![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Aug. 12th, 2013 05:11 amI've been up and down all night looking for a gap in the clouds and fog through which meteors might be seen. There haven't been any, but when I came out the door ten minutes ago, the vibration of its opening proved sufficient to unsettle the dying tree above my room. There was a massive cracking sound over my head, and I got quickly off the porch.
I can see that it hasn't impacted the roof, but not which way the bulk of it fell - ie, whether the heaviest part is now hovering precariously above my bedroom. So instead of going back inside right away, I walked around in the field in my bathrobe for a while and waited for the roof to be crushed.
After about ten minutes of silence from the tree I re-entered long enough to rescue the laptop, so that I could keep the internet apprised of the status of my room and all the valuable Baen SF paperbacks contained therein. The front-facing window is all blocked by leaves, but the side-facing one is not, which is a good sign vis-a-vis crushing, or rather not-crushing, I guess. I'm nonetheless now in the living room until it's light enough I can see what's going on out there.
Our biggest apple tree fell on its face over the weekend and is still lying across much of the front yard, except for the apples Dad stripped off it and I made cake with yesterday, so really it's probably only a matter of time before the old part of the house is reclaimed by the wood, like in Patricia McKillip's Winter Rose.
I may be being irrational about the actual danger posed by the tree, but I'm really tired and a branch cracked over my head in the dark, so I'm probably going to keep being irrational until it's light out. I may go have some of the doomapple cake in a second to see if that helps, though.
I can see that it hasn't impacted the roof, but not which way the bulk of it fell - ie, whether the heaviest part is now hovering precariously above my bedroom. So instead of going back inside right away, I walked around in the field in my bathrobe for a while and waited for the roof to be crushed.
After about ten minutes of silence from the tree I re-entered long enough to rescue the laptop, so that I could keep the internet apprised of the status of my room and all the valuable Baen SF paperbacks contained therein. The front-facing window is all blocked by leaves, but the side-facing one is not, which is a good sign vis-a-vis crushing, or rather not-crushing, I guess. I'm nonetheless now in the living room until it's light enough I can see what's going on out there.
Our biggest apple tree fell on its face over the weekend and is still lying across much of the front yard, except for the apples Dad stripped off it and I made cake with yesterday, so really it's probably only a matter of time before the old part of the house is reclaimed by the wood, like in Patricia McKillip's Winter Rose.
I may be being irrational about the actual danger posed by the tree, but I'm really tired and a branch cracked over my head in the dark, so I'm probably going to keep being irrational until it's light out. I may go have some of the doomapple cake in a second to see if that helps, though.
