. All the ponderosa pines, at least.
Three weeks after discovering bark beetles had struck our biggest pines, on the 4th of July, we came back to our cabin in Arnold to discover…
They were all dead. Already.
It happened FAST. Here we were, fancy sprinkler equipment in hand, Scot the rediscovered-childhood-friend-turned-arborist lined up to arrive at 7:00 AM on Saturday morning and start injecting the biggest and strongest of the trees with insecticide, precise watering instructions from him typed up to keep us busy for two days in preparation, alarms set, beer bought, and…
Nope. They were gone. Yellow to the tip of every needle, 120 feet high. Four of them in the front, along the road, and another seven in the back, standing so tall that we couldn’t even see they had died unless we stood out in the road and looked over our roof, and beyond the tops of our tallest cedars.
Nature said “SCREW YOU, SILLY HUMANS!” Continue reading