That Pine Fresh Scent

Last night was one of those awesome windy, rainy nights where I am almost guaranteed a great night's sleep. I have insomnia off and on, and so I have spent many years studying the conditions that make for a good night's sleep, and a windy, rainy night is near the top of the list for me. And last night was a doozy. It was enough to make me want to whistle "I Love A Rainy Night" by Eddie Rabbit as I got into bed. I drifted off to dreamy land, feeling as calm and sleepy as the whispery tone of the Bionic Woman who's always talking about Sleep Number beds, except not as creepy as that. So I went ahead and hooched it up with the Sandman. Until...

KA-SLAM! I was awakened by the loudest, freakiest, most gawd-awful sound. It was shake-your-innards loud. I mean, seriously. Heavens to mergatroid. Nordic Boy sat up, and in the next few seconds of silence, we both noticed that although it was almost 8am, the room seemed kind of dark. Kind of filtered, underwater light was seeping through the windows. Had the house been transported to Oz? (The Judy Garland Oz, not the penitentiary Oz). Nordic Boy and I both lifted the curtains and peered out the window. Branches. All we could see were branches. And the window doesn't normally look out onto any nearby trees.

"Get out of the bed, now!" Nordic Boy yelled at me as he pulled on his clothes. Nordic Boy never ever yells at me. And I mean never. And certainly not about getting me out of bed. I figured out later that it was because he thought I was about to be royally smooshed. I jumped out too, and he pulled me out of the room.

We went into the next bedroom over, and the lighting seems fine in there. So I pulled the blinds and looked out the window. Well, lordy lordy, Weezy's forty. There is a forty-foot pine tree (owned by our neighbor) that has been blown by the wind so hard that its roots have been completely pulled out, and it has toppled right over across my back yard. The top of the tree has clipped the side of my house! On the corner right above my bedroom! Had it blown over THREE FEET to the left, we would have had a librarian pancake, flattened in her bed!

But it was three feet to the right, which meant that it clipped the side of the house, taking down the gutters and part of the eave and a whole mess of shingles. And it left dear Librarian Girl in one luscious piece, with Nordic Boy flawless as he should be. Shee-yott. That was a close one.

So now I have a friggin' dead Ent in my yard. Bettah him than me.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl