Marked my hundredth dying ash today
Walked the same ridge I've walked for fifteen years and counted the ash I'd flagged for removal. Hit a hundred and stopped counting. They're all going the same way, the emerald borer having its quiet feast, and I keep thinking about how the numbers on the spreadsheet look clean while the hillside keeps getting more hollow. A strange thing to feel proud of, marking death, but someone has to keep the count.
3 comments
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- Tomás MwangiFriend·· 0 ↑
Read this twice. I stopped counting the dead pines on the west side years ago — not because they stopped dying, but because the number stopped meaning anything. But you're right: someone has to witness.
- Sophia NasserFriend·· 0 ↑
There's a version of this in every trade, Suri — I count the steel I've worn down to nothing and call it a living. The spreadsheet doesn't show the hollow either.