Shade trees and bourbon …

Sun finally rose enough today to see outdoors so I went to take a look. We had all gone to bed last evening under the threat of severe weather. It was a Force Five Weather Apoplexy Event for the TV weather children. I awoke several times during the night, from dreams involving pulchritudinous English majors, to listen to the commotion as it passed through. The sounds were alarming but soon succumbed to soft voices cooing, "Let us go then, you and I … ."

This morn, all seemed okay. The electricity worked. My knees worked, bofe'em. I remembered my name. Outside, I saw no "victim" trees or utility poles. People don't understand that while, yes, quaint neighborhoods receive great charm and ambiance from mature, splendiferous, trees, evil weather tends to blow those trees over every great once in a while. It's one of life's trade-offs. One can live in a gated "cult" subdivision in the comfort that everyone looks exactly like you, or someplace in old America where shade trees offer a place to drink bourbon of an afternoon while people walk by who may appear quite different, but still expect you to wave.

I'll take my bourbon, storms or no storms.

A victim tree from several years back.