The weather in our part of Tennessee has been, uh, interesting lately. We had a spell in February when the daytime highs reached 70 degrees. Then we had below-freezing days again, including one day with snow.
I assumed that was an unusual weather pattern. But shortly afterwards, I happened to be listening to a book titled Jack Hinson’s One-Man War, which tells the true story of a Tennessee farmer who was a Union loyalist during the Civil War … that is, until two of his young sons went hunting in the woods one day and were captured and executed by Union troops who assumed they were guerilla fighters – simply because they were carrying hunting rifles. After that, Mr. Hinson became a sniper who terrorized Union troops for the remainder of the war. He killed dozens of officers – including the lieutenant who ordered the execution of his sons.
Early in the book, the author mentions that “as often happens in February in Tennessee,” the days were as warm as June days in Iowa. The Yankees assumed spring had arrived and abandoned their heavy wool coats and blankets. A few days later, “as often happens in Tennessee,” winter returned and the Yankees were fighting battles in freezing rain and snow – without their wool coats.
Okay, so the “unusual weather pattern” has been around for at least 150 years.
Along with the wild variations in temperature, we had a tornado touch down in the area one day, and a couple of hellacious thunderstorms with high winds. Last Sunday, I was yanked out of a deep sleep by a BOOM! that seemed to rock the house. Boy, that one must’ve hit pretty close, I thought. Then I went back to sleep.
Turns out the BOOM! knocked down a big ol’ tree.
And as you can see, it landed rather close to the house.
Well, I can’t complain. Shift the angle a few degrees, and that tree would have bashed in the window of my office upstairs. Instead, it landed just outside Sara’s bedroom window. Naturally, the girls had to climb out the window and onto the tree.
So in addition to a film to finish, I now have a big-ass tree to cut up. It’s a pine tree, so we can’t use it for firewood. Chareva wants to save some of the long, heavy branches to serve as barriers around the chicken yards. Perhaps the local predators will be discouraged from digging under the fence. I’ve had to shoot two chicken-killing predators in the past few weeks, so I’m all in favor of discouraging them.
I also have to cut up the tree that fell in our side field awhile back. That one will become firewood.
Meanwhile, Alana took delivery of a new batch of chicks this week.
Some of them are Bantams, which means they’ll grow to perhaps a pound-and-a-half and look something like this:
I asked Alana what purpose a flock of itty-bitty chickens is supposed to serve. It’s not as if we’ll make big breakfasts from their eggs. She ended the discussion with “I wanted Bantams because they’re cute.”
Cute, sure, but I don’t envision them putting up much of a fight against predators. I’d best start cutting up that pine tree to provide Chareva with reinforcements for the chicken yards.
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