Last week, the angry wind hammered away at the little blue house at the end of the road. It shook the windows, knocked on doors, and tormented the new shingles on the roof. Bits of leaves and other lawn debris clung to her bright blue dress.
That wicked wind huffed and puffed to no avail; she still stands!
One of this old home's white aluminum down spouts danced across the landscape, like a wild child jumping on the opportunity to escape from gutter life, I reckon.
I worried about trees and/or large limbs falling. My main concern focused on the remaining part of, a, once, beautiful majestic catalpa tree standing fifty feet high or more, between the back garage and the utility building. The tree that once consisted of two sizable trunks growing from a crown that fed off of a common root system lost ground last year. One side died, and hit the dust, peacefully.
The other portion of the tree lost its foliage, slender bean pod shells and moderately long life, shortly thereafter. Almost everything that habituated it moved out earlier.
We talked about the danger of it falling on one or both of us, pets the same, and avoided walking beneath it.
We moved the clothesline a couple of months ago and last Monday we cut off some of the limbs of another Catalpa that could compromise a clean falls. The tall healthy maple, nearby, hopefully, would be spared of damage.
During her dimming days, I often laid awake at night working up a storm toward cleaning up the mess that was sure to happen. I even dreamed it fell on me and no one could hear my call for help. I was mashed flat as a fritter. When I tried to escape from my excruciating pain and, dug out from under that dilemma that befell me, like a desperate coon in a steel trap. I left my bloody chewed up leg and dirty foot behind.
Wednesday, the object of my childhood affection did its utmost to fight off the wicked wind that sailed through its shivering branches. The heartless force pushed the shallow roots set in soggy soil it to the limits and beyond.
I knew on that day, under those conditions our rotting tree would fall. I adjusted the angle of the slatted blind, at the east window of the kitchen. I knew the old shade tree, with one leg already in the grave was about to take a nose dive.
Truth is I kept a close eye on the naked lady, stripped of her bark and her pride and other side.
This yard peep moved the ironing board in and worked in view of the tree. Then day played out and I sort of let go of my front row window seat.
"Who cares," I spouted. If it hadn't been for the tree's coarse very open growth habit, I would not have had to worry about her conjoined twin hovering over my house so many years. I wouldn't have been picking up striped worms or wet, less than showy white blooms, from the back and front porch carpets, and hereabouts".
After the evening meal, I started the dishes. I could see strong movement of the branches of the cedars row outside of the window above the sink. The wind had picked up again. Then I heard the thud that rocked my world. Oh yes, I missed the action.
Alas, the catalpa tree fell and "the woodpecker shares its death."
The decades old landmark went to be with her sister, to a better place. Soon she will be split up one more time and prepared for cremation.
All of the bad things that I said about her, in her final hours; I, now regret! She left behind a lot of good memories. "The old girl was just a little rough around the edges like you Mary Lou." I wonder what Paul Baby meant when he told me that?
Gray, the shy rescued feral cat returned to his safe haven, Thursday morning, after a couple of days and nights outing. He came dragging up the walk, expecting to find a saucer of sweet milk.
The old fellow stopped short when he saw that large lifeless tree sprawled out across his favorite potting spot. That feline is a little rough around the edges, also, but he sure is smart! After he finished the milk, the maze was a piece of cake.
Trek came out of hiding and they tried out the over-sized catwalk that the trunk provides.
Gee, I could use a dull moment!
I can be reached at 446-4852 or drop me a line to 613 N. Elm St., Brazil, IN or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.