Wind, trees, and mindful raking

It was the oddest thing yesterday: no rain, hardly a cloud in the sky, but a wind storm ripped through southwestern Ohio with gusts up to 70 miles an hour. 200,000 Dayton residents still have no power, 24 hours later. Enormous trees toppled all over town. Two doors down, my neighbors lost both the biggest tree in their backyard AND the biggest tree in their frontyard. I would still be crying if I lost my yard's trees, but my neighbor is brave and gracious and talking about the new trees she'll plant. This is the same neighbor, a young woman with a two-year-old son, whose youngish husband suffered a stroke earlier this year. They are having more than their share, it seems to me. I sat in my family room for some time yesterday, during the height of the winds, watching the big tree right by our deck sway recklessly right down to its trunk. An astonishing sight. I willed it to stay upright. Please, I asked the tree. It did abandon some huge limbs in its fight, but it still stands. All of our trees made it. We never lost power and still have it. This is inexplicable, as most the businesses, schools, and homes in Dayton do not. We ran extension cords to our neighbors right next door and next to them, so they could plug in their fridges and watch the news for school closures. Our neighbor lost huge pieces of siding, and some of it was lugged back by another neighbor five houses down. Beavercreek schools (and all schools around here) were closed today, and they'll be closed again tomorrow. Jacob and Leah and the neighbor kids thought this was grand, and spent their day playing fort and elaborate spy games. The air was so perfectly still that I felt I must whisper outside--clearly the trees were exhausted. And mourning their fallen friends. Why wouldn't trees be aware of each other? So I quietly raked the branches and leaves beneath them--a sad job when the leaves are so perfectly green--all the while mindful of my great good fortune. Knowing that our wind storm was just the flick of Ike's tail, and that Ike stomped right through Texas. Such luck is humbling.