The backyard is in shambles, and no picture we take could do justice to the carnage. We drive down the street and it's a little sad to see the trees that once stood so tall and majestic, and are now heaps of broken branches and twisted trunks. We've just come out of "Ice Storm 2007" (don't you just love how there's a catchy name now for every event that happens in the world?) and we're really no worse for wear.It could have been worse, actually. It started raining (and
freezing) on Sunday. By Sunday night Tim and I were in the backyard ogling the thick ice collecting on everything. Then we heard the cracks. Gunshot cracks, they were, but nothing actually happened and so we thought we were safe. Good to go, you know? Except that we weren't. I think it was the giant bradford pear that fell first. A third of it went straight into the middle of the yard; no harm done there. The next third landed on the fence, which is still, 5 days later, leaning at a crazy angle. The last third came straignt toward the house, took off part of the gutter and it still partly on the roof. But, no other damage, thank goodness. And it was the other tree we were worried about all along. The one that, you know, leans right over the roof of the house. 
Lots of prayer later, that tree is still mostly intact and didn't cause any damage at all. Whew. I'm happy not to have to run from the bathroom every time I hear a crack, scared that the roof will soon fall in on me. On the toilet, no less. How embarassing would that be? And I'm also happy not to have to worry about rescuing the boys from a falling roof, as well. My heart in my throat, plans about which kid to grab first and which way to run sprint through my head at the slightest sound. Again, whew.There are new things for me to be thankful about, too. For instance, having heat and electricity. How often do I take these simple things for granted? But on Monday, when we were in the cold and dark, I learned that I'm so grateful to, say, have a lamp to read by. Or have light to cook by. That I simply push the button for the garage door to open, and don't think twice about it. We spent part of the day out, and came home to cold and dark. Tim had to go to work, and I was left unprepared and empty handed with the boys. What's worse was that since we've remodeled our living room wall, we didn't even have a fireplace cover, and my fears of random sparks catching the hair of a child on fire kept me from lighting it for a while. But as the thermostat reading dropped lower and lower, and as the kids and I added layer after layer, I decided something must be done. I went to the garage and retrieved the old fireplace doors we'd taken off, and hauled it inside. After what seemed like eternity (I mean it had to have been 20 minutes, at least) with a 50 pound fireplace cover trying to fall on myself and the two boys climbing over my back and legs, I fimally figured out how to attach at least the right side of it to the wall. We
had fire! And as I fixed a peanut butter and honey sandwich, opened a can of chili by candlelight (did I mention we have a gas stove?), and put the milk and chicken on the back porch to keep cold, I figured we'd done pretty well. I mean it was only 5:15, but still, we'd conquered half the day. And with dark coming early, both of the kids were in bed at 7:00. Woo hoo! Tim came and we had grand plans to play a game by the fireplace, then go to bed early. Of course, that's when the power came back on. So we spent the rest of the evening watching TV and playing on the computer. It's the American way, you know.
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