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the treehouse: my weird luck.


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i had no cause to believe this morning would be anything other than a typical monday morning when my alarm woke me up at 7am.

i let willie outside and shuffled down the long hallway and rounded the corner into the kitchen for my morning ritual, or to quote dolly parton,

get outta bed and i stumble to the kitchen
pour myself a cup of ambition
a'yawnin', stretchin' tryin' to come to life

i know you were singing along. don't try to deny it.

as i was preparing a very strong cup of coffee, my sleepy, not-quite-all-the-way-focused eyes trained on the kitchen window over the sink, subconsciously expecting to see what i see every morning: back yard. fence. neighbor's house across the street. sunlight.
my eyeballs and brains were a little confused when all they saw were green. leaves. foliage. TREE.




whaaat? let me just reiterate that this is not my normal kitchen window view; this is:




you can see how the image in the first photo might have given me pause... what the hell!

i ran out the front door with my camera around to the side of my house, and saw this:



"hm." i thought to myself, "interesting." i don't recall half of that 150 year old native pecan tree crushing my fence and filling my back yard yesterday."

we had severe weather yesterday and i spent most of the day with my family, from about 2:30pm until about 10:30pm, so i suppose it could have happened while i was gone, when there was inclement weather. no scorchmarks, so i doubt it was lightning.

i called the tree-fell-on-your-house authorities, who told me that pecan trees, while very hard wood when dried, are a soft wood when alive, and water from frequent, heavy rainfall tends to sometimes make the branches heavy enough to break off.

oh. well. i didn't know that. and now i do.

mr. chainsaw came out and chopped up the half-a-tree, and my fence, which seemed crushed and bent beyond repair, snapped right back into place without the weight of the tree. who knew rubbermaid manufactured chainlink fences. he stacked all of the tree-parts in my yard for the city's monthly large-refuse pickup which, unfortunately, isn't until the second tuesday in june. this is what me and my neighbors get to look at until then:



pretty. my neighbors are gonna love me even more than they already do. the chick without a lawnmower, whose yard guy is a good-for-nothing lazy layabout who shows up three weeks after he's supposed to when the grass is high enough to conceal preteen children standing erect. that lady.

and yes, in case you were wondering, my house is where the sidewalk ends, so here's my favorite poem from shel silverstein's book "where the sidewalk ends".

Dreadful

Someone ate the baby.
It's rather sad to say.
Someone ate the baby
So she won't be out to play.
We'll never hear her whiney cry
Or have to feel if she is dry.
We'll never hear her asking "Why?"
Someone ate the baby.

Someone ate the baby.
It's absolutely clear
Someone ate the baby
'Cause the baby isn't here.
We'll give away her toys and clothes.
We'll never have to wipe her nose.
Dad says, "That's the way it goes."
Someone ate the baby.

Someone ate the baby.
What a frightful thing to eat!
Someone ate the baby
Though she wasn't very sweet.
It was a heartless thing to do.
The policemen haven't got a clue.
I simply can't imagine who
Would go and (burp) eat the baby.

hehe. i love that poem.


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About me

  • I'm melissa mcgee
  • From Temple, Texas, United States
  • photographer. singer. soapcrafter. herbalist. dogmom. godmother. fantastic cook. i kiss better than i cook. [all photographs on this blog copyright melissa mcgee unless otherwise noted.]
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