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realexplodingcatMy sources indicate that the forest growing in the undeveloped land behind my house is conspiring against my neighbors and I. Last week, as the rose-red fingers of dawn stretched across the sky, we still slept. However, a tree in the neighbor's yard to the left of my house was awake and scheming. This tree, not known for its subtlety, attempted to bludgeon my neighbors house with one of its heavy and precariously long limbs while nobody was looking, but the blow was uncoordinated and without enough strength behind it. My neighbor's roof still lives.
Yesterday, under cover of a tremendous storm, another tree planned an attack on the house to the right of mine. The timing, perfect. The execution needed a little work. I've never seen a storm like the one that blew through yesterday afternoon. The wind, blowing in sustained gusts of nearly 60mph, obliterated the heavy rain into a thick mist through which I could not see. Looking out my windows, I began to think my house was a foundering ship adrift in a giant squall cooked up by the mighty Poseidon. The tree, noticing how the storm distracted us, attempted a hasty running leap at my neighbor's house. This tree, however, forgot that trees don't run. While it destroyed the fence at the rear of the yard and proved too heavy for the clothesline to support, the tree could not reach the house. Now it lies like a hero on the battle field, cut down in the prime of life by joyous combat. I look out the window and it still lies there on the ground. It may have one last surge left in it, like the last shocking attack of the dying killer in a suspense movie.
So far, the trees have not done much damage to our properties. If they continue to attack with such reckless emotion, I suspect they will continue to make mistakes and fail at their advances on our yards. However, it's the strong silent tree I worry about. The Odysseus of trees, the master of scheming tactics. He's biding his time. Making a slow and accurate plan, I fear. It will be his quiet rage that gets one of our houses, instead of the Achilles-like rage of the impatient trees already fallen.
Yesterday, under cover of a tremendous storm, another tree planned an attack on the house to the right of mine. The timing, perfect. The execution needed a little work. I've never seen a storm like the one that blew through yesterday afternoon. The wind, blowing in sustained gusts of nearly 60mph, obliterated the heavy rain into a thick mist through which I could not see. Looking out my windows, I began to think my house was a foundering ship adrift in a giant squall cooked up by the mighty Poseidon. The tree, noticing how the storm distracted us, attempted a hasty running leap at my neighbor's house. This tree, however, forgot that trees don't run. While it destroyed the fence at the rear of the yard and proved too heavy for the clothesline to support, the tree could not reach the house. Now it lies like a hero on the battle field, cut down in the prime of life by joyous combat. I look out the window and it still lies there on the ground. It may have one last surge left in it, like the last shocking attack of the dying killer in a suspense movie.
So far, the trees have not done much damage to our properties. If they continue to attack with such reckless emotion, I suspect they will continue to make mistakes and fail at their advances on our yards. However, it's the strong silent tree I worry about. The Odysseus of trees, the master of scheming tactics. He's biding his time. Making a slow and accurate plan, I fear. It will be his quiet rage that gets one of our houses, instead of the Achilles-like rage of the impatient trees already fallen.
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Date: 2005-07-06 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2005-08-04 02:07 pm (UTC)