Things That Go Bump in the Night
Around 3:00 this morning, we woke to a horrendous crash. Next we heard sharp ticks of hail hitting the metal roof of the garage. Then everything went dark, except for the bright flashes of lightening that illuminated the windows.
I found my way in the dark to the kerosene lamp and the propane lighter and left the lighted lamp on the dining room table. When I got back to bed I kept wondering whether we should be taking refuge in the basement. The roar on the garage roof kept getting louder, or was it the roar of the wind? I couldn't tell, and none of the reporting/warning systems we're used to depending on worked without electricity. We ended up staying put.
This morning we saw the cause of the crash. A huge branch from the 60-year-old Chinese elm north of the house had twisted off and taken the meter pole down with it onto the garage roof. Actually, the base of the branch was resting on the ground well away from the base of the tree, but it still draped itself across the roof slope all the way to the peak. Something about this is strange since the branch actually grew angled well away from the house--almost as if there was something other than a straight-line wind carrying it.
Hiromi had an early appointment in town and Grant had to go to work, so I called the power company.
Doug, the lineman, came this morning and offered to turn off the power so someone could work on removing the pole and the tree. By that time we had had power for a number of hours, and I wasn't eager to have it shut of with no idea when it might be restored. He ended up leaving his card and phone number so that we could call whenever we were ready to tackle the mess. I called Dad then and he must have called several other people.
Lowell and Ollie came to our rescue this morning and dragged the tree off the roof with the help of the tractor, the bale spear, and a chain. "We got into the vinca, I'm afraid," Lowell said afterward. I didn't go look. The pole was still not righted, and the power line sagged low enough in the front yard that it would have caught me on the forehead if I had walked into it.
This evening they came back, along with Dad, and then Doug showed up. Grant joined the effort. Between the five of them, they got the meter pole off the roof and got it temporarily reset. The power was off while they were doing this, but it came back on during supper.
Dad and Ollie marveled at Doug having been able to get his behemoth of a truck between the garage and the nearby trees to get his cherry picker close enough to do the necessary work. "Ich glab eyah hat die bluma fasaaht," (I think he ruined the flowers.) I heard Ollie say. I peeked and saw that indeed the wheels of the truck had tracked right through between the garage wall and the railroad tie that marked the boundary of the flower bed. I haven't looked at the damage since the truck left.
I wish it weren't like this. Heroes who swoop in to perform their dramatic deliverances leave damage along with the deliverance. That's part of living in an imperfect world, and I won't get hung up on the damage if I focus on the kindness and competence of those who came to our rescue.
Last night's storm was a complete surprise. Usually we have ample warning. The hail boards Hiromi made to put on top of the tomato cages in case of weather like this were all hanging on the fence from specially-made wire hooks. This morning some of them were twisted violently. When another round of rain threatened this forenoon, I went out and put them all in place. This way they'll be where they belong if the severe weather predicted for late tomorrow afternoon materializes. With highs in the upper 90's and a cold front coming through around 5:00, I won't be surprised if the clash of contrasting temperatures causes turbulence. I already have plans to be in a safe place when that happens.
I found my way in the dark to the kerosene lamp and the propane lighter and left the lighted lamp on the dining room table. When I got back to bed I kept wondering whether we should be taking refuge in the basement. The roar on the garage roof kept getting louder, or was it the roar of the wind? I couldn't tell, and none of the reporting/warning systems we're used to depending on worked without electricity. We ended up staying put.
This morning we saw the cause of the crash. A huge branch from the 60-year-old Chinese elm north of the house had twisted off and taken the meter pole down with it onto the garage roof. Actually, the base of the branch was resting on the ground well away from the base of the tree, but it still draped itself across the roof slope all the way to the peak. Something about this is strange since the branch actually grew angled well away from the house--almost as if there was something other than a straight-line wind carrying it.
Hiromi had an early appointment in town and Grant had to go to work, so I called the power company.
Doug, the lineman, came this morning and offered to turn off the power so someone could work on removing the pole and the tree. By that time we had had power for a number of hours, and I wasn't eager to have it shut of with no idea when it might be restored. He ended up leaving his card and phone number so that we could call whenever we were ready to tackle the mess. I called Dad then and he must have called several other people.
Lowell and Ollie came to our rescue this morning and dragged the tree off the roof with the help of the tractor, the bale spear, and a chain. "We got into the vinca, I'm afraid," Lowell said afterward. I didn't go look. The pole was still not righted, and the power line sagged low enough in the front yard that it would have caught me on the forehead if I had walked into it.
This evening they came back, along with Dad, and then Doug showed up. Grant joined the effort. Between the five of them, they got the meter pole off the roof and got it temporarily reset. The power was off while they were doing this, but it came back on during supper.
Dad and Ollie marveled at Doug having been able to get his behemoth of a truck between the garage and the nearby trees to get his cherry picker close enough to do the necessary work. "Ich glab eyah hat die bluma fasaaht," (I think he ruined the flowers.) I heard Ollie say. I peeked and saw that indeed the wheels of the truck had tracked right through between the garage wall and the railroad tie that marked the boundary of the flower bed. I haven't looked at the damage since the truck left.
I wish it weren't like this. Heroes who swoop in to perform their dramatic deliverances leave damage along with the deliverance. That's part of living in an imperfect world, and I won't get hung up on the damage if I focus on the kindness and competence of those who came to our rescue.
Last night's storm was a complete surprise. Usually we have ample warning. The hail boards Hiromi made to put on top of the tomato cages in case of weather like this were all hanging on the fence from specially-made wire hooks. This morning some of them were twisted violently. When another round of rain threatened this forenoon, I went out and put them all in place. This way they'll be where they belong if the severe weather predicted for late tomorrow afternoon materializes. With highs in the upper 90's and a cold front coming through around 5:00, I won't be surprised if the clash of contrasting temperatures causes turbulence. I already have plans to be in a safe place when that happens.
posted by Mrs. I at
8:17 PM
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