Two years ago, a relatively small tree fell in the back yard while we were out.
Last year, a real monstrosity of a tree was ripped up by a wind storm, twisted around, and deposited all over our front yard.
This morning, I heard an odd crackling noise, looked out the window and saw this:
My first thought? “Oh, crap.” My second thought? “Thank God that didn’t happen 20 minutes earlier.” The boys and I had been standing in that very spot, waiting to cross the street, earlier in the morning. We stand there a lot – at least twice a day.
So, once again, my driveway was covered in tree guts, and my exit route cut off. As an added bonus, most of the neighborhood’s electricity was out, too. What can I say? We like to spread the fun around.
The next six hours involved a parade of trucks, starting with the electric company.
Followed by the public works department.
And the electric company again.
Then the environmental cleanup group (the broken transformer had been leaking oil).
And finally, the phone company.
Honestly, I’m impressed how quickly it was all taken care of. Now, if we could just avoid any more falling tree situations in this yard, I’d be a really happy camper. I love living among these big old trees, but I can’t help but wonder if they have it in for us. I’m about this close to having them all chopped down before they can succeed in their conspiracy to inflict bodily harm!