I often call where we live, the “almost country”. The neighborhood sort of looks like the burbs, but the surrounding area is pretty country. I mean, there’s a tractor crossing sign at the intersection right before our neighborhood. There’s a lot of farms, and nothing nearby but two lane roads. I mean, I know what real country looks like. I realize that we are on the city water line and it’s not like we’re down in the holler, but what I experienced this morning is irrefutable evidence that it is indeed country living! While out on my morning walk, I started (as always) by heading down to the end of the cul-de-sac. In the field there was a herd (is herd the right word?) of six or seven deer. I continue back up the road and around the corner where I took the asphalt path past the woods. Suddenly I heard a loud pop, or perhaps more accurately a crack. It was loud. I thought it must be a gunshot. Maybe someone was hunting? I didn’t know, but it was loud and suddenly a bunch of birds took flight. I stared at the woods wondering what the heck was going on and then it happened. A tree fell down. Now the tree was in the middle of the woods, so while I could see the shadow and movement of the fall, it’s not like it fell in the road or anything. TIMBER!
Things like this do not happen in the suburbs!