Sitting in front of the monitor, we fast-forwarded through the days of our vacation, watching as sunlight and shadow danced across the yard, unaware of the devastation to come. And then, on one particular morning, the footage revealed something that sent shivers down our spines.
A group of men, clad in green utility uniforms, appeared. They moved with a practiced efficiency, as if this was just another job to them. There was no indication of any authority, no flashing lights or badges, just a team working swiftly. Their equipment buzzed and whirred, drowning out the serene ambient sounds of our garden. Within hours, the tree was reduced to segments, loaded onto trucks, and driven away.
We watched in disbelief as the men carried out their task with precision, seemingly oblivious to the life they were extinguishing. It was as if they were handling nothing more than lumber, not a living, breathing entity that had stood for centuries.
