Lightning

I woke with a start from a deep sleep.  The room was dark and lightning flashed outdoors.  I could hear the tinny sound of water rushing through the gutter. 

Eventually I went back to sleep.

The next morning, I woke at the usual time and dressed quickly for a walk around the neighborhood.  Near the end of the neighborhood loop, I saw strips of tree bark in the street.

The nearby yard was littered with wide swaths of bark and broken limbs.

Still standing, an oak tree, the centerpiece of the front garden, had been completely stripped of its bark. 

Lightning.

The sapwood was completely exposed, from the base of the tree to 60 feet up into the canopy.  Long smooth reddish fibers normally hidden under the bark, had passed food and water from roots to leaves, and distributed sugars created from photosynthesis.

It was rare to see it.  The leaves were still perfectly green but the tree would be dead soon.


The next day, I heard the tree cutter.  All that was left was a giant stump.

The dog of the house, Emma, enjoys lying on the stump.  Perhaps she can feel the life force that remains in the roots, as it will take a long time for the roots to completely die.  Or perhaps she likes sawdust, as her owner suggests.