Kindling

On March 3rd, in a blog entitled Weekend, I mentioned that a thunderstorm made toothpicks of my weeping willow trees, leaving a mess of gigantic branches and small twigs everywhere. A few weeks later, I'm simultaneously pleased and confused to report that someone has cleaned up this mess.

I say "someone" because it wasn't me or my wife, and we, frankly, have no idea who did it. And while I'm delighted that this woodland bandit struck on my property and spared me a Saturday of kindling and chainsawing, I must admit that the gesture leaves me with an uneasy feeling. Mostly because I really don't speak to any of my neighbors, certainly not enough to warrant any anonymous favors.

If you are reading this, kind Sir or Madam, please accept my sincerest thanks for skulking onto my property like a ghoul and stealing a pile of sloppy, soggy, splintering branches while we weren't watching. I hope this wood warms your bamboo hut, or restocks your woodcarving pile, or (if you happen to be a giant squirrel or pterodactyl) makes for a lovely nest in which you'll lay your Springtime eggs!

(By the way, if you aren't a giant squirrel or pterodactyl: Creepy!)