Until a week ago we had a 30m-plus eucalyptus behind our house. It was a gorgeous thing, obviously much older than I, and I was very emotionally attached to it. Its silvery white trunk glowed on moonlit nights, and if in the morning the sky was red, so was the trunk. Exquisite.
The Landscaper, however, was convinced that at some point the tree would lose interest in standing upright and fall on the house, crushing him as he slept. He quoted numerous incidences of eucalyptus inconsiderately falling over, and being ridiculed as an alarmist did nothing to change his mind. So about a year ago we began to toy with the idea of having it felled.
It's really interesting that when you mention to anyone you're planning to fell a 30m tree that's right beside your house, they'll tell you they, or their best friend, or their neighbour, will do it for a dozen Speight's. Piece of the proverbial, they chortle. Nah, don't need a digger - just a couple of ropes and an axe.
It isn't true, of course, much as you'd like it to be in the face of quotes ranging from $3000 up to the price of a reasonable car. But you can't take risks with something that would reduce your home to a flatpack should somebody not know what they're doing.
Hence the arrival, finally, of The Tree Man. He appeared out of the blue one day, sent by another tree man who had looked at the tree months earlier and declined the opportunity to dispatch it.