That which we cannot change

Numerous times since Saturday I've reminded myself of the aphorism attributed to St. Francis of Assisi about having the grace to accept the things you can't change. The thing my wife and I can't change is the loss of a backdrop of trees that were cut from our neighbor's yard. She has blogged about it here. Our side yard ends at a board fence, but that otherwise plain and homely fence was softened and graced by the low-hanging boughs of trees that hung over the top of the fence. Those overhanging boughs provided us dogwood blossoms in spring and colorful leaves in the fall. The contrasting red dogwood and yellow sassafras leaves, along with some shiny green magnolia leaves in the background created a certain charm and framed the plantings and decorations we had placed at the edge of our yard. (The photo above was taken last fall.) In a day of work with a crew of hired hands, our neighbor took out all the trees between our fence and his house, leaving only three tall pines, which we fear will also be cut.

All of the trees that were cut were on the neighbor's property. He was within his rights to cut the trees, despite my feeble hints, after the chainsawing began, that we really wished he'd keep the trees. This Tree City USA provides little protection for trees, which add so much to the flavor of a neighborhood. A Facebook post recently complained that the city had cut down three trees, with trunks 3 or 4 feet in diameter, in one block. The city can protect trees in the utility strip next to the curb — or not. But it cannot dictate to property owners what they do with trees on their property.

Perhaps some regulation of tree cutting would be appropriate. A neighbor recently commented that she had not realized what an across-the-street neighbor's cutting of some trees in his yard would mean to her. Those tall trees had shaded her front windows from the afternoon sun. When Hurricane Fran in 1996 took out several trees in our old neighborhood, we discovered how much those trees' shade had meant to us. Suddenly our front rooms were subjected to afternoon glare, even though the fallen trees had not been on our property. Wilson now has only one major street — the 700-800 blocks of Raleigh Road — with a canopy of trees. A couple of decades ago, Tarboro Street between the railroad tracks and Ward Boulevard was canopied, but those beautiful old oaks were cut down when the street was widened. A few residential streets are canopied, but most of these trees are aging and will need to be replaced.

The city requires building permits and demolition permits, why not tree-cutting permits for trees of a certain trunk diameter or height? Even when these trees are on private property, their presence affects nearby properties.

Nothing can be done to replace the neighboring trees we lost, and I'm trying to accept that which I cannot change, but some regulation of tree cutting might save the trees that give neighborhoods the shade and charm that are so precious — and so easily lost.