I was on our back screen porch when the storm came, sudden, strong and hard, shortly after 9 p.m. Friday night.

I heard a way-too-loud crack and bolted, instinctively retreating back to the kitchen without stopping to think. Our porch has a canvas roof, and I was outta there. I fetched my camera from inside and, a few seconds later, saw that a huge branch of our ancient Scotch pine had been hit by lightning, and dropped in our yard a few feet away from where I'd been sitting.

It barely avoided the porch, the morning glories growing up twine at its edge, and the tomato plants in the sunny spot on the other side of the yard. It seems to be overhanging the marigolds at the edge of the deck bed, but they're still standing. Thanks, tree.

It will make for a sunnier yard, I suspect, on the west side. Nature sometimes steps in when the budget can't afford a tree guy, and sentiment won't let me prune the tree.

This was a close one.

More in the morning, when my camera and I have a better view of what happened.

Saturday morning:

What remains of the giant tree's fork.

Direct hit: Ripped away.

The stump became almost hairy as lightning peeled it away from the main trunk.

When I woke, Joe had already taken his power saw to the tree. An ancient stand of irises -- here when I arrived 20 years ago -- lies flattened in the exact center of the photo above, just a lighter shade of green suggesting they were ever there.

This could have been much worse, falling on the porch (on me) or on the house, or crumpling the fence and wreaking havoc in the neighbor's yard. Flattened irises, a half a clump of sedum, some sun-cherry tomato branches acutely bent over the rim of the wire cage. Even the barbecue and lawn furniture were spared. For once, lightning was polite as it thundered through.

And it smells a lot like Christmas here.

Update: After the lightning strike, we're almost unscathed