Despite my protests that I loved the curly willow tree in the backyard (which we grew from a little branch our neighbors gave us), Pete went out yesterday to chainsaw it down. Apparently the fact that it is damaging our house is more important than my love for its appearance.
Right as I was getting ready to leave for work, Strider came running downstairs saying, "A tree just fell on my ceiling!" We raced outside to find this scene:
The first words out of my mouth, in response, were, "I'm going to get the camera."
A few minutes later, the scene had developed into this:
Greeeeaaat. And soon I was going to be late for work!
Strider stepped up, literally, though, and was able to lift the chainsaw down (and not get smashed by a falling tree) and then we helped Pete navigate down the step-ladder.
When I left, Pete had assembled the kids to start removing some of the carnage, but the tree was still on the roof.
All of this was made much funnier to me --and to Pete -- because he had apparently, just this past weekend when he was with my brothers and dad, given a big speech about how he always gets trees to fall in the right spots. As he lamented, "Pride comes before a fall, I guess."
In this case, that was proven quite literally!