Monthly Archives: March 2023

The Creatures Paused To Mourn

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Coming home from work last night was odd. The old oak tree was gone, as well as a small mulberry tree that it destroyed when it fell in Friday night’s storm. They also removed another tree along the driveway that wasn’t especially nice but had been there for my entire life.

In short, home looks almost unrecognizable now.

After writing Ode To An Old Friend Destroyed By Storm this weekend, I witnessed county workers cutting the tree out of the road. It all reminded me of something I read in college. It’s a passage from the classic book “Night Comes To The Cumberlands” by Harry S. Caudill.

Here’s part of the passage:

“When approximately one third of the trunk had been chopped away, the axes were laid aside and a long cross-cut saw was laid to the opposite side. For an hour or two the droning teeth gnawed their way into the vitals of the centuries-old titan. Suddenly, when the unsevered wood was only inches thick, the dying monster swayed and crashed to the earth. Its descent was terrific, its ancient branches tearing a mighty swath through lesser timber on the hillside below. The mountains and valleys echoed and re-echoed the thunder of its fall. Wild creatures fled the area in fright; then, a moment later, the thunder was replaced by a curious stillness as though the forest and all its creatures had paused to mourn the passing of one of its patriarchs.”

If you’re a regular reader here and this sounds familiar, I once referenced this passage in another story.

While the tree’s demise was caused by nature rather than humans, the imagery of the creatures of the forest pausing “to mourn the passing of one of its patriarchs” seemed fitting. The forest fell quiet just before the chainsaws buzzed and it remained quiet for a while after.

And so ends the story of our friend, the grandfatherly old tree who gave shelter and beauty to all who sought it.

There’s an adage that says “blessed are those who plant trees under whose shade they will never sit.”

I think it’s time to plant some trees.

Staying Warm When The Power Goes Out

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My new survival strategy for cold weather power outages is made possible by my parents.

They thought my request for a pop-up tent was a little odd given that I don’t camp. But they bought me one for Christmas this year and it was the best thing ever.

When this bad boy is zipped up, body heat keeps it nice and warm. It was a little cooler than it could have been because I had to leave the door unzipped enough for Scout to get out to his litter box. All the same, it was toasty compared to the rest of the house this weekend.

You can set it up on the floor or on your bed. I thoroughly enjoyed building a little nest for us to stay comfy and to have enough light for late night reading. It was so comfy I really wanted to curl up in there for an afternoon nap yesterday but there was no opportunity.

So if you live in a cold climate and worry about power outages, a pop-up tent is a great way to go. It fits in a small bag that’s easy to store and can be put together even by one person.

Ode To An Old Friend Destroyed By Storm

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Friday night’s storm took out a tree along my parents’ driveway. It fell across the road, splintering an electric pole and downing the nearby power lines and transformer.

My dad sat in the truck in their driveway Friday night, shining headlights on the tree until the county came to put up road closed signs. People drive too fast on our country road and he feared someone would hit it in the darkness.

There are now road closed signs but people are just driving past the signs only to slam on the brakes when they get to the tree. A kid on a dirt bike keeps riding up to it, seemingly to gather enough courage to drive through. He hasn’t done it yet but I wouldn’t doubt that someone will try before this is all over.

The power company says to stay back fifty feet but they have not been out to even look at the situation yet. At one point, they had over 15,000 customers without power so the small amount of darkened houses out my way probably aren’t a priority.

And so we wait.

I tell you that to say this.

That tree isn’t just a tree. It feels like we have lost a member of the family. Seeing it splayed out across the road for strangers to gawk at feels so undignified. He once stood so tall but his bare branches and exposed roots seem to shrivel in shame with each passing hour.

This mighty oak was like a kindly grandfather who provided habitat for any number of little creatures. Deer crossing the road would hesitate here, taking shelter and sniffing the air before bounding off on their way. Squirrels scurried about, teasing the dog and giving chase to each other up and down that large trunk. This grandfather tree gave shade on a hot summer day and beautified the landscape every day he lived.

We don’t know his age but he was tall and big around. My dad recalls seeing this tree in very old pictures. The rings will no doubt tell a story.

He was pulled out by the roots, leaving a large hole in the earth and a gaping hole in the landscape. This tree was a symbol of home and a friend to many. He will be missed by all who knew him.

I have made numerous photos of this tree over the years but I really like this one from last February. On this day, like many others, he presided over a world blanketed in snow and shining like diamonds. Look at the long shadow he cast.

It’s hard to believe that this view is no more.

I Haven’t Blown Away Yet

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I’m writing this at 7:16 pm on Friday night. That proverbial March lion is roaring tonight as a severe thunderstorm and high winds shake the house and rattle the windows.

The power is out and I’m tired so I gave Scout his medicine and we are curled up in bed. I will read until sleep finds me or till the flashlight battery dies.

… or until the house gets blown off the foundation. All three seem likely at this point.

This front is supposed to move through in the next half hour or so. The weatherman on tv earlier said this and gave people some tips for surviving a thunderstorm. One of his suggestions was keeping both hands on the steering wheel if you’re out driving. Do they teach nothing in driver’s ed these days? That just seems like common sense.

Anyway, I’m pretty happy making lemons into lemonade and enjoying some forced rest. Sometimes that’s the only way to get me to do it.

Here’s hoping we aren’t all flooded in this weekend and here’s wishing safety to all those linemen who have to go out in dangerous conditions to keep us all with electricity.

Have a good weekend, friends.

A Trip To The Vet

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Scout went to the vet this week. Neither of us were especially thrilled but it was necessary.

He’s mostly fine but we came home with drops for his ears, pills to crush up in his food and a probiotic to squirt in his mouth. To put it mildly, it’s going to be a long twelve days for us both.

Sigh.

It’s hard when our pets are sick because they can’t tell us what’s wrong. In fact, we don’t always know there’s a problem until their symptoms worsen. He did find ways to communicate his dissatisfaction at being stuffed in a carrier, forced to ride in a car and then carted into a strange place to be prodded by strangers.

Guys, he sang the song of his people the entire way and lost a whisker through this ordeal.

On the way home, I stopped by a neighborhood drive-thru for a milkshake. He had calmed down by then but you should have seen the look he gave me when I ordered that shake. People think animals don’t understand what’s going on but he gave me a look of disgust as though to say “you stopped for ice cream? Take me home!”

So we went home to the tuna I promised him. It was laced with medicine and I managed to get the other stuff in him too.

It wasn’t good but I guess it could have been worse. We are currently in an uncomfortable place where he sniffs his food carefully in case I tried to poison him with that nasty medicine. He also keeps a wide berth when we are near each other.

Oh, and in case you ever need to know, cats can indeed close their ears. Wish me luck with those ear drops.

In Like A Lamb

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Appalachian people hold closely the old wive’s tale that when March comes in like a lion it will go out like a lamb. So if the weather is bad on the first, it should be mild on the 31st. Here in southern Ohio, March arrived gentle as a newborn lamb so we assume that the month will go roaring out.

Another superstition tells us that it will snow three times on the forsythia bloom.Well, it was 75 degrees and sunny for the forsythia bloom yesterday. The evening ended with a thunderstorm. No snow in sight.

Will we see snow this month? Will this fool’s spring succumb to cold and snow when the real spring should be arriving?

Probably so and I’m sorry for that. As much as I enjoy winter with its cold and snow, I’m always ready for spring by early March. Anything different feels like regression and that sounds terrible.