French Kicks
Or staying in touch through trees
With snow falling by the load and winds gusting up to 130 km/h over the weekend, a tree fell in my yard.
One of my trees. A 40-foot evergreen; it just keeled over. Thankfully, nobody was hurt and nothing was damaged. Yes, a forty foot high tree fell and nothing was damaged. I have a big yard.
But I did take this collapse as an omen. An occurrence of portent that, ultimately, signified that there was a new song by the French Kicks out there to be found, listened to, and treasured. For you see, when the tree’s trunk snapped, it sounded like a loud handclap. When it hit the ground, snow tumultuously lifted into the air, like the jangle of guitars giving shape to a song, the ensuing puff wafting gracefully over the ground like a swarthy, polished pop tune filling the air, vaporous and passing like a daydream. I saw the signs, I read them, I understood.
So the tree, that lofty evergreen, now horizontal and firewood-bound, collapsed so I could know of a new French Kicks song. Thank you, tree. Thank you.
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Comments
March 19th, 2008 | 9:51 am
[…] That tree is still laying in my yard. All forty feet of its former glory extended across the width of the snow-covered lawn. It’s out of its place, it looks discarded; there’s an aberrancy which surrounds a fallen tree, something intrinsically primal which disturbs you inside. The fact that there’s a hole in the row of trees where it once stood doesn’t help stifle that. When I look out that way, I’m not supposed to see the pavement of the street, the neighbour’s rooftop, or that part of the sky. Those things had been camouflaged for so long you sort of figure you weren’t supposed to see those things, now that you do. […]
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