Posts Tagged ‘wind damage’
Early Test
The shade sail had barely been up for 24 hours when a line of thunderstorms closed in and weather watches and warning alarms started pinging our phones. As the wild-looking radar scans reached our area, I stepped outside to see if the sky looked as spooky as the Doppler readings and warning boxes on our screens. Rain had started to fall, but I was outside during an early pause in the precipitation.
When I came back inside, it was announced that our county was under a tornado warning for the next half hour. Did we run to the basement? No. We were hardly getting any rain, and there was very little wind. The sky seemed to be getting lighter instead of the expected threatening darkness.
When the line of storms had moved beyond us and all the warnings had expired, we went out for a walk. The asphalt of our driveway beneath the trees wasn’t even wet. Not only did we dodge a severe storm, but we didn’t even get enough rain to water our plants. We thought it was going to be a big test for the new canopy in the paddock. A thunderstorm wasn’t the test.
Behind this line of storms, we got slammed with heavy, gusting winds. Serious gusts. Suddenly, I heard the distinctive sounds of wood cracking and raced to look out our back doors to witness the top of one of our big maple trees crash to the ground in a cloud of shredding branches and leaves. Wind gusts were reported around 40mph.
The tornado didn’t materialize, but we still suffered the loss of a big tree. So many maple leaves that just popped open in the last week, snuffed out in an instant.
We went for a walk to check on the shade sail. It was holding its own amid the gusts.
I took some pictures showing more details of the turnbuckles we are using to anchor the canopy and how we ran the eyebolts diagonally through the corners of the posts.
Here is a shot from Wednesday showing the level of shade the canopy provides in the hot part of the afternoon. The old willow tree never offered that amount of solid UV protection in its heyday.
Speaking of the old willow, I noticed the other day that it is refusing to give up entirely.
I don’t think it will be offering much in the way of shade this summer, but it is probably making a statement about what it thinks of the new shade-maker taking its place.
First thing yesterday morning, we finished reconnecting the electric fence and took down the temporary barrier between the two paddocks, which gave the horses access to the automatic waterer again.
I’ve been waiting a long time to get that stretch of wood fence standing straight up again. It’s very rewarding to see.
Throughout the evening, I frequently checked on the canopy through our surveillance camera down at the barn as the wind continued to blow. It was definitely being pushed down or puffed up at different times, but not in a way that looked worrisome.
Since I’ve heard from several people with shade sails that they leave them up in the wind, I’m feeling less skittish about taking our chances with it.
Yesterday was a pretty dramatic first test. So far, so good.
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Not Unscathed
We did not get through the rest of the overnight Thursday without suffering wind damage. Cyndie counted at least 9 trees that toppled across our trails, a couple of which put serious pressure on fences.
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As I rolled my car to the end of our driveway in the early morning darkness, I spotted something out in the middle of the road that at first had me thinking it was a raccoon. Closer inspection revealed it to be our mailbox. The wind had pushed it right off the sliding guides of the base.
I picked up the mailbox and slid it back into position, wondering if it would just slip off again in the next powerful gust. (It didn’t.)
A mile or two down the road, I came to a giant tangle of tree branches completely covering both lanes. I was able to steer around it by driving off the pavement and rolling over a few small branches. The rest of the commute was free of any disruptions.
When Cyndie completed her survey of the corners of our property, she returned to find the tragic scene near the front door of the house.
Brings to mind the meme that circulated for a while after some big storms were ravaging the country: “We will rebuild.”
That’s humorous in this case because neither of us has made an effort to even tip it back up on its’ feet yet. Apparently, our rebuilding doesn’t start right away.
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Foulest Odor
Ever. It was absolutely the worst possible smell. I looked it up on a “rank bad smells” survey and there it was at the very top of the list: decaying animal. How did that smell get inside my house?
Who else? Delilah.
The sequence of horrible events went like this: Delilah and I had just completed a perfectly normal and wonderfully pleasant afternoon walk. She peed, she pooed, I picked eggs (six!), and we were on our way toward the front door.
Suddenly, Delilah darts to the far side of the driveway and snaps up something from amidst the thick ground cover over there. Then she gets that look on her face. I could tell she had something in her mouth, but I had no interest in challenging her over it.
We start our way around the garage, but then she turns to chomp on her prize. I see a brief flash of what looks like small feathers of a bird’s wing out the side of Delilah’s mouth. She swallows demonstratively and heads for the door, happy as can be.
At least I didn’t have to try negotiating a way to go inside without bringing that little snack along. That game never goes well. When I got to the steps, I caught a whiff of a dead animal and wondered if there was a deceased critter nearby that needed to get picked up.
Then I followed Delilah into the house and the smell was even stronger inside. She burped. Honestly, she did. That made the stench even worse! I thought I was going to be sick.
I had to struggle to get her harness unclipped without letting her snout get anywhere near me. It was awful. Horrendous. She had eaten the foulest dead bird and now it was in her stomach, and in our house.
Pequenita came running up to Delilah –not something she normally does– and appeared to take great pleasure in inhaling that noxious odor coming from the dog’s mouth. For that moment, suddenly they were true pals with a genuine shared passion.
I could barely wait to feed Delilah her dinner to replace the disgusting smell with the usual unpleasant smell of dog food.
Before that all that happened, we had accomplished a survey of the perimeter of our property for wind damage. We made out okay.
There were several small trees that had fallen across the trail, but nothing substantial tipped over.
Up by the house, I spotted some freshly sprouted oak leaves that had been blown off a branch.
That little batch was about the size of my hand, with each leaf barely as long as my fingers. Their lives ended way too soon.
It’s a shame because we need all the leaves we can get in order to purify the air around here and counterbalance Delilah’s foul contributions.
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Wind Wins
There is no question about who has the upper hand in our never-ending battle against the wind. I figure we are running about 2-to-1 against, between us and the wind in the years we’ve been here.
One of the more spectacular fails we experienced happened in 2014 when my first version of our wood shed was tossed over by a particularly blustery thunderstorm.
We have lost more trees and limbs to wind than I can count.
The winter wind has created havoc on our driveway numerous times, filling it with drifted snow that piles up multiple times the amount that actually falls out of the sky.
Monday’s blizzard of snow and wind racked up another victory over our feeble attempts to protect ourselves and our animals from the ravages of the gusts.
Cyndie reported that upon opening one of the doors to the barn yesterday morning, she needed to shovel a drift… on the inside.
The chicken coop suffered a more evenly distributed coating of snow on the inside. My ingenious design of the mesh ceiling beneath the roof panels was no match for blowing snow at the angle and rate mother nature dished out for hours on end.
I asked Cyndie what the chickens thought about the situation.
She reported a cacophony of upset hens.
I guess I understand their angst, after our forcibly removing them from the expansive barn (despite the one drift) to the extremely permeable confines of their small coop.
I bow to the prowess of the wind.
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Deer Down
My suspicions about the well-being of the wind vane on our roof proved to be warranted. From the ground, before the worst winds arrived last week, I’d thought the leaping deer looked a bit tilted. Not wanting to get up on the roof to check while weather was bad, I postponed inspection and then quickly forgot about it.
Yesterday, I was strolling back toward the house from the shop and spotted something strange laying on the roof. It was our wind vane deer!
Oops.
I find it interesting that, while subject to some amazing winds, the vane failed by simply tipping over and laying right beside the base.
Why didn’t it blow far away?
Maybe it came loose after the winds subsided, but then, what made it ultimately break off?
Based on the direction from which the wind was pummeling our house, it is possible that spot on the roof was shielded from direct pressure, but that seems intriguingly unlikely.
It’s a mystery to me.
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Relative Something 