It wasn't their fault. Innocent victims of a freak once-in-a-generation snow storm -- scratch that, uh, blizzard -- that paralyzed Baltimore County and most of the State of Maryland, they withstood layer upon layer of limb crushing snow, only to solemnly meet their maker in the coming spring.
The wood chipper. I can almost hear their silent screams pierce the grinder as bark, pulp, and pine needles become mulch for budding young flower buds and promising vegetable gardens.
Wretched beasts of brown decay, yellowing pines, and sun-obliterating spread. Beauty draining monstrosities obliviously trespassing the property line, breeding bone chilling resentment in their wake.
So, which is it? Majestic living, carbon monoxide breathing creatures suffering the slings and arrows of a mad suburban housewife simply for being planted in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or cruel and unforgiving tormentors mocking those who seek to stiffle their advancement, endless branches stretching into the void, cutting off ingress and egress wherever they deign?
One thing is for certain. At last they are gone, but not soon forgotten. A lesson in nature run amuck. Hooray and hallejuah! Once again, I can see the details of our quaint backyard.