The girls and I had a wonderful Saturday. In this glorious summer warmth we went to a 4-H fair and enjoyed seeing children displaying various animals they had raised. I was secretly hoping Arielle and Liana would not suddenly be fascinated by animal husbandry and want their own goat or chicken--or worse--a pig. But no, the best part for them was the quilt display and fabric sale--a dollar a bag for all the scraps you could stuff in a bag. We also found out about practically free sewing lessons for kids. God is so faithful to open new doors when the old ones have closed.
We drove home in a jovial mood, making plans for the fabric treasures--furs, corduroys, fake suede and double knits. (What in the world do you make out of double knits??) The girls envisioned their dolls with dozens of new outfits. With those thoughts, we came home to a disaster on our street.
A crowd of neighbors stood watching a tow truck grappling with a trash truck. Two telephone poles had crashed down across the street, one of them directly in front of our property. Power lines were strewn across the yards, ripped from their mountings on the houses. Shattered electrical equipment littered the area. Police ribbons prohibited us from getting close. While we were gone, chaos and violence visited our little street. A trash truck lost its brakes. The men all jumped out as the truck careened unmanned from the top of the hill. The truck crashed into one pole, which pulled down the other and disconnected us all from the phone and electricity.
The rest of the story will have to wait, as I write from the library with two girls at my feet.
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