My lovely, messy cottonwood tree that stood near the Forks Forum office is no longer part of the landscape. Amid ongoing construction and changes to the parking lot area, the decision to remove the tree was made, marking the end of an era for a natural icon that had quietly witnessed decades of life in Forks. Trees have always been their own worst enemy …the are messy, they outgrow where they were planted and then …they have to go.

This cottonwood, estimated to be around 80 years old with a trunk diameter of 30 inches, was a towering presence. Cottonwoods, known for their rapid growth, often reach heights of 80–100 feet, with a lifespan of up to 120 years. Though messy at times, the tree held a special place in the hearts of those who worked nearby (me).

For me, the tree symbolized the seasons: its leaves danced in the wind, its branches welcomed birds, and one time even raccoons, and its white, fluffy seeds floated through the air in spring, appearing to be snowing. In autumn, its swirling leaves created a happy cascade down the street.

Removing the tree was no small task. Kenny Gale of Forks expertly climbed and felled the towering giant (see photo front page), which weighed nearly seven tons. However, the job wasn’t finished once the wood was cleared. The tree’s unusually deep and extensive root system proved a challenge—larger than typically expected for a cottonwood. A 40,000-pound excavator completed the process of removing the stump.

With the trees’s age estimate the tree would have been planted during WWII. Little houses used to line Forks’ Mainstreet in this area the tree grew and also an old logging garage sat nearby before the current building was constructed and remodeled.

The tree would have seen the Great Forks Fire and locals evacuating south, and snow and wind storms. It would have also seen my first little store that was here in 1987. In an aerial photo from a 1956 FHS annual I think I can almost see its younger version of itself.

While its absence leaves a noticeable gap in the landscape, the tree’s legacy remains. It was a silent companion to countless moments in the community’s history, and though it is gone, its memory will live on in the stories and seasons it shared with me and Forks.

Christi Baron, Editor