It seems like forever that I’ve had an ear worm with the song by Meghan Trainor “All About That Bass” . I first heard it when a Facebook friend in North Carolina shared a picture of a neighbor’s home that was decorated to the hilt for Halloween. The pumpkin faces that adorned each window in the home were synchronized to that song – even their lips (if pumpkins have lips) were moving. The song has been stuck in my head ever since. I have Christmas music in the background now, to try to filter those lovely songs into my head and chase “All About That Bass” from my head forever.
Well, due to the incessant rain and cold, and, since I met my walking goal last week, my pace has slowed to a crawl, if not slower than a crawl. The steps have been almost non-existent, save walking from room to room in my small house. In fact, I didn’t even leave the upstairs to go into the basement for three days. That is, until today when I suited up to go outside.
This morning I ventured out to check the front and back yards from yesterday’s wicked winds. Yesterday I had been tipped off by my friend and neighbor Marge that my 10 X 4 foot metal shed had gone airborne. This happened right around the time one of her two tall pear trees split in two. She called me with the news. Then, we both worried about the fate of the other pear tree as the winds gusted mightily at around 58-62 miles per hour.
The problematic pear tree crashed into the street. The City workers came and sawed off some of the branches and banked them up on the lawn ‘til they could be dealt with.
The wind raged on and I thought about the remaining pear tree. What would be its fate?
And, long into the night I heard the creaking and groaning of the metal shed each time the wind whipped through it.
This morning I went into the backyard, not knowing whether the shed would be listing to the left, to the right, or, perhaps it had merely somersaulted since it left its rusty moorings after being secured in place since the late 60s.
Well, it was quite a sight out back. The shed looked like a Colonial Blue beached whale, having thrust itself forward, and was squarely sitting in the middle of my backyard upside down and rocking on its roof.
I now have an excellent view of the pit bull who lives behind me since the area is all exposed and open. We checked each other out this morning, as I peered around the corner of the shed, and he warily glanced at me, all the while protecting his turf. Note to self: come Spring, get yourself a large box of Milk Bone dog biscuits and make nice with this dog before backyard chores must be done.
Interestingly, nothing else moved in the area around my house … the “Welcome” sign was not wrested from the wall by the wind, nor did those gusts tear off my carefully-wrapped faucet cover. Everything else was intact; just that pesky shed that went up, up and away.
I walked into the house and soon heard the rumble of large trucks, so immediately I went to the front door to investigate. Two trucks bearing the logo “EJ Tree Service” were in front of Marge’s house. In record time, they unloaded their rigs, and I watched in fascination, while the two men worked industriously to fell those tall trees. One tree trimmer wielded his chainsaw which whirred incessantly as he lopped off huge branches, while the other tree trimmer sat atop a small machine and manipulated its “jaws” to grab long, leaf-covered branches to be fed into the grinding machine. They were done in no time, and all that remains is a pile of sawdust, and no worries now about where and when the trees might fall.
I am feeling very blessed today during this Thanksgiving week.
As I told Marge yesterday when she called me, the damage could have been any number of things – the roof, very old trees that are all around that could have crashed down, and, even our loss of power, along with the other 149,999 homes or businesses that suddenly went lights out. I worried about little Buddy and how I could keep him warm. All those things were racing through my mind on Monday while that wind raged on and on.
A neighbor across the street collects scrap metal and I am hopeful that he would like to add my shed to his collection, and my misfortune might just prove to be his lucky day and provide his Thanksgiving dinner this year.