Ed's finest hour

Last night the s.o. and I played cards by candlelight. Not because it was a romantic, fun thing to do (although it was), but because our power was out. After Hurricane Frances cleaned Florida's clock and was downgraded to a plain old tropical storm, it headed northward through Alabama, spawning three days (so far) of nasty weather to the east. We've had spattering, pouring, drenching rain, combined with 40- and 50-mile-per-hour winds.

Yesterday, while walking the dogs, I noted that we had lots of branches down in the yard. Little branches, sure, but also a lot of giant boughs that would kill you if they fell on you. (We're extremely lucky that none of these have fallen on the house.) So far there has been no time to clean them up, because the weather has been horrible and only an insane person would stand around outside and cut up branches.

So this morning, I can't say I was really surprised to see our nutjob neighbor Ed out in his yard with a chainsaw. The roar of the engine echoed down the block as he carved away at the downed limbs in his front yard. Not only that, but he was trying to burn the cut-up wood. There was a giant pile of brush and logs next to his driveway, smoldering damply in the rain. There still is, because in the end it never really caught fire.

As I write this, the rain has lessened to a mere mist. As the cars splash past on the rural highway and the water runs off in the gutters, we can hear a familiar sound: Ed is mowing again.