Baby, It’s Cold Outside... and Windy

The howling wind last night reminded me of a situation that happened back on 23rd Street. There are windstorms but this was different. It sounded like an F-16 had landed on the roof. I stumbled through the morning darkness searching for the Remote – giver of life. When the TV came on the local news was covering the storm and the block they were showing live - at that precise moment - was the block I was on. A huge tree on 22nd had come down hard on a vintage Plymouth turning it into instant modern art. We had been hit by a microburst or some other weather term meaning “winds from hell.”
Does anyone else remember back to when a huge tree came down in the Park Blocks, reached all the way to the sidewalk outside what is now the Schnitz, and killed a woman? I thought that was quite a statement: Portland, Oregon, where you can get killed by a falling tree downtown.
Some of these trees are supposed to be in a stand - not out there individually. They can be too brittle to go it alone, and that's when the fun starts. There’s a big tree in the back yard right now named Bertha and to give you an idea how often limbs come off of it, I once heard a large one slam down in my dream, took note of it, but never even bothered to wake up. I just looked out in the morning and it was there on the ground. I'm really hoping Bertha doesn't decide to drop in. Trees never call first.
So if one of these posts stops abruptly you’ll know Bertha swatted me like a fly. Oh well, that’s it from