When Your Neighbor's Tree Decides to Visit Your Yard

You ever wake up after a big storm and think, “Well, at least my yard is going to be okay. I don’t have any trees.”

That was my first mistake.

I don't have a tree in my yard. Not one. I intentionally skipped the whole “plant a giant tree next to my house” thing because I enjoy having a roof, power lines, and a relatively low-maintenance yard.

But apparently, my neighbor's tree had other plans.

The storm rolls through, the wind starts howling, branches are flying around, and eventually one of those big branches decides it has had enough of life.

CRACK!

Down it comes.

And where does it land?

My yard.

Of course it does.

Apparently, trees don't understand property lines.

I walk outside expecting to find a couple sticks and leaves scattered around. Instead, I've got what looks like a small logging operation happening in my backyard.

And just to make things more interesting, that giant branch didn't simply fall into the yard.

Nope.

It decided to take out my cable line on the way down.

Because apparently the storm wasn't satisfied with just giving me yard work.

It wanted to make sure I couldn't sit inside afterward and watch TV while complaining about the yard work.

Now I'm standing there looking at this giant branch thinking:

“I don't even own a tree, and somehow I'm now responsible for tree removal AND cable repair.”

That's when the cleanup begins.

First, you start dragging branches around.

Then you start cutting branches.

Then you discover that the branch you thought would take five minutes to cut is apparently made out of reinforced concrete.

You cut one piece.

Then another.

Then another.

Pretty soon your yard looks like you've been harvesting firewood for the winter.

Leaves are everywhere.

Twigs are everywhere.

Branches are everywhere.

And somehow there are leaves in places where leaves should have no physical ability to reach.

You sweep.

You rake.

You pick things up.

You drag things away.

Then the wind blows another three leaves across the yard.

Thanks.

At that point, you're no longer cleaning up debris.

You're negotiating with nature.

Eventually, you get the big stuff cleaned up and stand there looking at the pile.

And that's when you realize:

“I don't even know what I'm going to do with all this.”

The tree isn't mine.

The branch isn't mine.

But apparently the debris has officially become my responsibility.

And somewhere along the way, my cable company is probably looking at the service outage thinking:

“Yep. Somebody's tree did something stupid again.”

Meanwhile, I'm looking at the cable line thinking:

“I didn't even have a tree!”

That's the frustrating part about storms.

You can do everything right.

You can have no trees.

You can keep your yard cleaned up.

You can mind your own business.

And some tree three houses away can still decide:

“Today's the day I'm getting involved.”

So after a storm, if you see somebody outside dragging branches around, don't assume they're doing some landscaping.

They might just be cleaning up the consequences of a tree that doesn't even belong to them.

And if their cable is hanging down too?

Just leave them alone.

They're probably trying to figure out whether to call the cable company, the tree company, the neighbor...

or just sit in the yard and stare at the mess until they develop a new personality.

Storm cleanup: Because apparently you don't need a tree to own a whole bunch of tree problems.