An explosive morning

The house on the corner exploded this morning. Literally.
There was a huge boom about 3 a.m. and our apartment shook. I know this because T. told me. I slept through it, drowsily waking when T. went to the window and came back reporting massive flames. Bleary-eyed, he called 911 while I tried to work out if I needed to start gathering up our wedding pics. In the end, we donned our shoes and ran onto the street to see if anyone needed help.
If they did, there was nothing we could do. The place was an utter fireball, the inferno reaching high into the sky and sending embers floating over the neighbouring homes. 

The remaining wall, several hours later

Windows blasted out of their frames lay on the street, glass littered the road, and one car parked nearby had a shattered window from the blast. Within about 20 minutes, the roof collapsed and the whole thing disintegrated.

T. was on his blackberry, filing a short hit for the newspaper's website. I momentarily wondered if I should get my camera, then decided against it. It just seemed so voyeuristic, especially as we didn't yet know if anyone was inside. (The house was empty, thankfully.) Of course, now I wish I had taken pics because it was just so damned strange and freaky an occurrence. Oh well.
Here's a photo of the smouldering debris, taken about 10 a.m. today. What had been a handsome 100+ year old home is now ruins, the immediate neighbours likely thanking their very lucky stars.

Firefighters hose the smoldering ruins of the house five-doors down, its window blown onto the footpath.

No word as yet on what caused the explosion, but a few people in the neighbourhood did smell gas yesterday morning. All we know for sure is that even the seemingly indestructible can disappear before your eyes.