Just when we thought we had won the war against the big red oak trees on our property – surprise – the trees (OK, ONE tree) struck back.

If you’re a faithful reader of this column (God bless you) then you know about the tree war. The die was cast when the missus and I were at home one Saturday minding our own business when the doorbell rang. So I opened the door and there stood one of my neighbors.

“Does Vici know about her car?” the neighbor asked.

Now there are several different kinds of responses you can have to that question, depending on who asks it and in what context it’s asked. I resisted kidding that, “Yeah, it’s the little red one parked in the driveway,” because she (the neighbor, not my wife) had a serious look on her face. So I seriously (well, as seriously as I could, I’m not really a very serious person because I can pretty much find humor in ALMOST anything) answered, “No, what about her car?”

To which the seriousfaced neighbor responded, “A big limb just fell out of the tree it’s parked under and broke out her back window.”

OK, I said ALMOST anything, remember?

So I informed my wife, who was painting, or hanging curtains, or doing one of those other wifely kinds of things that married women like to do (note to all you guys considering marriage, the cutesy outfits and running off to have fun every weekend are just a front because once they get that ring, they’re suddenly wearing paint-splattered coveralls and are the featured guest on This Old House) on Saturdays.

I tried to break it to her gently, in the most soothing words I could find.

“Hey honey,” I said, “a tree just fell on your car.”

But I must say she took it well. I just wish I had waited until she had gotten down off that ladder before I told her. But, not to worry, we finally got her revived (although I was a little worried about how her left leg was folded back under her hip) and we walked (well, she kinda LIMPED) outside to survey the damage.

It was bad. It looked like someone had lobbed a mortar round in there and hit her car square in the back window.

So my wife declared war on the trees on our property, particularly any that are in range of striking the house or our personal belongings should the trees or any limbs on them fall in the future. The next day she called a tree guy who showed up in a big bucket truck and brought large grinding-machine-on-wheels and some smaller wood-removing kinds of devices and the war was on.

When the war ended about four days later, the score was WIFE 5, TREES 0.

And then last weekend came the reprisal. Once again, it was on a Saturday (I’m not exactly sure why trees are more likely to attack on Saturday but I think it’s because they know you can’t get a tree guy out right away on a weekend). I was sitting in the den in my recliner exercising (I would raise the 16-ounce bottle of Diet Coke slowly to my lips, then slowly lower it back to the table; it’s great for the forearms) when my wife called from the kitchen.

“Look out in the back yard by the dogwood tree.”

So I did.

We have a fence that borders our back yard and behind that fence are trees -- LOTS OF TREES. We own a few feet of the property beyond the fence line (I like to have myself a buffer). Anyway, there was a red oak tree near the fence that was, for the most part – well, actually IT WAS COMPLETELY – dead. It had dropped a huge rack of limbs (“rack of limbs” is a technical term; if you call your tree guy and tell him you have a “rack of limbs” down in your yard, he will go to DEFCON 5, or DEFCON 1, whichever is the bad one).

The initial “rack of limbs” missed our fence but it left a big mess in the yard. However, the second “rack of limbs” DIDN’T miss the fence. It crushed several feet of it and almost got the gate too. So we called our tree guy, who once again responded with his big bucket truck and large grinding-machine-on-wheels and some smaller wood-removing kinds of devices and that smart-alecky tree was reduced to a pile of chips and bark in no time (OK, actually it was a few hours, but the point is we won again).

And you’ll be happy to know that my wife’s broken leg is mending just fine.

Klonie Jordan (editor@gaffneyledger.com) is executive editor of The Gaffney Ledger.