A Swing and A Miss! Timber!

Every location has it ups and its downs.

As a relative newcomer to the Pacific Northwest, I left behind in Texas the hobgoblins of tornadic winds, common enough in the state. But those Texas Twisters effect relatively few when they touch down - but it you're one of the few, you would almost always loose your roof and if it's a bad day - you lose your life. When the winds blow strong in Washington, many tens of thousands are effected by loss of power caused by fallen trees into the power lines (sometimes for days) and sometime one can be affected by a fallen tree into the bedroom, but the loss of life is less severe.

My new home on The Pilchuck is surrounded by towering timber, a pleasant repose most times, but a potential threat of destruction when the winds come heavy. In Texas I've learned to track the weather and listen for tornado watches and warnings, tuning into the local meteorologist's doppler radar and taking the advice to seek shelter immediately when threatened by a spotted tornado. The best I get in Washington is an email from the Public Utility telling of predicted high winds and the possibility of extended power outages over a wide area. One is advised to take precautions, charge up electronic devices and stock up on supplies including candles.

And so it came to pass, the PUD issued a strong wind advisory and with it a warning to expected disruption of electric service. I take these warnings seriously. I made a long shopping list and put candles and candle holders on the top of my list. I returned home ahead of the coming forecast bomb cyclone (a severe and rapid drop of at least 24 millibars in atmospheric pressure in 24 hours). I was cooking dinner, the wind began to rattle the surrounding timber and my lights flickered. I then realized I'd forgotten to the candles on my shopping list. I figured it was a bad mistake, one I would regret. I finished the food on my plate and headed into town to buy a bunch of candles at the Dollar Store.

I returned home in complete darkness. With a flashlight I found my lighter, mounted my waxen sticks in their newly acquired holders and quoted the Book of Genesis: Let there be light. And I saw that it was good. Except with no electricity to run my devices, I piled on extra blankets and went to bed in the natural dark of this latitude at 7 PM. The power came back to my home 8 hours later. Sooner than I'd expected. Only wish I had the foresight to design the circuits for an emergency generator to be plugged in outback.

The next big wind event came calling the night of December 15, 2024. I read that 130,000 were without electric service, I was not one of them. I thought myself fortunate. I awoke to loud and violent sound at 4:20 AM. I started up in my bed and listened to the thunderous rush of wind howling like a runaway locomotive.

Timber! Alder tree falls just short of my house

A wind-topped tree lays in pieces
next to the driveway

Brushing my teeth in the gray morning light, I see that a large alder has come crashing down across the little crick that ephemerally flows behind the house, narrowly missing the corner laundry room wall and splintering trunk, limbs and twigs and it was slammed to the earth by fierce wind and rain. Perhaps this cracked and splintered tree fall was the sound that had awoken me. 

A good and true countrified-livin' man, such as myself, would have rushed out with his chainsaw and thanked the Lord for delivering such quantity of fire wood to my doorstep. Yet, I was otherwise occupied trying to finish a batch of chores to make the house ready for the wife who would be arriving in 3 days for a Christmas visit.

It looks like my firewood supply will have to wait for springtime before it is cut and stacked as cordwood. I will be doubly thankful this Christmas season for the fact that my power stayed on through the night and my house was untouched by falling destruction from the surrounding woods. 

I will hold to my good fortune and count this as a windfall Christmas miracle/gift of future firewood to warm the cockles of my home on some coming blustery winter eve.