Remember a few nights ago when I was all, “Oh my GAH! The wind! THE WIND, I tell you! It is blowing and gusting with tremendous ferocity, and I fear it shall cause a tree to shatter my tiny little cube of a home into a thousand even tinier little toothpicks!” And everyone was all, “Dude, it’s wind. Please shut up. You are such a pussy.” And, OK, maybe I am such a pussy, but that doesn’t change the fact that I had reason to be more neurotic and anxiety-stricken than usual … because Mother Nature put the smackdown on my neighborhood.
When the wind finally died down shortly after midnight, and my heart rate had returned to something normal enough that sleep was possible, I decided to head to bed … but first, I gazed out the front window and discovered that the entire top half of a tree directly in front of my next-door neighbor’s house had snapped off and fallen across the width of our street, taking down with it some apparently non-essential lines (as, miraculously, both the power and broadband services were uninterrupted). And so outside I trudged with my trusty camera to capture the shot shown above … because that’s the kind of
nutjob dedicated blogger I am.
This here is the aftermath, as captured the following morning:
My house isn’t the big one with the lovely porch; it’s the one to the left, which looks like the big one’s tool shed. All the more reason to fear falling trees.