Hurricane Isaias was supposed to be a direct hit. The early tracks had it coming straight for us, so we did the usual storm routine—move the cars, eye the tall dead pine on the adjacent lot, and mentally rehearse the sound of branches hitting the roof. In the end, the storm shifted east and came ashore closer to Destin, leaving us with wind, some rain, and a very specific kind of suburban chaos.
Instead of the tall dead pine I’d been worried about for years, a completely different tree decided to make a dramatic exit. It snapped off right above the privacy fence and landed in our backyard. Somehow, the fence mostly survived, aside from a post that probably needed replacing anyway. The tree did manage to destroy our long-retired PVC cucumber trellis and take out part of the green chicken wire fence that separates the “former garden, now jungle” from the rest of the yard.
The dead pine is still standing, tall, proud, and very much dead. While I was out just before dark checking for fence damage, a fresh, still-closed green pinecone from another tree chose that exact moment to fall and nail me directly on the head. Perfect timing, perfect aim, and a headache to match.
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| Fallen tree in backyard after Hurricane Isaias |
Becoming a very reluctant lumberjack
Today’s adventure: turning that fallen tree into something I could drag or toss into the garden area. Armed with an axe. No chainsaw, no log splitter—just me, fifty-four years old, and a tool that makes you instantly respect anyone who ever built a log cabin by hand.
It took about five swings at this rotten pine for me to realize that the guys who felled live trees and built cabins were operating on a completely different level. They were younger, stronger, had significantly more stamina, and probably didn’t spend decades in a swivel chair. After a few solid attempts, I also understood why so many of those cabins were one-room structures. You don’t casually decide to add a bonus room when every log is a personal battle.
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| The “after” shot — proof that the tree is now at least slightly smaller. |
The soundtrack: “Suburban Lumberjack”
Because this whole episode felt like it needed a theme song, I had Google Flow Music write one about it: “Suburban Lumberjack.” The song calls it an eighty-foot pine, which is generous, but I’ll allow it. The first time I heard it, I laughed out loud at the “key of C” line because my back really was singing.
🎵 Suburban Lumberjack
The official soundtrack to losing a fight with a pine tree.
Favorite lines from the song
“My back is screaming in key of C
I am losing a fight against a tree”
“My wife came out with lemonade
She took one look at the dent I made”
The frontier life is clearly not calling, but for one storm and one weekend, I got to be a suburban lumberjack. And, as the brutally honest ending of the song says:
“That pine tree won
Back to my desk tomorrow morning”
One more thing before you go
On a serious note, we came out pretty well—lost power for about 17 hours (huge shout out to the linemen who got things running again quickly!), no real damage to speak of, and life will go on as usual. Others nearby were not so lucky, so keep them in your prayers as they work through loss (mostly property, some life) and the upheaval caused by a storm that formed quickly, shifted eastward, and sped up as it came ashore. Thanks also to the NHC and the national and local forecasters who kept us apprised as the track changed, even shifting landfall hours before arrival.
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