![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
June 11: Amputated oak, flash floods
Jun. 11th, 2010 08:46 pmI think my favorite tree on campus is a huge white oak on a corner near the human resources building. The white oak is my favorite oak to begin with, and this tree is all alone with no other trees around, so it seems extra precious. In an area with a lot of pavement and ugly, practical brick and metal buildings, one big old tree is so different from no trees at all.
Today as I was walking toward it on my way to my office, I altered my route by a few feet to avoid some mud, and I saw a side of the tree I've never noticed. It was like looking at a cross-section of a tree: the branches on one half of the tree had all been cut off to keep them away from a power line. It wasn't recent, and the leaves had grown up around the missing branches so that it didn't appear scarred. But from that angle, it looked like it had a huge bite taken out of it. It gave me that pang you sometimes get when you suddenly realize a person you've been talking to is missing a limb, or is blind.
*
The sudden rain from yesterday kept coming all night. It was enjoyable, despite the headache the low atmospheric pressure gave me. Summer rain can be such a relief. But we woke this morning to learn that overnight, dozens of people sleeping at a campground were swept away by rising rivers. Sixteen have been confirmed killed so far, many more missing. I'm quite familiar with the river; I swam in it during college and knew a lot of people who rafted and hiked in the same area that's currently being combed by rescue and recovery workers. It's fairly remote, hilly, with some deep washes and steep bluffs. It's beautiful and quiet.
...Until the water's rising freakishly fast and there are no radios or even a cell phone signal to get a warning to you, I'm sure some are thinking. I have a lot more to say about this, but I'll wait until this morning's events are less immediate.
Today as I was walking toward it on my way to my office, I altered my route by a few feet to avoid some mud, and I saw a side of the tree I've never noticed. It was like looking at a cross-section of a tree: the branches on one half of the tree had all been cut off to keep them away from a power line. It wasn't recent, and the leaves had grown up around the missing branches so that it didn't appear scarred. But from that angle, it looked like it had a huge bite taken out of it. It gave me that pang you sometimes get when you suddenly realize a person you've been talking to is missing a limb, or is blind.
*
The sudden rain from yesterday kept coming all night. It was enjoyable, despite the headache the low atmospheric pressure gave me. Summer rain can be such a relief. But we woke this morning to learn that overnight, dozens of people sleeping at a campground were swept away by rising rivers. Sixteen have been confirmed killed so far, many more missing. I'm quite familiar with the river; I swam in it during college and knew a lot of people who rafted and hiked in the same area that's currently being combed by rescue and recovery workers. It's fairly remote, hilly, with some deep washes and steep bluffs. It's beautiful and quiet.
...Until the water's rising freakishly fast and there are no radios or even a cell phone signal to get a warning to you, I'm sure some are thinking. I have a lot more to say about this, but I'll wait until this morning's events are less immediate.