There are trees in Manhattan that nobody sees from the street — a honey locust in a courtyard off a side entrance, a plane tree crowding a fifth-floor window, a backyard maple hemmed in by fences on all four sides. Manhattan Tree Care goes to those, starting early while the block is still parked in, working on rope because there is nowhere on the ground to drop anything. Tree trimming here means clearance from windows, cornices and wires; pruning means holding a young tree's shape while it grows in a space the size of a room. When a nor'easter comes up the island and leaves a split limb on a fire escape, storm damage cleanup is measured in hours, not days. Tree removal is the last thing tried and the slowest to do: piece by piece, lowered down, carried out, and the yard left swept behind it.