I woke up yesterday morning to strong winds that melted the remaining snow, toppled trees, and sent garbage cans rolling down the road. The river birches around the house bent almost double as they swished back and forth, the branches scraping the sides of the house. Watching out my back window, I could see the brittle old Scotch pines in my woods go crashing down. By the time the storm was over, three trees in my front yard — dead trees, not any of the ones I’ve planted — were on the ground, one narrowly missing my car.
Brooklyn Friend, who now lives in Camera City, called me to say she was on her way to visit. “Do you have a chainsaw?” I asked. “We could use one.”
She paused. “Um, I just bought an ice scraper for my car. Would that work?”
My husband sent a text messages to kids and extras to see who could help with the clean-up. My daughter and Sailor Boy stopped at his parents’ house to borrow a chainsaw on their way over. “My Dad has all kinds of cool tools,” Sailor Boy explained.
He cut up the trees, and the rest of the gang went to work, piling up logs that could be used for firewood and tossing the rest of the branches into the woods. By the time Brooklyn Friend had arrived, the front yard was clear. All that remained were piles of sawdust that will soon be covered under another layer of snow.