If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down?
We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason.
I am quick on the draw with the deep thoughts, but otherwise somewhat behindhand in illustrating the destruction we found in the KJ southern annex last weekend. For those of you urban types who are having trouble wrapping your minds around what happened, these pictures will help.
The barn was in the most jeopardy last weekend. The uprooted tree is being propped up by another tree next to the barn. We almost removed the propping-up tree last year for aesthetic reasons; good thing we didn't!
The greenhouse took the biggest hit, but it was in need of some help anyway. This picture gives you some idea of the amount of force the wind must have had, to split this good-sized tree up the middle.
Work is under way to clean this whole mess up, leaving us with some holes in the ground and the world's biggest pile of wood chips. But since no one was hurt and no one's house was damaged, we consider that we have dodged a big bullet.
I must say, if I could have a hand-knit scarf that looked like food, my next winter would be made. Maybe my next several winters.
Found in dead tree land in Giant Robot.
We have been at pains to explain to people that the freakishly large storm that blew through and upended 27 trees was not at the farm. Instead the wind came through town.
Strange people are coming through the grounds with flashlights, apparently.
We are suddenly no. 1 on the "Random Guy with a Chainsaw Looking to Make a Buck" list of people to make friends with.
Sympathetic listeners in Chicago have, I think, trouble wrapping their heads around this problem of ours. In the city, 27 trees is an entire park, or sometimes two parks.
I am thinking of staging a telethon to help us cover the costs of cleaning all this up.
Still, we are thankful that no one was hurt and the house is more or less undamaged. The wind came through town, but it could have been much worse.
Anybody got a backhoe I can borrow?