We have this annoying tree near the corner of our house. I think it might be a Hawthorn Tree, but I don’t know for sure. What I do know is this tree is trying to take over the world, or at least our back yard, which is a good part of the world to us.
This tree is evil. It runs its woody little finger along the boys’ bedroom window at night to convince them Freddy Krueger is coming for them in the dark. If you attempt to prune it, it will pull a knife on you. Its thorns are three inches long and they are expert at locating any human flesh within reach.
The tree thrives in wet, dry, cold, hot, seasonable, and unseasonable weather. It has been laid on its side by ice and bounced back without a groan. Three other trees in our yard have been killed by disease or insects in recent years. This tree hasn’t so much as sneezed. It laughs at the weakness of the other trees.
Laid on its side by ice, but the ice couldn’t finish the job.
Some believe Hawthorn branches were selected to make Christ’s crown of thorns. I don’t buy this. I think the branches volunteered. Folklore says it’s berries can treat high blood pressure, which is exactly what the rest of the tree will give you when you try to mow around it.
Last Fall, as the tree made its final attempt of the year to mug me, I vowed I would give it a respectable haircut in the spring, before it could conceal its armaments behind a canopy of leaves. Last week, I made good my promise.
With chainsaw, loppers, ladder, and my best helper (Big Man, a.k.a. “I can help you!”), I took the offensive. The tree put up a stiff fight. As I hacked away at the big branch touching the house, there was some question as to which of us would lose a limb to the saw, but the human skill of running from danger prevailed. The fruits of my victory were a lawn full of dismembered, prickly branches and a thorn tip lodged in my thigh.
My best helper sizes up the opponent.
It rained for several days after, and I was still limping a bit, so it took a week for me to get back to the lawn full of downed branches. My best helper was napping at the time, so that probably saved me a good half hour of extra work. The thorns were many, and sharp, even in death. About two hours after the cleanup was done, I pulled the final fragment out of my heel – the last desperate thrust from a defeated foe.
By June I will be kicking myself for not cutting more.
I hope this miscreant tree has been chastised enough to learn its lesson about running amok. It should be mindful that next spring is just one short year away, and next time I might not stop at taking a few limbs, now that I have a taste for blood.
Snoozing on the Sofa 
Doesn’t pruning them make them grow bigger and stronger? It sounds to me like you might need full body armor to deal with this Freddy Kruger tree.
Hope your heel and thigh heal. Have a scotch for the pain. Maybe 2..
Maybe I’ll just make it into my favorite tree. Then it’s sure to die on its own.
Because reverse psychology always works.
I’ll really have to sell it.
Ha! Good luck!
Some plants seem to think pruning is an act of love. It just encourages them to get thicker and bigger!
If that’s the case, there’s plenty more love coming.
Like a mustache, this tree, once shaven, may grow back thicker. Know a barber?
For this tree, I may prefer the type of hair stylist Henry VIII sent his wives to.
LOL That’s what I would call… a real close shave. 😀
When it comes to glorified pricker bushes, those are the best kind.
No doubt, those would be the ones bathed in rays of heavenly light from above. No wonder they’re glorified. 😀
Hi, if anything, it might be backwards, mustache and shaved hair in general is often compared, but it doesn’t directly stimulate hair like cutting branches of a tree. 🙂
Firstly you made me laugh cause I KNOW what thorns do to flesh. Your storytelling ROCKS! Second of all, you did an outstanding job pruning that tree, Scott. I mean it. And your helper … well now how much more adorable can you get? You are a rich man, dear friend, even if you got stabbed. My Roses draw blood every year from me. Some years I’m tempted just to dig them up and put SIMPLE plants in that do not prick, stab, and are not temperamental. But I love those darn flowers so much …. What’s a woman to do? 🙂 ❤
Roses have some redeeming qualities to make up for the thorns. This tree, I’m not so sure about.
Huh. Perhaps some day you’ll find one. 🙂
Maybe the berries are secretly super yummy.
I LOVE this post! And I think I’m in love with your evil tree. I have a pricker-filled tree, but it hides behind my garage and I ignore it most of the time. I probably ought to do something about it, though, because it pokes over into the neighbors’ yard and they have kids. Alas, I have no adorable helper.
Your adorable husband won’t help?
Hard to say. It will depend on what he’s doing when I ask him!
Shame on you for trying to kill something which is obviously a female tree.
Not kill, just tame: futile either way.
You actually trying to tame a female?
Are you high?
A man can dream.