I live in an urban neighborhood of brick homes built between 1910 and 1940, some with trees that have been growing for 90 years. Each year a few of them die. Some of the neighbors, in an effort to prolong their enjoyment of these no longer nutritionally vital but still sturdy trunks, have turned them into trunk art. There currently are about 10 in the area but these two are my favorites. They each are uniquely symbolic of the families who own them.