After extricating the Panzer from the shelf of ice produced by the passage of the county snow plows, driving around the circular drive several times to break down the crusted ice, and then giving up to take refuge in front of a roaring fire, I contemplated life in winter.
It was bad in Arlington, but mostly in terms of the apprehension about what was happening on the roads, and then not driving on them. The County was pretty good about keeping the local roads in acceptable condition, and my compromise with the elements was to not drive on them. So, life at Big Pink went on with steady power and only the oppressive atmosphere of imposed house arrest grated.
Of course, I knew that the farm needed attention, and there was the nagging worry that pipes had burst or some other disaster had befallen the little property.
By the time I had things unpacked and organized and shoveled out the front porch and the flagstone pavers that lead out to the drive, I was relieved that things seemed to have survived in good order. I am hoping this was the worst of the winter, with only irritating inconvenience to come from the skies.
I was standing in the back bedroom, looking out at the pastures when I realized what was wrong. There was a diagonal line leading directly from the front of the garage to the top of the barn. I opened the door and crunched out onto the un-shoveled expanse of the back deck. Sure enough, one of the sturdy pines (Pinus virginiana) that populate the property had assumed a rakish- no, make that a drunken- lean from its root bundle in front of the estate office double doors that reached to the peak of the barn.
Crap. There did not appear to be any structural damage that I could see, and documented the event in case this winds up with the insurance company like the last time we got smacked with heavy snow and a similar tree crashed down on the back deck and crushed the propane grill. I sighed. You never know what you are going to wind up doing, down on the farm.
I compromised on progress and conferred with my neighbor Russians about the likely course of action- I had enlisted the services of a local tree service the last time, but this seemed to be fairly straightforward, provided I could fell the tree and avoid crushing the fence, the pasture gate or a part of the tin roof.
We decided to drink instead, and deal with the tree next weekend when the snow may be gone. There was a lot to catch up on, and they assured me that Spring is going to come one of these weeks. Really.
Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303