A Tree Goes in Manhattan

Disappearance of a guerrilla gardened arboreal baby.

Ephraim, post-July trim to neaten him up and give him a more upright habit. This was as tall and mature as he ever got.

Farewell, Ephraim The Maple. He has disappeared, and I can only presume he lives no more. Hopefully little Ephraim is part of some big compost pile here on earth, and his life force has ascended to some Big Forest In The Sky elsewhere.

The signs were all there from weeks back - Ephraim had caught the eye of someone at the New York City Parks Department and was targeted.

Neighbors tried to save him... When I first saw the little flag and lingered by the tree pit, a woman told me she was there on the day of the assessment and tried to explain that Ephraim was being cared for and tended to, that he wasn't just an eyesore, as the Parks Department employee deemed him. Then, just a few days ago, when I stopped again before Ephraim to contemplate his fate, a man remarked that Ephraim just wouldn't die, despite his ill treatment, that he was a survivor; when I gestured toward the NYC Parks flag and said that might be more than he could overcome, the friendly neighbor man looked straight at me and said, "Well, there seems to be a mistake there," and yanked the plastic flag from the ground that marked him and deposited it in the nearest corner trash can - to my amazement and admiration at his boldness for refusing to accept the decision (when I, his "mother"/planter had already resigned myself to the demise of my arboreal baby; the whole episode has made me query my ability to buck authority if circumstances ever call for true moral conviction, much as I aspire to be such a person). In the end, that kindly act of defiance wasn't enough to save Ephraim, nor allow him to live up to his eponym and be fruitful to spawn future generations (not that urban street trees generally do). His name that I selected so hopefully was a misnomer in hindsight.

His last months were not without challenges. In mid August, someone de-limbed him, again, and rather roughly, at that ...

..., even after I trimmed him in July, hoping to keep him out from underfoot of alternate side parkers and sidewalk pedestrians to protect him from further mutilation.

But with all the abuse, he seemed not destined for life in that tree pit - the more he was decapitated, the lower his branches would grow - poking out at pedestrians and walkers. There never would be a tall central trunk like the one Trey The Maple in front of Moduwa was able to develop - albeit a little lopsided. Trey, now, is my only legacy bearer out in the world.

So on Friday, during work from home lunch, when I walked by to check on Ephraim, there was no sign of my second arboreal baby; the new interloper had already made itself at home...,

... tall and proper, under a fresh bed of mulch. Only the "Please Curb Your Dog" sign...

... that some kind soul had gifted to Ephraim years ago remained as evidence he was once loved, and lived. That, and Ephraim's very own hashtag that will now be retired... #ephraimthemaple.