Panicville

Heart pounding and thoughts racing, I awoke at four-thirty this morning.  Of course that's why the branch over the goat barn has been drooping  lower and lower!  It's been a subject of curiosity to me for the past week or so, but only in passing.  The original shed that was the nucleus of the barn was built under a huge, old, dying oak tree.  Even in death, the skeleton of this giant has been a thing of beauty and the mass of barren branches has continued to provide a measure of shade and shelter for the girls.  Over time, I've had what appeared to be dangerous branches removed...in fact, Larry trimmed some that rubbed on the roof just last week.  Yesterday I noticed that the drooping branch in question has come low enough in just the past few weeks for the goats to scratch their backs on, and I thought, "Well, isn't that odd."  Evidently that has been perking in my subconscious, and I think I have the answer.  The weight of the tree itself and the burrowing under the roots by the squirrels who aren't hanging out waiting for brunch are combining to bring this ancient one down...on top of the barn!  Now I've got to find an arborist quickly before the winter winds and rain cause it to fall and squash the barn, the goats, and me!

Just yesterday I told a friend that I do not believe age brings wisdom, but it does give one perspective.  Coming right on the heels of the septic tank saga, this latest crisis might make me throw my head back and howl...and that's a tempting thought.  However, fighting a riptide in life only makes it worse, doesn't solve the problem, and can pull you under.  So far, no one and no thing has been hurt.  It's only money.  And I won't have to worry about firewood for a couple of years.  As my daddy used to say, "What will it matter a hundred years from now."  That's perspective.