overnight

 This happened:

More rain (of course) and perhaps a bit of wind last night brought down a tree that has been standing dead for quite some time.

Acer helping assess the situation from the Upper West Side.
Those pole beans suddenly look a lot closer, don't they, Acer?

 

The length of the bole extends all the way through the garden, east to west, compressing a section of perimeter fence which must be repaired as soon as possible. Fortunately it's the one place on the property where a gap in the six-foot perimeter paddock fence is inaccessible to the goats because of the inner garden fence of stock panels. Of course something non-goat could get into the garden from outside now - and I'm suddenly glad I didn't plant corn this year - but there's nothing I can do about that until the tree has been removed. Repairing that perimeter fence will be a job, because the it runs along the top of a steep bank covered in grape vines and precious milkweed and chin-high bee balm and many other plants. I will almost certainly do far more damage to plants than the treefall did.

Seriously. The falling tree had no way to avoid the pole bean rows and some of the jungle-like vegetation within the garden that has persisted through repeated torrential rains. A few of the stalwart catnip shrubs and fragile milkweed are on the ground. But it's quite marvelous the way the tree avoided - in some places, by inches - the raspberries, dill, okra, and blueberries. And the grapes. The beautiful grapes.

I am so grateful.

Right after taking this snap I very roughly patched that gap where the trunk is resting on the garden fence, so the goats will think twice before trying to climb up on the bole and use it for a bridge. (If just one goat gets through that gap, I can kiss the garden goodbye for 2023.) And I called a logger friend who said he will try to come by tomorrow before noon to have a look at removing the bole. I suggested he bring a friend. This is going to be at least a two-person job and I will be less than a half-person-worth of assistance. In fact, my entire role will probably be shouting - over the roar of a chainsaw - things like, "There's a tiny blueberry bush right behind you!" and "Please don't crush the raspberries, they are finally thriving!"

Fingers crossed.

~~~~~