I came home today to find a crew in my front yard. Cutting limbs away from the power lines. I walked out to greet them and the chief told me, apologetically, that he had to cut the limbs.
I told him I really didn't care if he cut them off smooth at the ground. I have no real love for pine trees and there doesn't seem to be a shortage in Louisiana. He could cut them all, as long as he hauled them off.
Trees are a blessing sometimes, but when the occasional ice storm comes through, or a big wind knocks one over, your electricity goes out. I'm agin' that. Yeah, I have the ability to build a fire to keep warm and I have my propane stoves to cook, but I'd just as soon the lights stayed on.
What that crew leader didn't know was that I am the guy who raised hell at CLECO last month. It seemed everytime the wind changed direction we were losing power to the house. That royally chapped my behind. I started calling and politely asking to talk to the next boss in line. I kept calling until I talked to some guy who could get it done.
I love a stately tree. The engineering that went into building such an edifice could only have come from God. Oaks and pecan, ash and hackberry, they are all lovely to observe. Even the wind-whipped loblolly standing alone in a pasture speaks of torment and stress and perseverance against the odds.
Yet, if that lovely tree is standing near my power lines, it is only so much pulp. Cut that sucker down and haul it off.