Rite of Spring

Today I finally found myself chomping at the bit to get stuff DONE around the house.

It rained until lunch, so all I did prior to then was go to the library.

***

After lunch, though, I ventured into the back yard. Our poor back yard... in matters of landscaping, I'm bad about "out of sight, out of mind." If I can't see it, I'm not much bothered by all the work that needs to be done.

Nevertheless, I started to further dismantle the tree (aka "Kelli's nemesis") I chopped down some months ago. It had grown up into the power lines, and multiple calls to the city, the power company, and a guy at a TCBY named Lester did NOT result in the tree being cut down by trained professionals.

So one day several months ago Kelli made me suitably mad about something (don't worry--we made up) that I took hand tools to the tree and began to hack away.

The neighbor behind us, who had also fruitlessly placed some calls about getting the tree cut down, peered tentatively out her back door at me. She perhaps recognized my testosterone fury at the time, however, and wisely chose to remain indoors.

And yeah, it was risky, me with a saw blade up there near the power lines. Oh, I wasn't reckless or anything. I actually made strategic cuts that weren't particularly close to the lines. I was at far greater risk of falling off the ladder and breaking my neck than being electrocuted.

***

So today I finished the task of cutting the tree into manageable pieces. Ever tried to throw away a tree? If you bundle the limbs right, the city will haul it off with the trash.

And seeing as how it rained all morning, I didn't feel I could safely use my electric tools to do this. "...By hatchet, axe and saw," as Geddy Lee ("The Trees") sang. As I intimated before, I wasn't keen on getting electrocuted.

***

It went well enough until the brief sunshine gave way to grey clouds, then the inevitable sprinkles.

Eh, a little rain won't hurt me, I thought.

I'd hauled a few bundles to the curb when began that eerie DFW rite of spring: The emergency alarms.

I'm not talking about passing cops or ambulances or whatever. I'm talking about those pole-mounted jobs spread throughout this area that pretty much only get used when there's a tornado.

It'll send a chill up your spine for sure.

It'll also give you a good excuse to knock off your yard work for the day.

***

Reminded me of an episode from my (altogether too many) years at Brazosport College ("of Knowledge," as Bruiser would call it). I rode most days with then-girlfriend LLB.

She showed up at the house one morning and asked if, since the weather was so bad, I REALLY wanted to go to school that day.

"I am GOING to SCHOOL TODAY," I insisted for some reason.

As if on cue, the lights went out. I wheeled around to peer into the newly darkened house, and the phone rang. It was Dad.

"There's a tornado touching down in Angleton and--oh, gotta go, it just blew the windows out of the truck." Click.

Keep in mind that this was all in the span of about 60 seconds.

We started checking out the weather through the kitchen window, and yeah, it looked like a hurricane was blowing through.

The phone rang again. More Dad.

"There's a tornado over in the cemetery by the fire station--uh oh, gotta go." Click.

The cemetery and fire station happened to be about a quarter mile from the house.

So LLB and I went to the hall and proceeded to lie face down on the floor while the storm wreaked havoc outside.

It didn't seem like a tornado had actually touched down that close to the house, but the windows in the Ram were indeed shattered, blown outward.

***

Today's storm was intense in some places, though it never got bad here.

But every spring we all end up in the hall closet at some point while waiting for the sirens to cease and the winds to finish wreaking havoc.

It's scary enough that, for a change, I'm actually not going to make a joke.