I’m on a break. I’ve been outside with my neighbors Dick Pratt and David Frevert, sawing away at a huge tree that fell with an authentically scary crash just outside my house. It barely missed the living room. Where I was standing.
La Kid, watching a film in her bedroom at the time, claims she heard nothing. The Pratts, four houses down and the owners of the woods where the tree stood, report having heard it quite clearly.
All of our work is overlooked by The Deer Who Are Always Here.
Neighbors wander by and gawk. Pick up a saw, people!
There’s sawing, and there’s dragging limbs and leaves out to the street for the town maintenance truck to haul. Lots of discussion among us as to whether this humongous amount of tree will overwhelm the town’s capacity…
Oh – I take it back. I just glanced out the window, and a woman I don’t even recognize has parked her dog in my garden and taken up the work with Dick.
I’m heading back out there now – cranberry juice for the workers, water for the dog.
