Yuck, what a big mess to deal with. Hope the weather isn't too hot yet.

Yikes, Melissa. A tree really is a gift that keeps on giving, isn't it? Glad you weren't crushed in your sleep by the crashing tree, also.

We grind a lot of our tree branches and such into mulch. That is a wonderful gift, so congratulations on your mulch and steps and new place to garden. Gean

p.s. Please be careful cleaning up your tree; my sliced fingers and gouged skull make me remember how easy it is to get hurt.

This post was edited by harborrose on Sun, May 26, 13 at 11:28

A pic of Treasure Trove "sprawled through the garden" would be nice. That's going to be a lot of work, isn't it?

Here in CA, you can often mark the site of vanished homesites by clusters of locust trees -- well, those and Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima).

I've read that CA pioneers brought locust trees with them, because they found them to be a useful source of fencepost wood.

Jeri

What a shame you lost your tree. I hope it didn't do a lot of damage to other things in the garden. Good luck on the rework and post pics when you've reconfigured everything!

Mmmm Mmmm THAT looks like work! I love black locusts too. Settlers here planted them for the bees because they bloomed at a time when not much else was blooming and so kept the bees going. The wood is also rot resistant hence their use for fence posts. But most of all they are beautiful and fragrant. To continue a conversation on a different thread... I cannot anticipate our ever getting to Italy but miracles do happen. I need several lives.

Cath

Melissa

Oh, oh, oh! I am so sorry the locust's demise occurred this month and not a decade later. Your sustained humor is so impressive. Mulch galore! Sending helpful thoughts for the big cleanup. Is Treasure Trove recovering from the shock as seamlessly as you and DH?

Carol

We're still having fires in the wood stove. This continues to be a historically wet and cold year.
Thanks for the reminder, Gean. So far we haven't done ourselves any harm. No danger of trees falling on the house: the shade garden is downhill and a short distance away from it. It's surprising that it didn't do more damage to other plantings, though nearby trees were rather mauled. The mulch is very, very welcome. Enriching our soil is my life mission.
The photo IS the rose, with the remnant of the locust visible in the middle of the shot. It's not very clear, though: the chaos was difficult to photograph.
Black locusts arrived in Italy from North America some centuries ago, and are naturalized here and common in our area. They were the only tree growing near our house when we bought it.
Seil, yes, you got it: time to reconfigure. Actually the idea of extending the pergola came to me at once. The rose needs something to climb on, and there are no tree candidates; and it ought to work fairly well in the context.
I'm sorry for the loss of my tree, too. I was a little sad for it as I cut up the soft clusters of white pea blossoms and the fresh mossy green wood. But you can't get overly fond of individual locusts: they just don't live long enough.
Cath, keep working on a miracle. I'm an egotist: I rarely get visitors to my garden, and almost never anyone capable of appreciating it, and I really enjoy showing it to understanding eyes.
I don't know how much damage 'Treasure Trove' has suffered, but most of it is still fine, if messy. The real horrors are going to begin when we try to get it up on the future extension of the pergola. And cutting down and disposing of the remainder of the locust is not going to be a stroll in the park, either.
Melissa

Mellissa, so happy for your jolly spirit during this trying spirit. Greatfully your hubby has a chainsaw. They are certainly useful machines though somewhat jarring in the sound. They should have mufflers.
So with the tree down the surrounding plants should get more light. I wonder if some remaining specimens will bloom more? Just a thought.
Jeannie

Twice huge Oaks have come down in the garden. One was growing 100 feet away and the top came down breaking the fence and 4 arches. Another had a gigantic poison oak vine growing in it. Removing that was a real trick. These clean ups are so much work. I wouldn't wish them on anyone. Your attitude far better than mine was.

grief - I agree that you are showing remarkable fortitude (although what else can you do apart from having a major tantrum and flinging crockery about - and there's enough damage already). Am just returning from a couple of days in the woods, contemplating the felling of enormous poplars (also coming towards the end of life). Amazingly, our local council has just completed a tree planting programme consisting entirely of rose acacias - lovely little trees but worse even than crack willow for dropping limbs. The story behind this planting is long and involves scandalous and corrupt doings so I am afraid to say it was with a certain amount of glee I wrote to the municipal planning dept. with a lengthy and tediously detailed tale of urban disasters (and resulting compo claims).
However, I am sending huge commiserations because this is a busy time of year and the clean-up operation is truly demanding. Losing a plant presents an opportunity....and in this case, it is more than a little nudge but a whopping great shove towards enacting landscape changes. I doubt you are not up to the challenge though, Melissa, since you already possess the most priceless attitude for any gardener - a sense of humour. Luckily, you also have the second most important character trait....which is a gentle appreciation of the capriciousness of nature.

I wish I could develop a gentle appreciation of the capriciousness of armadillos. Every time I go out and observe their latest depredation, I feel like going into Rumplestiltskin mode, jumping up and down screaming.

I know it's pointless to get angry, but I can't seem to help myself. I sat out in the yard with a shotgun for an entire week until the wee hours of the morning and never caught the buggers.

I'm going to repeat Camp's phrase over and over in the morning and see if it will help me control my blood pressure.

Florida,
my admiration of you grows by the minute. I know no one else with worms in her hair who drives a lavender tractor and is a determined armadillo hunter, all for the love of a garden. I will try to write a poem for you, which will probably be no worse than the songs-we-can't-get out-of-our-mind. Okay, it might be a lot worse, but it will be written with great admiration. Maybe Kippie and P-Laura will add a verse or two.

Gean

Gean, you remembered the Lavender Lady! Her paint job is starting to show its age. Loved your haiku on the missing posts thread. The worm thing is probably something I will never forget.

Melissa, I am not much of a traveler, but it would be wonderful to see your garden. I've been so glad you've been posting pictures. Wood chipped mulch is a gardener's gift. When I hurt myself is usually when I'm overtired (will she never stop nagging?? ) so do take it easy. Gean

I went silent for a few days--it does happen occasionally--and didn't respond to comments on this thread as I intended. But I'm back for a few remarks. I like it when people write back and certainly want to encourage you folks to keep on doing so.
I think the difference between the rage level caused by a fallen tree and animal damage is that the animal damage is pure loss, while a fallen tree has a good deal to offer: mulch, wood for terracing, steps, firewood perhaps. We have wild boars, mice, and, recently and by far the worst, roe deer. So far fencing the garden with flagging tape has kept the deer at bay. Apparently we have wolves moving into our area, and, if the sheepherders can figure out how to protect their flocks, perhaps the wolves will turn their attention to the deer. It's a wild world here in the hills.
Concerning garden design opportunities opened up by this, uh, opening, well, yes, unexpected events do get my creative juices cheerfully flowing. This is pretty simple, though, just an extension of the pergola. Everything else ought to stay pretty much as before, though I have set to work on some tasks I'd had in mind for a while, developing the paths and steps down in that area, and maybe I'll add a seat. The additional light won't make a lot of difference one way or the other, I think, except that lilac 'Charles Joly' will probably appreciate the change.
Gean, and others, if you do start planning a trip to Italy, keep us in mind. We have room for guests and I certainly do love showing the garden. Rose season starts at the end of April and runs through about mid-June but is heavily conditioned by the weather. This year with our very rainy gray spring (my fingers keep wanting to type sproing, which is an apt description of the season) the warm climate roses have been somewhat iffy--better recently as it's warmed up--while the once bloomers have been generally glorious. But even in bad years there's always something to see.
Melissa