How to Get a Cloud Out of a Tree

These Things Do Happen | Chapter 16

I was sitting on my porch this morning, feeding peanuts to the squirrels, when I looked up and noticed a small cloud stuck in the tree in my front yard.

It was tangled in the top branches, I could see it was struggling, trying to break free to no avail.

I stepped out into the yard and went under the tree for a closer look. The cloud was all grey and the branches around it were all wet, like it had been crying. The poor little thing was obviously terrified and rightfully so - I don’t know how long a cloud can survive stuck in tree, especially if it is weeping away all of its precipitation.

I climbed up the tree, got up underneath the poor little cumulus critter and tried to give it a push, but my hand went right through and the little cloud let out a pathetic bellow, “Phweeee - phooey - phooooble” I quickly drew my moist hand back, I didn’t want to hurt the little fella. (Sorry, it could have been a girl, I don’t know, do clouds have genders? Probably somebody thinks they do.)

I climbed down and decided I needed professional help. I went online and Googled “How to get a cloud out of a tree”, all that came up was a bunch of really weird clown porn and some completely unrelated ads for items I had talked about to a friend twenty minutes ago. . . I was on my own.

“What moves clouds?” I thought.

“Well the wind of course” I thought again.

One more thought and I may be on to something, good ideas always come in thoughts of three.

My third thought was, in fact, a doozy; I would use my leaf blower and blow the little critter to freedom.

I grabbed the leaf blower from the shed, plugged in a long extension cord and made my way to the front yard. When I got to the tree I looked up above and I noticed a bigger cloud hovering over the tree with a very concerned look on it’s face. “Must be the mama”. I thought. Once again, I had made a very inappropriate gender assumption about the cloud, but fortunately for me, clouds are not known to be hung up on pronouns like us humans are these days. This mama just wanted her baby free to roam the skies again.

I stepped under the tree, the poor little cloud was now shivering and leaking all over the branches, he was getting smaller, no time to waste.

I angled the leaf blower underneath and to the left picking the best possible angle to release this sad fluffy prisoner into the ether. I hit the trigger and a gust of air blasted through the branches. The little cloud bustled and wiggled and finally broke free from the clutches of the unintentionally abusive foliage.

The little cloud floated up and up and joined it’s mother. Both of the clouds turned a bright glowing white as though expressing an emotion of glee at their safe reunion. As the two happy clouds floated safely away they sprinkled a warm shower of drops that smelled of lilacs and tasted like honey on my tongue.

This is how clouds say “Thank You”