Spared

...but for this Sycamore tree.........

…but for this Sycamore tree………I would have been seriously maimed or killed………..

 

On a day like so many others, icy cold at night, then mild and Spring like during the day, a storm gathered over our heads.  To the East, the sky was clear and calm,  but to the West, grey and threatening.

On the TV  weather station, a small dot, very small, indicated rain, but nothing like the deepening blackness that pressed closely over our heads.

Trying to grasp the reason in the sky that was not at all like the image on TV, I returned to the full length glass door. Day had become like night with no moon, the trees groaned and bent to the ground then rose, creaking to the dance of the wind.

Just then, at my husband’s hand,  the blinds dropped before my eyes, a roar filled the air, our home’s steady, sure embrace shook, and the lights went out.

With great care and ease, I, we, opened the door to see and feel the torrent of rain and a live electric wire down and hopping with the wind’s work on a tree limb that it had tangled around.

Another tree, at that time an unknown  (to us) Species, had wrapped around the Sycamore, like a spiraling downward S, taking branches down to their fall on the electrical wire that came from the Transformer through the air to its rest at the edge of our home’s roof.

Later, with the Insurance Adjuster, we learned the spiraling tree’s species, one that only grew eight tenths of a mile away.  We photographed where  electrical Arcs had left their burns, and measured length and reach of the wire that bounced death.

Were it not for the Sycamore, of considerable diameter and height, the wind borne tree would have followed its path to, and possibly into the door where I stood. Too, was the very really possibility, that the Live wire would have snaked its way to my harm.

I am grateful for our Sycamore Tree.

 

 

 

 

 

Thwarting Mischief

100_5037On a morning’s stroll just as light had fully cleared the rooftops was how I remember the time.

Still, these several days later I can not say what made me look down to where the rubber of the parked car’s tires met the pavement.

Yet I did look and was startled to see a couple of these screws nestled close to the center nearly bare tire thread.  Retrieving the could be hazards and righting myself, I continued my walk.

A couple of steps more and an urgent sense came to my mind:  Look at this next tire.

Again my curious eyes met more screws/ bolts, strategically placed in ‘front’ and ‘back’ of the rear tire. The driver would not have been able to miss any of them.

Certainty replaced what had been a sense of coincidence as I strolled around to peek below the other tires. Sure enough, more carefully placed screws and bolts littered the asphalt, hidden almost completely by oil stains and shadow.

All this time later I do not know ‘exactly’ what made me look to see this accident waiting to happen.

I do know the sense of urgency I felt was powerful and compelling, and my first thought considered ‘Guardian Angel’.  As in the car owner/ driver’s Guardian  Angel.

 

A Sister

                                 A sister is a rare and perfect gem in a treasure box of jewels.

Sometimes flickering and warm, other times sparkling seeming to leap about.

Other times restful and quiet, but comfortably, strongly  there.

                                     Too a brother, a sibling gift from the Divine.  Strength and comfort and wisdom sure with gentle and sometimes necessary firmness.

Be grateful for siblings.  The ones who grew beneath a mother’s heart, and the ones who grew along within a mother’s heart.

 

Larkspur Gathering

                                Certainly there were calls I could have made.  Long conversations I may have needed to have.  The moments could have been used differently, but, I chose to gather Larkspur seed.

                                  For the second  time in four days I found myself mesmerized as I gazed upon a mound of coral fire called Larkspur.  Sprinkled about the blossoms a few dark, spent blooms had gone to seed.  Tell tale ‘eyes’ had opened in the pod to reveal many seeds waiting inside.

                                      The ones that were ready, I picked with bare hands, remembering that my grandmother had always put down Muslin cloth so that none of the seeds could be accidentally lost.

                                        Accident and lost are two words with which I maintain disagreement.  Nothing is ever lost, and there are no accidents.  Changes maybe, and differences, maybe. But, nothing is new under our Sun, on this old, old world.

                                      Gratefully awed at the profusion of possibility at my hands.  Dried on a bit of paper towel, transferred to a labeled envelope,  my hopes for tomorrow.100_5027100_5031100_5034

 

 

A Simple Evening, a simple tomorrow……………………..

………………………a little TV with my many decades beloved.  Laughter and chocolate chip cookies, glasses of cold, cold, milk.

Plans for tomorrow?  Garage sales, maybe,depending on the weather, or an Estate Sale.  Maybe we’ll try a new fast food place opening in a neighboring town……………….

Whatever simple and awesome thing presents itself, we will be grateful.

Tree Bark Wisdom

Lately, as the trees are in the process of going into a long winter’s rest, I’ve been observing the tree bark and considering the lessons to be learned.

 

The bark is a pretty barrier to the would be harms of the world in which the tree lives.  It is not the tree, it is not the Life, the real life of the tree.

 

The bark shows battles, and wounds survived. The bark is life and nourishment and home to many other non tree species.

The bark reveals where the tree has been without ever leaving its place.

 

The tree’s secrets are kept only to be revealed at its seeming death.  One tree’s death is like a human losing a nail.  Life continues for millions of the same kind, all over the planet,.