When a Tree Falls in the Forest

This sign is on the gate at the dog park.

That there might be more than a one in a million chance of getting hit on the head by a falling tree seemed preposterous to me. I always figured it was the County Parks’ risk management people who insisted on the sign. There must be hell to pay if somebody’s head gets cracked open by a wobbly cottonwood or aspen. (I pretend to know my trees, but I really don’t.) Anyway, the sign always seemed ridiculous, cartoonish.

We’re grown. Do we really need a sign warning us about the possibility of falling trees?

I guess so.

The tree didn’t fall on us. It had already fallen before we arrived. There were no injured people within sight. That doesn’t mean there weren’t any – they may have all run off to the hospital which is, conveniently, right across the street from the dog park and the adjoining senior center. There is also a cemetery across the street next to the hospital, in case, you know, things don’t work out.

So, of course, it right away occurs to me that the sign with its dire warning and the actual fallen tree could be taken as a metaphor for what’s happening in our country. We were warned. And here we are with trees falling one after another. Whole forests. It’s crazy.