Trees

There is a wonderful grove of trees on the west side of Harris Hall; the front side of the building.  When we first started the project, I was extremely protective of the trees, instructing contractors to make awkward maneuvers to avoid damaging them or their roots.  It wasn’t long, however, before quite a number of them had to be removed to make way for new chilled water and steam piping.  And then there was the steam vault.  Another couple of trees gave up their places.  Finally, in June, the reality of the two additions and the earth retention system presented itself:  Yet more trees had to go.  It was painful, particularly for me, since I hate to remove any vegetation at all.  To wit:  When my wife and I built our cabin in Door County, we spent hours tagging and untagging trees with the goal of removing as few trees as possible and only the smallest ones.  Each one was devastating loss, taken to create what is now an oddly meandering driveway.  Fast forward to Harris Hall, and I was playing the same game with Dan Weese.  Tagging trees and untagging trees, hoping to save one or two.  In the end, a large number of trees had to go.  With all the infrastructure work and the additions, there was no way around it.  It was staggering at the time.

As we examined each tree, we began finding fault with them (where we could), to assuage our guilt.  “This one has barely any leaves anyway.”   “Now that the larger one is gone, this scrawny thing looks silly.”  “This isn’t is a tree at all; is an overgrown bush!”  “This thing will fall over anyway (see photo below), when we excavate for the chilled water line (which was true)”

Mid-spring, high winds felled a large branch of a grand old elm on the east side of the building.  The old elm, a spectacular shade tree, was sick (Dutch Elm Disease) and had to come down as well.  Then there was the small forest of pines at the southeast corner, between Harris and West Fairchild.  Installing earth retention demanded that at least half of the trees be removed.  The remaining few would look like orphans. Eventually, we accepted the fact that a new and better landscape plan will be planted next year.  Nevertheless, we lament their loss.