CHASING DOWN THE MUSE: What about the ‘right to a view’?

It is the scent of the leaves, pungent and sweet, that I most remember. My 8-year-old mind said that the trees were “very tall and smelled like the earth.” Dad said they were “messy.” Mom taught me to pronounce their tricky name.

The grove of eucalyptus trees that surrounded our house on Ledroit Lane fascinated me. I had never seen these types of trees. We had recently moved from Long Beach to a 50-year-old house spread out over acres on a hilltop ledge. The trees framed an expansive view of the sea.

In the mornings, coastal fog would deposit heavy drops of dew on the narrow pointed leaves. The water would absorb the fragrance and fall to the ground. The entire carpet of refuse — branch limbs, spent bark, seed pods and leaves — would become an outdoor potpourri dish.

I loved the trees and was sad when we moved away from them. Dad had purchased five acres on the top of Fayette Place and built a lovely Cape Cod-style home on a rather desolate piece of scrub-covered land. In hopes of a quick fix, Dad began his own Johnny Appleseed campaign, planting countless eucalyptus on the tall slope below the house. He chose the tree primarily because, with sufficient water, it has a rapid growth curve.

It was a move he would later regret when the trees smothered the lovely panoramic ocean view that the house had once commanded. Legions of chainsaw carting gardeners saw to the demise of more than two-thirds of what he had planted. Trees gone — view restored.

Eucalyptus trees have deep roots in California’s history.

The first successful planting was likely in San Francisco. W.C. Walker obtained seeds of several species in 1853. By the 1870s, the tree was planted on thousands of acres. One California newspaper suggested that “For a person who has some capital and is willing to wait for returns, there is a pretty chance to make a fortune in the growing of gum trees.”

Even shipbuilders liked their chops, but the California blue gum split and curled, unlike the old-growth trees used by the Australians.

The tree was touted for its qualities of shade, as fuel, construction wood, and its medicinal value. Eucalyptus oil, extracted from the leaves, was said to be an anti-spasmodic, an expectorant, stimulant, deodorant and antiseptic. At one point, the healing claims of the tree extended to malaria, insomnia, fevers, bladder infections, dysentery, diphtheria, tuberculosis and venereal disease.

When the eucalyptus railroad tie experiment ended in failure, enthusiasm for the tree cooled. In recent times, ecologists have called the tree “an invasive pest that kills native vegetation and threatens biodiversity. The ‘wonder tree’ of California’s 19th century has become ‘America’s largest weed.’”

Which brings me to my neighborhood and likely those of other Lagunans. Like most in town, I live on the slope of a hill. I have uphill neighbors and downhill neighbors. In the best of worlds, we work out our tree/view issues with debate, arguments and compromise. That can, and should, work well with those in close proximity, but what about those more distant?

Before our long ago El Niño year, I had a panoramic view of the sand and waves at Main Beach and Catalina in the distance.

I could see the historic Hotel Laguna as well as the lifeguard tower. That is no longer the case.

If I could see through the trees in close proximity (yes, there is “hedge” contention here), I might be able to see the high school sports fields. But those overgrown specimens aside, there are trees below the high school that also block my views. This “grove” lies in the proximity of El Bosque, Short and Wilson streets, a substantial distance both in horizontal and vertical feet.

The trees, quite simply, are well more than 90 feet tall.

But it is not merely these trees — and their owners — who impose their “tree will.” Scattered among and between all streets leading to the sea, are equally towering specimens.

I know the city does not have a tree ordinance, but in recent years, the “right to a view” has become a rather heated issue for any and all development within the city. Isn’t it time we started to review the “taking of a view” by those who choose to plant and nurture monster trees? And in the same conversation, maybe we could establish guidelines for those whose vistas — and property values — are impacted by a lack of ordinance and/or caring by those who feel the right to grow whatever and wherever they choose.

CATHARINE COOPER can be reached at ccooper@cooperdesign.net