A Forest Has Sprung Up

For those of you not privy to the charming weather saying around Texas, let me enlighten you: "Wait a minute and the weather will change."

Having lived here awhile, I can attest to this statement. I can't tell you how many times the weather will be 70 degrees one day and the next closer to 40. It's like living with a bipolar Mother Nature going through menopause. She's just flat mean.

We're Texas, for crying out loud. We are used to cooler weather. But really cold stuff? Not so much.

So the Winter storm that dropped so much snow in our neighborhood that we lost power? It was just a bit over the top, even by Mother N's standards.

Yes, I live in a community that was built about 60 years ago and we still have above-ground electrical wiring. When all this heavy snow was dropped in the metroplex*, those electrical wires were all "WHA?" then "HUH?" then (huge, cylindrical transformers talking) "POW. BAM. KABOOM". With electric sparks, just for show.

Then? Darkness. And silence. And more deceptively beautiful, damage inducing snow.

At first this was FUN. Cooking on the grill outdoors. Learning to make coffee without the maker, using only grounds, water, a heavy-duty pan, and an ingenuous ball of filters. All the neighborhood kids gathered together, bundled up so tight they should have died of heat exhaustion.

The next night? Sleeping in front of the wimpiest fire ever, in a house that was now 50 degrees? To say it was cold is understating it by the distance between Maine and California. Plus some**.

Then, damage inventory. LOTS of tree limbs, some uprooted trees, and tons of debris later, we had ourselves piles upon piles of junk outside every house on the street.

Insanely, every street with trees in the area looked exactly like ours.

So the City of Dallas began to work in earnest and hired extra crews and began hauling tons of junk to our landfill. Something crazy like four tons a day. And they are not done. In case you are calendar illiterate, it's almost April. And this all went down on February 11th. According to the squeaky math wheels in my brain, that was 43 days ago.

Now we're being warned that the "critters" are taking up residence in the piles. Snakes, rats, etc. Thank goodness I know people who are packing because I will show absolutely no mercy to anything that slithers or slinks out of our pile of junk. They'll be blown sky high wondering "Where the heck did THAT come from?"

So, I'm beginning to wonder if it just makes sense to leave all the piles, create a wildlife refuge, bag "critter" snacks, and charge admission to our street. "Briar Cove Forestation Project" has a nice ring, I think.

Something tells me we could probably petition the city for the correct permits and get this party started faster than the City will get our collective forest cleared.


*Look. If you live somewhere North of Oklahoma you're laughing at our paltry cold and snow. But we're DALLAS, for crying out loud. We don't own industrial-strength snow boots or shovels or ice scrapers. Our heavy jackets are only for taking skiing, once or twice a year, at places we can fly in and out of without bringing the snow home with us.

**I distinctly remember waking up sometime well into the night, unable to feel my feet or my nose, sitting bolt upright and shrieking a word I won't type here. Mike was unsympathetic, having just been woken up by a screaming banshee who was freaking out and screaming something "R" rated within earshot of everyone in the room. Thank goodness the kids slept through the rant that concluded with "And my brain is frozen like a lost explorer in the Artic".