Rachel Ranft steers a mud-splattered white pickup slowly along River Road, a narrow strip of asphalt a few feet above the now-placid Blanco River in Wimberley, Texas. She pulls up next to a towering bald cypress, a type of conifer native to central Texas that grows along creeks or near springs. This one measures about 100 feet high and 6 feet around. A tangle of debris wraps its trunk like a fibrous scarf, and rough bark dangles off it in long strips, the wood beneath smooth and pale. An equally large tree lies on the ground beside it, roots and all ripped out of the ground, as if it were a weed plucked by an avid gardener.

Thousands of trees along the river recently suffered similar fates, victims of not only a flash flood but also the human penchant for manicured landscapes… Read full story from Newsweek