How about that windstorm, huh? What. A. Day. High fives all around for the utility crews, who are probably still sleeping after that marathon. I wasn’t getting any shuteye once that freight train wind started rolling through. I went outside for a peek at 4 a.m. and discovered my truck underneath a spruce tree.

That was enough distraction to let the dog I was supposed to be watching for a friend slip outside and run off into what looked and sounded a lot like the Wizard of Oz tornado scene. So I set out at a brisk jog at four in the morning, trying to keep this husky in sight while pieces of Enterprise flew by and loose roofing shingles on many houses flipped up and down like keys on a player piano. “Sit” and “stay” just made the dog run faster, so when she paused to sniff some landscaping I went for a flying tackle that ended against somebody’s rosebush. Neither the dog or I got scratched, because my new down jacket got all the thorns. This was all before daybreak. Or coffee.

Walking home from that invigorating start to the day, with one side of my expensive coat getting smaller and blowing away in the breeze, I got a text from Paul at Winding Waters River Expeditions in Joseph with a photo showing how most of the mural I painted just wasn’t there anymore. It seemed like a good idea at the time to paint it on panels and screw those to the building. But that was before I knew the wind was an art critic.

Still walking home, I took inventory of the carnage. Street sign snapped off. Fences blown over. Aspen grove at Terminal Gravity listing to port. There was enough light when my homestead started coming into view that I could now see a hole in the sky where another big spruce tree used to be. My main concern was that my new metal roof had not run away with the mural. This is the roof I had already ordered twice, after letting the first batch sit outside too long and get wet, which causes the paint to peel off. Because roofing is strictly for indoor use until you take it out of its packaging and expose it to outdoors. If I had turned that corner and seen my second new roof missing, I probably would have just kept on walking and would now be living in a cave in Hells Canyon.

Luckily the roof was still on. Here’s some fun facts about Engelmann Spruce. They’re notoriously shallow-rooted and apparently do not want me to own any vehicles. My Toyota pickup was underneath one spruce, but this other tree really outdid itself by scoring a two-for-one, landing directly on my classic car collection. True, the value of these two rigs is mainly sentimental. But, c’mon. The 1966 Ford F100 Custom Cab pickup I got from my dad and learned to drive in: smooshed. Next to the Ford is Grandma Helen’s sweet 1967 Buick Electra. It’s got everything you could want in a car. Fins. Fender skirts. 8-track player. Chrome Kleenex holder. 430 cubic inches of pure thunder beneath the hood. And now a tree on top.

Yeah, well, you forgot about my Jeep, Engelmann spruce and wind. Better luck next time. Actually, I don’t mean that. Please don’t smash the CJ7. Let’s just let bygones be bygones.

Six trees are now bygone on my place. One took the powerline with it. The root wad of a tipped-over juniper pried my footbridge up and out of the creek when it went over. I mean, that’s just insult to injury is what that is. You pulled the bridge out of the water? Really? Crikey.

Many thanks to the folks who found and returned the Winding Waters mural panels. One of them was in Vermont, I think. I heard another turned up in a trawler net in the Atlantic. They’re a little scuffed up but we’ll just call that patina.

At least nobody got seriously hurt, that I know of. My pal Andy had a close call with an airborne sheet of roofing metal zinging by. And I heard that a contractor got blown off a roof while trying to batten things down. I heard all sorts of things during and after that storm. Lots of chainsaws. And lots of news updates, mostly from strangers driving around on the damage viewing circuit.

The only positive spin to the wind damage I can think of is owning a convertible Buick Electra once I cut the crumpled roof off. Then I’m going to plant some new Engelmann Spruce trees in the yard so I can drive over them with the Buick. See how they like it. Bullies.

Jon Rombach is a local columnist for the Chieftain. His hobbies include pounding out dents in old cars with a mallet made from Engelmann Spruce.