It all happened so routinely that I never got excited. I sleepily got up and was immersed in a hot bath and was thinking about getting out and toweling off when Debbie leaned in the bathroom door and said good morning. She mentioned that it was windy out, but I could barely hear it. Just then there was a loud crash. My first thought was that it was a bookcase that had fallen over because after a loud thud there was a moment of tinkling sounds. Debbie walked down the hall to check it out. And then yelled something like, “There’s a tree in our living room.”
“What?” … “There’s a tree in our living room!” I got up grabbed a towel and went to look. Well, it wasn’t a whole tree only a part of a tree.
I take a photo. Almost immediately there is a guy at the door and all I have on is a towel I’m holding. Anyway, he asks if we would like the branches pulled away from the front door so we could get out.
This neighbor was watching the trees swinging from across the park, when he saw our tree come down. He immediately hurried over. We got out and viewed the cause of our problems. Next door theirs were worse.
Emergency crews were on standby because of the expected high winds and were at our place within the hour.
What were we to do but watch? I didn’t even get excited in the least; after all, what can one do when there’s a couple tons of tree sitting in and on your house? Just watch those with the equipment and skill to deal with such things and enjoy the spectacle.
Just before I got into that hot bath we were sleeping just behind those windows. Note the ripped off limbs on the still standing tree behind the camper trailer. That tree may have saved our lives had we been in bed a few minutes longer by deflecting the Ponderosa about two feet as it fell. Why shouldn’t we be happy?
A few minutes after that happy portrait our Ponderosa in the back yard fell. Luckily it went into our neighbors’ nearly empty back yard and only destroyed fences at either end of the yard.
Note that just over the fence two trees fell, one going right through the middle of the house. The retired lady who owns the house was sleeping just inside the visible window and was unhurt.
As I write this post I am sitting fifteen feet from the last of the three stooges. We named our Ponderosa trees for Larry, Curly and Moe. Only Moe survives and his roots go under my desk. Sad to say, after this experience Moe is too close for comfort. He was making the walls squeak during the wind, so even if he fell away from where I am sitting now, I would be sitting in a hole.
I loved those trees, but my life force must be for my own survival.