here on the oregon coast, when we get a “dusting” of that white stuff, i chuckle about people not knowing how to drive in a mere flurry. back in the land of studded tires nine months of the year, we all learned how to navigate through blizzards when needed (and we knew when not to do so as well), as just part of the day in, day out life experience. we got better than a dusting here the other night, though, and in the land of giant trees, it was quite an experience to be under a record-breaking 6 inches of heavy, wet snow. around 1 am the power went out, and around 1:30 we could hear the sounds of trees bursting and popping and cracking as limbs, and in some cases, whole trees, succumbed to the weight of the snow and the inexorable pull of gravity.
homestead with white stuff on top
chainsaw artist in coveralls inspecting driveway
ornamental cherry blossoms apparently provide quite a lot of surface area to which snow will liberally apply itself. we had been thinking we’d wait until fall to prune this tree, which has a million suckers and has grown pretty gangly over the years… but it looks like pruning time has come sooner than we expected. ouch, i hope it survives this shock to its system. poor thing was pretty much split in two right at blossoming time. but one thing i know is that nature is resilient.
letting love into my life has been a lot like exposing a lot of surface area and then a lot of heavy stuff got dropped on the petals of my life. i’m feeling this tree right now. surgery/custody/lawyers/doctors/sinus infections are all going to fade into the sunset like winter (when winter finally gives it up already!) and spring will do its springy thing and i’ll bounce back greener and more vigorous than ever after a little pruning, given that i’ve recently planted myself next to a wellspring of apparently unlimited unconditional love. ’cause nature is resilient, and all. (though i have to admit i’ve been keeping my surface area pretty under wraps the past few weeks and feeling more like hibernating and less like blooming… making decisions about where i am and where i am not going to put my energy in this coming year is helping me focus on what is important and emerge from my shell again.)
daffodil saying “wtf?”
chainsaw artist being a joker; photographer calling his bluff
cherry blossoms and a fresh batch of pink and green playdough on the table to welcome, hopefully very soon, spring.
So beautiful. My in laws live in Klamath falls so I am familiar with the may blizzard. Enjoy!!
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yes, where i'm from, march blizzards are standard and we would occasionally have them in june. 😉
beautiful.all of it.
love you!
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I remember the April blizzard when I was like… well, little. And the huge blizzard in 93, but that was March. I don't recall any June blizzards… just tales of a forgotten time when maybe it snowed once in June. I think that was probably back when Hurricane Hazel took out the shed across the road. Ok, I actually decided to look it up, and the only mention I found was in 1816, which was dubbed the "Year without a summer". I don't think it counts.
i swear i remember snow in june, but maybe it didn't qualify as a blizzard… and maybe i was too little to really know which month it was, in which case you were itty bitty. (haha as if you were ever able to be described using that term. hahahaha.) but i agree, years without summer definitely don't count.
p.s. thanks for vetting the facts, i don't want to be spreading misinformation on my blog! goodness!!! love you bro.
[…] there’s my honey, mr. chainsaw, halfway up the ornamental cherry tree, relieving it of some of its top-heaviness that caused it trauma during our snow event of last […]
[…] i love spring: metaphors for rebirth literally growing on trees; the mascot for lightness of being zooming past my head each time i walk […]