I was out on the front lawn with Charlie yesterday afternoon when I noticed an enormous branch that had broken off and gotten hung up on a maple tree. The jagged end of the branch was pointing straight down about five feet off the ground, very close to the horse chestnut tree that Charlie and Cubby have been playing under lately.
I had a vision of two small boys I know whacking that branch with sticks and it crashing down on them, possibly impaling one of them with that jagged end.
So I told Charlie to stand over by the driveway while I investigated closer and determined whether it was securely lodged in the tree or just swaying precariously up there.
Here's where I caution you to not do what I did.
What I should have done was gotten a long rope to toss around the branch and yank on it from a safe distance. What I actually did was walk right up to it, grab it with my hand, and yank on it to see how secure it was.
It was not secure.
It came crashing down immediately. Thankfully, not on top of my stupid head, because the bulk of it was in front of me. It did, however, wrench my right shoulder* pretty good, scrape up my whole left forearm, and leave a few deeper gouges in both hands.
But at least it didn't kill or maim one of the children, right? Right. Idiot.
My injuries are mostly superficial and not worth mentioning (except I just mentioned them in about, uh, six paragraphs), besides the fact that they are going to make it hard to deal with all the peaches I have.
No, not the peaches in the bushel basket. Those are already pureed and in the freezer. I now have the same amount of peaches again, because our Very Elderly Neighbor called on Sunday and said he had more I could come pick up and . . . well, I'm a sucker, I guess. And a glutton for punishment.
Peeling all those nice acidic peaches with cuts all over my hands will probably be pretty punishing, but we're going to be all set for peach yogurt this winter.
Maybe this time I'll be smarter than my branch-pulling self and wear gloves. Maybe.
* Luckily, it was not the shoulder I use to carry Jack around. I found out at the doctor's office yesterday that he weighs 22.5 pounds, which is a lot to be hauling around even with an uninjured shoulder. He is also 31 inches long. That is insane for a nine-month-old.