Merlin is afraid of our backyard. He was never the bravest poodle to begin with, but now he’s a complete coward. I can’t say that I blame him. Last month our backyard almost killed us.
It was a cozy Sunday afternoon and the kids and I were snug in the house while my husband was at Stevens Pass. I knew there was a high wind advisory, so I double checked that my cell phone was fully charged in case we lost power. Then I curled up on the couch with my daughter to take a nap while she watched television. My son played Minecraft on the computer and Merlin nestled at my feet.
The next thing I knew, I woke up to my daughter exclaiming “A branch fell!” There was a thump against the window.
In those first few seconds, I thought: earthquake! Get my children away from the windows! I yanked my daughter off the couch and we raced to kitchen table.
I heard my son swear with every word his fifth-grade vocabulary knew. There was a whooshing sound that my brain couldn’t register.
I was awake now, but I still didn’t understand what I saw. I looked out our sliding glass door, but didn’t see our backyard. Instead, there was a forest of branches.
“A tree fell!” my son shouted.
A tree. Yes. That was what I was seeing. My mind clicked into gear. It wasn’t just any tree — it was a 70-foot hemlock. It lay there like a dead giant, arms brushed against the side of the house where moments before I had been napping.
“Get to the playroom right now,” I tried to keep my voice steady even though I was freaking out. The wind was still rushing. There were seven more trees on our property that could fall.
“Are we going to die?” Big tears rolled down my daughter’s cheeks.
We closed the playroom door and huddled on the spare bed. It seemed like the safest place to be because this was the only room that didn’t have a large tree next to it. Merlin whimpered.
My husband came home a couple of hours later, just as the wind was dying down. Together, we inspected the damage. The hemlock crushed a fence, destroyed my vegetable garden and knocked off part of the gutters.
If the tree had fallen three feet closer to the house, my daughter and I would be dead. By the grace of Providence we were spared. It was a miracle we weren’t crushed.
Now a trusted arborist has inspected every tree in our yard. We have two and a half cords of firewood to harvest. My husband is the proud owner of a brand new chainsaw. Our son has learned to split wood with an axe. And Merlin? That dog is a real scaredy-cat. You won’t catch him peeing outside.
Jennifer Bardsley lives in Edmonds. Her book “Genesis Girl” comes out June 14. Find her online on Instagram @the_ya_gal, Twitter @jennbardsley or at teachingmybabytoread.com.
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