hurricane stuff
I know I promised pictures, but those can wait.
First of all I want to say deepest prayers and best of all wishes to the people in New Orleans and all of the Gulf Coast who got/are getting hit by Katrina. It didn't really seem real until the weather came up a little more north and hit my own home area. Just green and white swirly patterns on a fake-looking map. But now it is real, and I know it's been real -- more real and more deadly to a lot more people than it has been to me. So good luck, Louisiana. I hope you fare as well as can be expected.
On a more personal front, I've run the gamut of emotions today and I can tell you now that as soon as I'm done typing this, the only thing I want to do is sleep. If the weather wants to kill me, it can do it while I'm unconscious. I'll be much happier that way.
First the top of the roller coaster: no school tomorrow due to weather; no homework due to being off-schedule. Feeling great, top of the world, ditsy and giddy with the freedom; etc etc. Then the first bit of a downward tug: rain basically hypnotises me, makes me sleepy and off-balance. The abrupt lack of grace is not a pretty thing to behold; I become a hibernating bear-person. I mean, it's comfy and dozy, just not a productive state to be in for long periods of time. Then, just recently, the real plummet that goes past zero-g and into nausea: one of the biggest trees in our yard fell down.
It had been suffering from some kind of rot for a while now, but it wasn't really visible -- it looked like a strong, fine tree to the casual observer. One of the staples of one's life; a fixture as seemingly permanent as a bedroom wall, or a roof. Not something you think about losing. But me and Robbie were watching Buffy, normal as could be, when there's this sudden crack and boom outside like a big, slow rifle shot -- and the tree's down. Our old scalybark, gone. It was our own personal squirrel habitat, our provider of shade and annoying mower-breaking hickory nuts; it was ours, love ir or hate it, and it was a living thing. A big, green, growing living thing. And now its roots are sticking in the air and it looks ridiculous instead of majestic. It just seems humiliating and uncalled-for for wind to blow a tree down. Wind, this insubstantial, invisible thing, versus a tree -- solid and tall. It feels weird. And wrong. And also like I should feel less for a tree, because for God's sakes it was just a tree, you know, but still. I loved it the way I always love big trees. It should've lasted.
But the scary bit that I'm stolidly not thinking about is that this scalybark was right smack in the angle between our house, Dad's little office (a separate building), and the road, with one little strip of side-yard in the opening of the U. It fell in the one little strip, in perfect line with the sidewalk. Not even blocking the road. You know, if that tree had fallen in any other direction at all, it would've killed someone or destroyed some property. And I'm not thinking about what would've happened if it had fallen on Mom's computer room, or Dad's office -- where all his home-office equipment is; if we lost him or his office, we'd be dead out of any source of income. Or even, for that matter, if the tree had fallen towards the living room; it would've gotten me and Robbie both. But it didn't. It was almost like it meant to save us. Maybe it did. We loved it as much as any homeowner would love their precious shade-tree; Mom loved it especially, as it was outside her window. Maybe it tried to repay our care and our enjoyment of it with one last gift; life.
I guess it's kind of corny to think so, but I do, deep down. So tomorrow we're going to go thank it. Scalybark's a form of hickory, so we'll see if any of the barbecue places in town want its wood for smoking. And then we'll plant a new tree there. I hope that's enough to thank the universe for our lives.
Tonight's been really weird and surreal and scary. So I'm going to say goodnight, maybe for a while. I'll post again before going to con, and I'm sure the con itself will cheer me up. Having Emily down to visit will, too. So good luck to New Orleans and anywhere else that's been hit, and I hope y'all are safe.
treehugger and unashamed,
-rave
First of all I want to say deepest prayers and best of all wishes to the people in New Orleans and all of the Gulf Coast who got/are getting hit by Katrina. It didn't really seem real until the weather came up a little more north and hit my own home area. Just green and white swirly patterns on a fake-looking map. But now it is real, and I know it's been real -- more real and more deadly to a lot more people than it has been to me. So good luck, Louisiana. I hope you fare as well as can be expected.
On a more personal front, I've run the gamut of emotions today and I can tell you now that as soon as I'm done typing this, the only thing I want to do is sleep. If the weather wants to kill me, it can do it while I'm unconscious. I'll be much happier that way.
First the top of the roller coaster: no school tomorrow due to weather; no homework due to being off-schedule. Feeling great, top of the world, ditsy and giddy with the freedom; etc etc. Then the first bit of a downward tug: rain basically hypnotises me, makes me sleepy and off-balance. The abrupt lack of grace is not a pretty thing to behold; I become a hibernating bear-person. I mean, it's comfy and dozy, just not a productive state to be in for long periods of time. Then, just recently, the real plummet that goes past zero-g and into nausea: one of the biggest trees in our yard fell down.
It had been suffering from some kind of rot for a while now, but it wasn't really visible -- it looked like a strong, fine tree to the casual observer. One of the staples of one's life; a fixture as seemingly permanent as a bedroom wall, or a roof. Not something you think about losing. But me and Robbie were watching Buffy, normal as could be, when there's this sudden crack and boom outside like a big, slow rifle shot -- and the tree's down. Our old scalybark, gone. It was our own personal squirrel habitat, our provider of shade and annoying mower-breaking hickory nuts; it was ours, love ir or hate it, and it was a living thing. A big, green, growing living thing. And now its roots are sticking in the air and it looks ridiculous instead of majestic. It just seems humiliating and uncalled-for for wind to blow a tree down. Wind, this insubstantial, invisible thing, versus a tree -- solid and tall. It feels weird. And wrong. And also like I should feel less for a tree, because for God's sakes it was just a tree, you know, but still. I loved it the way I always love big trees. It should've lasted.
But the scary bit that I'm stolidly not thinking about is that this scalybark was right smack in the angle between our house, Dad's little office (a separate building), and the road, with one little strip of side-yard in the opening of the U. It fell in the one little strip, in perfect line with the sidewalk. Not even blocking the road. You know, if that tree had fallen in any other direction at all, it would've killed someone or destroyed some property. And I'm not thinking about what would've happened if it had fallen on Mom's computer room, or Dad's office -- where all his home-office equipment is; if we lost him or his office, we'd be dead out of any source of income. Or even, for that matter, if the tree had fallen towards the living room; it would've gotten me and Robbie both. But it didn't. It was almost like it meant to save us. Maybe it did. We loved it as much as any homeowner would love their precious shade-tree; Mom loved it especially, as it was outside her window. Maybe it tried to repay our care and our enjoyment of it with one last gift; life.
I guess it's kind of corny to think so, but I do, deep down. So tomorrow we're going to go thank it. Scalybark's a form of hickory, so we'll see if any of the barbecue places in town want its wood for smoking. And then we'll plant a new tree there. I hope that's enough to thank the universe for our lives.
Tonight's been really weird and surreal and scary. So I'm going to say goodnight, maybe for a while. I'll post again before going to con, and I'm sure the con itself will cheer me up. Having Emily down to visit will, too. So good luck to New Orleans and anywhere else that's been hit, and I hope y'all are safe.
treehugger and unashamed,
-rave