A couple weeks ago a freak storm came through town and snapped/knocked over/destroyed at least 7000 trees.
Two of them were on one side of my property, and they fell across the road that my kids walk up when they come home from school.
So the trees were cut and dragged to the side of the road, but pretty much every road in town has fallen trees and piles of brush everywhere, and since those are pretty low on the priority list because there were 40 homes that were destroyed and entire power infrastructures that needed to be rebuilt and there are still people without phone, cable, and internet, it’s gonna be a while before the stuff along the sides of the road is moved.
So right after the storm, our street looked like this:
Then about 48 hours later, it looked like this:
So the road was passable, but the shoulder was still totally covered with fallen trees and branches.
And that’s not a big deal, but Number 3 and 4 walk up that side of the street when they come home from school. And Number 4 doesn’t really care, but Number 3 is very cautious when he walks home because drivers are very often distracted when they are driving down that road and he likes to walk up on the shoulder because he doesn’t want to run over by a car.
Now that he can’t walk on the side of the road in the grass because it’s full of fallen trees, he told my parents one day as they were driving him home from swim practice that he runs as fast as he can up the hill.
Which isn’t really a big deal — I mean, the exercise won’t kill him — but my dad was concerned about Number 3’s safety, plus he just felt really bad for him.
So for the past two weeks, my 73-year-old dad has been coming up to the house with his chainsaw and his rake and his blower.
And day by day, he’s picked away at the trees lying on the side of the road so there is a clear path on the grass for Number 3 to walk on.
And now it looks like this:
And now Number 3 and 4 have a clear path to walk home on, and my dad has gotten a whole bunch of firewood.
My dad is awesome.