Attack Of the Icy Trees Of Death
Wednesday, January 28th, 2009
It took me an hour to pry my frozen car door open today.
I finally got my car open and my windows scraped, just as temperatures were falling back under freezing while the sleet kept pouring down.
While I was prying the door open, I heard and saw huge trees smashing down - about one every five minutes. Some fell onto empty ground, some onto roads, some on parked cars and some on people's houses and apartments.
Every time a tree fell, I heard the loud violent crash. Every crash of the failing trees carried with it the distinct possibility that the tree had landed on an occupied house or car. It seemed as though nature itself had determined to play Russian Roulette with the homes and lives of my neighbors.
All of that I heard, in just one hour on one block. And that was before the refreeze and the extra sleet.
Now I am in Siloam, relatively safer, and fortunate enough to have family and shelter and electricity.
But I can'sleep - each time I hear a tree creaking or moaning or branches giving way is like a haunting reminder of all of the people still trapped in their homes, surrounded by frozen trees on the verge of collapse, some of whom will fall onto houses, through roofs and then onto whatever is beneath those roofs.
Each creek is a reminder that somewhere else a tree has just fallen, and one more person might just have been killed.
I don't know exactly why I'm writing all of this, or who I'm writing it too - if anyone. I just hope the worst has passed, and that all of you are safe and sound with power. (and internets, of course.)
next >
It took me an hour to pry my frozen car door open today.
I finally got my car open and my windows scraped, just as temperatures were falling back under freezing while the sleet kept pouring down.
While I was prying the door open, I heard and saw huge trees smashing down - about one every five minutes. Some fell onto empty ground, some onto roads, some on parked cars and some on people's houses and apartments.
Every time a tree fell, I heard the loud violent crash. Every crash of the failing trees carried with it the distinct possibility that the tree had landed on an occupied house or car. It seemed as though nature itself had determined to play Russian Roulette with the homes and lives of my neighbors.
All of that I heard, in just one hour on one block. And that was before the refreeze and the extra sleet.
Now I am in Siloam, relatively safer, and fortunate enough to have family and shelter and electricity.
But I can'sleep - each time I hear a tree creaking or moaning or branches giving way is like a haunting reminder of all of the people still trapped in their homes, surrounded by frozen trees on the verge of collapse, some of whom will fall onto houses, through roofs and then onto whatever is beneath those roofs.
Each creek is a reminder that somewhere else a tree has just fallen, and one more person might just have been killed.
I don't know exactly why I'm writing all of this, or who I'm writing it too - if anyone. I just hope the worst has passed, and that all of you are safe and sound with power. (and internets, of course.)