We Are the Bumpasses!

       I’ve always admired beautiful yards.  I wish I had one, but I don’t. 

      

       The ornamental pond in our side yard belches dead fish every spring.  What isn’t floating is decomposing.   Last summer, we put Kenny’s sandbox next to it.  If old matchbox cars were money, then we would be loaded.  And if we were loaded, well, then we’d probably wouldn’t have that old pond any way.

       Our lawn decorations consist of bicycles, Nerf guns, and plastic recyclables.  I have noticed, however, for the first time in 15 years we have tulips.  I’m not quite sure how that happened; I’m thinking it must be a sign of the apocalypse. 

       During last week’s storms, John and I woke up just before five to hear the loudest crash we’ve ever heard during our time on Morgan Street. And this time, it came from outside the house.

       “What was that?!”  I asked, as I urged John out of bed with my feet.  After a dramatic pause, he said,

       “A tree.”

       Silence.

      A tree? 

      Last I knew, the next-door property owner had cut down all adjacent trees to give us an unobstructed view of the gas station.  But there it was and it took up the entire back yard.  It was the most enormous ash tree that I never before noticed.  And beneath it was the kids’ swingset, a rather tired looking picket fence, and some of those bicycles we use as lawn decoration. 

         “Quick!”  I shouted.  “Wake the kids!  We need to put our most precious stuff under that tree!”

Suddenly Sam was standing in our room with wild eyes and I think sprouting a few more freckles than he had the night before.  Of all the Thompson kids, he was the only one who had heard it.  We quickly headed to Madison’s room—suddenly the room with the view.  It was amazing.  Our backyard was all tree.  And while we conferred, he snored. 

So this past week, between making calls to the insurance company, tree removal services, and at large rental property owners, I just kept pondering. . . How is it that John and I are the only people I know who can have a disaster occur that actually makes our yard look better? 

And Madison, now that he’s fully awake, may have found his future profession--taking photos for insurance claims.  With his ipod touch in hand, he has posed Kenny in a multitude of heart wrenching scenes. When questioned about his loss and and if he’s sad, Kenny replies, “Nope, we’ll just get a new one.” 

Get in line, kid.  The claims adjuster says he can’t physically make it out to look at our damage until mid-to-late May. 

Yep, I’m thinking there’s still plenty of time to shove lots of broken trinkets under that proverbial Christmas tree.