We had 3 inches (at least) of snow last Monday morning. I’m a big fan of snow in the winter, but in late spring, not so much.
It was unexpected.
It caused a lot of damage.
It was beautiful, but not the beauty we long for in spring!
Many trees couldn’t handle the load of fresh, wet snow. Early Monday morning, I heard trees crunch and break. I spent hours getting the snow off our trees and bushes, helping them release the weight of the unexpected burden of late-season snow. I saved the trees in our yard and for some neighbors. I couldn’t do anything for all the “wild” trees along the creek that edges our neighborhood. I heard them breaking while raising my weary arms to get the snow off the trees I could reach with my golf club and long pole.
Tuesday, after the spring storm, I went for my usual walk along the creek path. There were tangles of branches and downed trees seemingly everywhere. The north side of the creek was unpassable because of all the trees and limbs lost in the storm.
On an up-close level, seeing all the destruction was overwhelming in the middle of the path. It felt like so much was lost, so much was destroyed, and so much damage everywhere.
When I left the path and was back on the sidewalk, I glanced around. What I saw stopped me in my tracks. When I stepped back and took in the whole scene, the tree line hadn’t changed; the view was the same as it had always been. Up close, it felt like everything had come apart, but the view was as it’s always been from a distance.
I’ve been thinking about that moment all week. What felt like destruction wasn’t. A few branches fell, and a few trees toppled. Maybe the branches that fell were already damaged or weak? Perhaps the roots of the tree that fell weren’t deep? Maybe it was part of a needed pruning?
The past few years have been difficult in the world. A pandemic (!!), political upheaval, and systems that seemed like fail-safe pillars, have turned out to be weak and vulnerable. Paying attention is hard right now.
I wondered when I looked back and realized that view hadn’t changed, despite all the down trees, if there was something to learn on a cultural level? The things that matter are still vital. Love, kindness, sacrifice, concern, and compassion, those virtues are strong; they weather every storm.
As the days have passed since the storm, tree limbs and whole trees have been taken care of, some spring flowers have bounced back, and others have faded to leave room for summer flowers, which are coming soon. Still, budding leaves that seemed frozen on Monday and Tuesday have rejuvenated and seem like they will make a full appearance soon. While a little bit confused, birds are out in full force, and I wonder if some birds in migration are staying here just a bit longer to make sure as they head further north that winter really, really is over. I’ve seen an entire rainbow of birds this week: red, blue, orange, and green.
What seemed hopeless for a few hours wasn’t.
What seemed like meaningless destruction serves a purpose, and more robust, healthier trees and plants will grow back.
The things that matter don’t break in storms.
Maybe Mary Oliver said it best:
I Worried
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if now how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
Am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
and gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning
and sang.
May you be called back to reinvest in the things that don’t break: Love, compassion, kindness. May your neighborhood, yard and well worn path be a place of inspiration. May the tangles and knots in your soul be eased with a gentle breeze, a singing sparrow, or broken branch.
Go for an intentional walk. Don’t listen to music or a podcast, just walk with eyes and ears open. What object lessons are hiding in plain sight in your neighborhood? What catches your eyes or invites you to look closer?
Recently Finished:
A Woman of No Importance: The Untold Story of the American Spy Who Helped Win World War II by Sonia Purnell
My daughter is doing a 5th-grade end-of-the-year project on Virginia Hall. Virginia was an American woman who worked first for the British spy agency and then for the American agency, raising and arming the French Resistance during WW II and the Natzi occupation of France. I read started this book because of the 5th-grade project. I finished this book because Virginia Hall is a true heroine that was overlooked and underappreciated in her lifetime. The book is a well-researched account of her life, and it’s written like that. I’ve read other books about women spies in France in WW II that read like novels (Code Name Helene.) This book was an account of her life, and it was a page-turner. Now, we know that her skills as a spy, a tactical leader, and her thoughtful kindness were instrumental in the success of D-Day and the success of the French Resistance. She persisted and thrived in dangerous places and led, when women were not supposed to lead, with unparalleled skill and grace. If you enjoy books about WW II, this book is one not to pass up.
Other World War II books I’ve loved: (It goes without saying, all these are based on true stories, events, and people in WW II)
Code Name Helene by Ariel Lawhon (Another book about a British woman spy in France)
The Rose Code by Kate Quinn (about the British Codebreakers in WW II)
Lilac Girls by Martha Hall Kelly (about Polish women in Natzi concentration camps, before, during, and after the war based on a true story.)
The Book of Lost Names by Kristin Harmel (about a group of people who forged documents to get Jewish children (and families) out of France)
“Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore, we must be saved by hope. Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore, we must be saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we are saved by love.”
― Parker J. Palmer, Healing the Heart of Democracy: The Courage to Create a Politics Worthy of the Human Spirit
“So it is no surprise that Jewish teaching includes frequent reminders of the importance of a broken-open heart, as in this Hasidic tale: A disciple asks the rebbe: “Why does Torah tell us to ‘place these words upon your hearts’? Why does it not tell us to place these holy words in our hearts?” The rebbe answers: “It is because as we are, our hearts are closed, and we cannot place the holy words in our hearts. So we place them on top of our hearts. And there they stay until, one day, the heart breaks and the words fall in.”
― Parker J. Palmer, Healing the Heart of Democracy: The Courage to Create a Politics Worthy of the Human Spirit
“Such a marvel, the tenacity of the buds to surge with life every spring, to greet the lengthening days and warming weather with exuberance, no matter what hardships were brought by winter.”
― Suzanne Simard, Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest