It was a lovely warm day and I had spent the afternoon mowing the front yard and doing some weeding. After evening chores it was still warm enough to leave the front door open and Bess was sitting on the front porch watching twilight fall. Then I heard the unmistakeable rolling cra-a-a-ck of a falling tree or big limb, but not the whump when it landed. Bessie whimpered and I brought her in while I went for a quick survey with a flashlight. In the near-dark, I couldn't find anything amiss close to the house, but we're waiting for dawn to find where and how much damage was done. I'm really not interested in providing job security for Tree Guy in this manner.
Pete and I reverted to being ten-year-olds as my SoCal son and I sent photos back and forth, trying to out-gross each other with our current owies. I personally think my mosquito bite tops his swollen elbow bursa, but gave him the required sympathy; that's what moms do. Clay is coming up today and maybe I can impress him (okay, I'm not as mature as one might think).
Looking out windows in the dim morning light, I can't see the stricken tree. I'm still waiting for daylight.