The wind howled. The tree snapped. She rounded the corner to see it sitting squarely on the 105 year old roof. She called saying that it was there. He said he'd come look. She called a minute later to say that it was in the kitchen, too. He dropped everything and ran, dinner abandoned on the table, the girls hastily ushered into the truck. Hours and hours of painstaking work, a labor of love under threat.
No one was harmed, and for that we were all endlessly thankful.
Helpful friends watched my table and assured me they would pack it up as I hurried to get from Boise to home. I was nervous all the way there as I waited to see for myself. Tears of relief as it occurred to me what could have happened. How awful it could have been.
The atrocious mess. Every surface of her newly unpacked home covered in plaster dust and silt. A limb protruding from the kitchen cabinet. A tree through the roof, and all the walls still in tact. A tribute to the way it was done back then.
First Thursday ended abruptly, but all is well, or will be soon.