So I got home from work today to find this madness (sorry about the as usual bad, unedited iPhone photos).
Our neighbors had this tree that was gigantic and dying. Their landlord (she lived there when we moved in but now rents the house) had been trying to have the tree taken out, but there were bees living in it, so she had to have a guy come out and get rid of the bees before another guy would come out and get rid of the tree.
And so it came to be that while waiting for this to happen, nature was all, haha fuck you people and your plans, and that gigantic dying tree just snapped in two and the big part fell across our yard and the next neighbor’s yard. The good news is that no people or animals were hurt (Update: There were two pigeon casualties. ) and no houses or cars suffered any damage. And the downed power line was dead, having been snapped right off the live wires behind the houses (of course I didn’t know that as I mountain-goated in my platform shoes over the thing when I got home).
The bad news isn’t even all that bad. Neighbor landlord is awesome and has already been out to check out the damage and has offered to pay for anything that needs to be fixed. Her tree guy will take care of the tree within the next few days and we’ll get as much free mulch as we want. But, the bad news is that our little baby tree in our front yard was snapped like the little twig it pretty much was, and all that’s left is a little branch Ben broke off for me and one leaf and one set of bright red helicopters that I carefully placed between pages of the biggest book I have (Colorado Real Property Law, a book I cite checked back in my freelance days — it was a tossup between that and the Nowak and Rotunda constitutional law hornbook). One section of our fence was taken out, but it’s just chain link so easy to replace (and it wasn’t the section that’s now completely covered with ivy, so that’s awesome).
And — ugh, I don’t even want to talk about this part, but the most traumatic thing about having a gigantic tree fall in our yard is the fact that I had to see the freakishly gigantic beehive that had been lurking inside the tree for who knows how long. Our yard is swarming (no exaggeration — you can hear the yard buzzing — don’t go out there!) with bees. Wait, not just bees. Bees, wasps, hornets, whatever flying things that were living in the ecosystem of that crazy tree. And I don’t mind any of these guys themselves. It’s the nests. We’ve had wasps building nests on our fence every day for weeks and I’ve been traumatized by their nests, but gigantor beehive was even worse. Oh man that shit freaks me right out. It’s that same feeling people get about lotus seed pods — do you know what I’m talking about? There’s a word for that but I can’t google it because sometimes when you google shit like that, pictures come up and I can’t even. Now I’m getting the crawlies and I’m going to lie awake tonight thinking about beehives and that’s so stupid but damn those things freak me out. So anyway, let’s never speak of the nests of bugs again. Deal?
And I know this is silly, especially in light of the hundreds of people in Colorado who have lost their homes this week, but I’ll miss you, little tree.