Dearest, most patient and forgiving reader: It feels like an eternity since I’ve penned my last blog post.  Last night, however, brought an event so traumatic…so life-altering….so memorable… that I could barely keep my fingertips off of my keyboard when I finally got the chance to reflect upon it this evening.

It is nearly March…and as we near the one year anniversary of my “WHAT??!” blog post (which addressed the inordinate number of snow days we were suffering), I am stunned and saddened to report that this year, we have NO SNOW. We are in Maine, and we have NO SNOW.  I moved to Maine mostly for the ocean and the snow.  My family and friends in New Jersey have been calling to report in on all of the snow days they’ve been suffering through. We here in Portland, on the other hand, have NO SNOW.  What we do have, however, are trees. Lots of trees. Falling on  things. Mostly, falling on my house.

When I went to bed last night, the scene outside was like something from The Wizard of Oz.  Howling wind, small animals flying through the air.  It was scary!  Two of my children climbed into my bed with me in a show of solidarity….and fright. My other son was in his own bed. It’s not that he wasn’t invited, it’s just that it was easier to fit 3 kids in bed with me when most of them were smaller than me.  Ok.  So we are asleep for maybe 45 minutes…and suddenly…it’s earthquake time. Well, not really…but it feels like one. There is a crash…the house shakes. I bolt upright and scream (according to an unreliable 11 yr old source).  In my mind’s eye, I imagine the gargantuan pine tree, located perilously close to our house, has crashed through the roof.  I am clearly an almost-psychic.  It is, indeed,a gargantuan pine tree…although not the one I imagined.

Children numbers 1 and 3 get up with me to investigate. We go downstairs. We have no electricity. No heat. We light candles, because as usual, the 37 flashlights I have lovingly purchased to ensure our safety in such situations are all MIA.  And even if we located one, its batteries would be in someone’s Play Station 2.

So it is approximately 12:30 AM…and we are in the driveway…in the dark….in the midst of what appears to be a hurricane…in our pajamas and snow boots…holding candles.   And we see this foreboding black shape.  Like some monster from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

My daughter comments that she is going to throw up.  And that she will never again consider atheism as a viable option.

The looming monster is pressed up against the opposite corner of our house.  My vintage house. My vintage, 1915, glassed-in porch.

YIKES!

Now, I feel that I too am going to throw up. “My porch!  My beautiful PORCH!”  Into the house we bolt with our candles…and we run to the porch.  Through the kitchen, through the living room…we open the French doors…we open the front porch door.  It is pitch black, but for our romantic candles.  I slowly push open the storm door…and this is what greets me…………………………………>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Much like that scene in the National Lampoon Christmas Vacation movie, where the branches of the unwieldy Christmas tree explode through the Griswald’s living room windows.   I open the storm door, reach my hand out into the abyss…and get poked in the face by the needles of a pine tree that had, moments before, been 45 feet up in the stratosphere.

Amazingly, it hit the edge of our house and then split into two pieces….instead of slamming down upon the entire  structure.

Amazingly, it did minimal damage to said house.

Amazingly, not one vintage glass window on my beloved vintage porch was scratched.

Amazingly, it did not veer a few yards to the left and obliterate my car.

Amazingly, it did not veer a few yards to the right, and obliterate  the 3 of us as we slept …all snuggled up in my bed.

But for us, it isn’t amazing…it is Drew, watching over us. I am convinced of that. Really. This widowhood thing has to come with some sort of 50 year protection program or something.

The next morning (this morning, dear reader!), we watched as neighbors circled around and took photos and even video footage.  It’s probably the most excitement they’ve seen since that night I arrived home from a hot date at 3 AM and still had steam on the inside of my car windows.  I mean, this is suburbia. People own leaf blowers.

I could go on and on about how much fun it was when my 14 year old son awoke this morning to a house that was 56 degrees….and was sporting an enormous conifer….but that would be too much for a Friday evening. Instead, I shall bid you adieu with a sampling of photos.  Sadly, we really could have used the top 8 feet of this tree in early December.  Is anyone thinking of building some nice pine furniture?  xxoo