Death of a Tree | Benjamin Swett
[ad_1] Some years ago I published a book called New York City of Trees. On facing pages of photographs and text, it presented portraits of fifty-five trees in the city’s five boroughs. One was of a Callery pear in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan. A mid-sized tree covered in white blossoms each spring, glossy green leaves in the summer, and a mass of orange-yellow leaves in the fall, the species is a familiar sight in cities across the US. At the time of my book’s publication it was the second most widely planted species in Manhattan, after the honey locust. Growing on the east side of Eleventh Avenue between 25th and 26th Streets, this particular tree stood out for the way its rounded crown, framed by the brick building behind it, glowed in a shaft of late afternoon sun filtered between a post office building and a sanitation depot across the street. I first saw it while walking with my wife, Katherine, in late April 2002, and in that aura of sun the leaves shone …