Seven or eight years ago some guy veered off the highway and ran into a tree on the back of our property. I was mowing the lawn inside the fenced area of our yard and heard it happen, so I went to see if anyone had been injured and wound up keeping the driver company until the police and fire department arrived. He was drunk and most likely fell asleep at the wheel, destroying not only his car but also a good-sized mesquite tree. I decided to cut the tree up for firewood but didn’t get to it till the next day, by which time someone had carted it all off, leaving not a twig. Who knew fallen mesquite trees were so valuable?
Three years ago a neighbor kid veered off the road in front of our house and plowed into our front yard. He just missed the mailbox and a big barrel cactus, but did manage to hit a large stone and knock part of his front suspension off. He wasn’t drunk but was probably on pharmaceuticals . . . about a week later he fired off a rifle in his house and the cops came. Since then he’s settled down, or at any rate there have been no more problems.
So this morning I’m waking the dog and a neighbor lady pops out her house to tell me a young man ran off the highway a couple of days ago and hit another mesquite tree in back of our house. I guess we weren’t home when it happened. According to the neighbor, who ran out to make sure no one had been hurt and, like me, stayed with the victim until paramedics came, the young man had been up on the mountain climbing cliffs for several hours. He wasn’t drunk, but just like the guy several years ago, fell asleep on his drive home. He wasn’t hurt badly, but his car was totaled.
When I got home this morning I walked out to the highway and took a photo of our latest tree casualty. Some big limbs were knocked off but the tree looks like it’ll live. The downed limbs are too big for me to move by myself, but at least this time they’re still there, probably because you can’t see them from the road. Maybe I can borrow someone’s chain saw and cut them into firewood right where they lay.
Chez Paul . . . nexus of disaster.