They stood nearby planning, plotting, pining.
They warned us last April. As a tornado passed through, they sacrificed one of their own to send a chilling message to us through the Dollhouse. Landing just inches away and pushing her from her foundation, they taunted, “Next time it could be you, or even your big friend up there with the electricty and running water and the people inside.”
Though the summer and winter they dropped hints and brown pine needles. They leaked secrets and green goo. It didn’t take long to figure what they had in mind.
“Just make it through the winter,” they thought. “Just make it to spring.”
Between March’s lions and lambs and April’s showers and flowers, the rotting, dying, evil pines hoped to fall fall fall out of their misery and into our master bathroom. But we beat them at their own game. We called Bob and Bob sent men and the men over-powered the trees and won the battle. Many wounded soldiers were carried off when it was done — an ugly, muddy mess.
But today there is sunshine. Sunshine for the dogwoods and other who could not see the light of day for brown pine needles. Today there is a clear view of the southern sky for the satellite dish who had battled first-hand with the mighty trees.