A quick audit revealed fingers still intact. Here is the tree a week before the massacre, and earlier today, with the ninja counting rings. Turns out the tree was only five years my senior … so no bristlecone pine, then.
Weren’t kidding! Done the first load of god-knows-how-many … and the local municipal tip only accepts one of these little wagons per address per day. Arrgh!
It is not a close relative of the syringa - different family.
Anyway, you’ll miss the fragrance of the tree’s blossoms in spring (just about the only good thing about syringas!)The solution to this is to plant some sage in its place: