Goodbye, old willow friend

April 2010

Here when we moved in 19 years ago, the weeping willow has been a constant source of pleasure, a backdrop to our lives, a graceful hanging canopy that defined our yard and partly sheltered it from view.
  
She was a towering queen among trees. Her graceful low hanging branches were a joy and a temptation to little ones who played at her feet. They tugged and pulled and tried to swing from her tender tendrils, which broke off and littered the grass much to Jeff's dismay.  


Ozzie, and Smokey before him, would scoot up the willow and gingerly move around like a tightrope walker, stepping from limb to limb with caution and ease, then slyly peeking out like a wild cat on a secret mission. 


On Thursday, Jeff announced the willow must come down. By Friday, it was gone. Diseased from age and weakened by lightning, the once glorious tree still appeared healthy on the surface, but was suffering on the inside. Down she came - a swift exit that made me sigh and think about the past. My kids played in her shadow, sat in her shade, walked by on their way to Elm School and back home again. 


Jeff and Nick understand why trees must come down. Katie and I not so much. It's partly about the privacy, partly about the shade and partly about a familiar sight that can never be replaced. It's mostly about the passing of time, moving on and moving out to broader horizons beyond Meadowbrook Lane. 

Before the fall 

The new view

Baby, the rain must fall

This is the second time this year that I've heard the term "100-year rain" bandied about by meteorologists.

The first was winter in Phoenix when the normally rugged clay-colored mountains turned a verdant green and roofs that seldom saw rain leaked. 

 And now. 

July 24 -North Madison Street in Hinsdale

Capping off our unusually rainy Chicago summer was another "100-year rain" which began early on the evening of July 23 and ended midday on the 24th. Seven inches of torrential rain fell in about 16 hours overflowing rivers and flooding streets and parking lots, homes and basements. 

We nearly missed this historical event. Jeff and I  were celebrating our 33rd on the 23rd and opted to ride the Burlington Northern downtown, partly so our Phoenix guests, Jerry and Lanie, could experience the train and partly, so we wouldn't drink and drive on our anniversary. 

July  23 - On the way to the restaurant
Ominous clouds in the background?

We walked a little more than a mile from Union Station to Frontera Grill/Topolobampo without a drop and were comfortably seated when the rain started. Or so we heard later.

We exited the restaurant after a multi-course dinner to quiet, but slightly damp Chicago streets, walked the mile or so back to Union Station and rode the train to Hinsdale where all was peaceful and calm. For the moment. The sky lit up with lightning and a thunderous sound as we walked a few blocks to the car, but once again the rain held off until we were safely inside the house. Then the heavens burst open and rained all night and the next morning too. 

Some anniversaries are more memorable than others, but never has one been linked to a historic event.

July 24, 2010 10:32 PM WGN Weather

City to dry out after historic rain, floods--July 2010 now 4th wettest

Hot Sox on a Hot Sunday

Oblivious to the camera 

The excitement was over by the time I pulled out my camera late in the game. The White Sox had surged into first place in the American League Central standings after a 15 - 5 win over the Kansas City Royals that included four homers in the third inning and a grand slam in the sixth. They were hot and we were hotter - thanks to Chicago's unrelenting heat and humidity. I couldn't let the day pass without some photos. 

Jeff catches me in the act

"Oh, mom!"
Nick plays along, while Katie ignores me.
"It's okay, I'll keep taking photos until you look over."

"Happy now?"
"Yes, very happy!"

Billy Pierce and friends

Charles Comiskey

Ozzie's Mysterious Overnight Adventure

Tuesday night was busy for everyone.  Jeff played softball. I went to a TribLocal citizen's journalist meeting. Katie and Kate went with Meg to check out the new tropical sno in town. Between our comings and goings, Ozzie slipped undetected into the night. We called and called, shined his laser and then called some more. I expected to hear Ozzie's loud meow in the middle of the night, but instead I heard thunder and rain. Oh, poor Ozzie.

Early the next morning, Ozzie was huddled on the front porch out of the rain, eager to come inside and looking none the worse for wear. Except his collar and all the medallions were gone. Oh, poor Ozzie. 

My first thought was that someone tried to steal Ozzie away in the middle of the night, and he escaped. But how many catnappers are out prowling in the rain for stray feline victims? Not many, I'm told. It's more likely his collar is hanging from a tree branch out of view until autumn leaves fall or Ozzie fesses up - whichever comes first.