Friday, September 12, 2014

Lessons from Mother Nature and a September Snow Storm

This week it snowed. A lot. Wait a minute, I swear it is only September! I know I've been working on slowing life down, but maybe I accidently sped it up? Nope, my time bending skills didn't ricochet.  ;) Calgary just got a flash snow storm this week.

I was up in the Peace River area (*interactive part* search Peace River Valley on Google Images. Gorgeous!!) for the first part of the week. We had snow up there. But the intact forests were snow-kissed, each section as picture-perfect as the last one. Beaver dams and lodges on quiet ponds, and moose and deer completed the scenes.

I came home to heavy snow, the bending-trees-over-until-they-snap heavy.

I'm a tree kid, I adore trees. Driving with my family to work and school and seeing street after street of broken, battered trees made me catch my breath in dismay. But I don't subscribe to railing at Mother Nature. It is my philosophy She knows what she is doing, even if we humans aren't privy to plan is.

As I took in the magnitude of broken tree limbs I wondered what wisdom I could gleam from such dismay. Turns out a lot.

Some parts of life have been heavy lately, others for a long-ass time. Candid, but true. :) The feeling of being at that breaking point might have crossed my mind. Seeing broken trees surround me, trees whose limbs or trunks broke or shattered under the stress and weight of the snow, was appalling until I put it in a different perspective. Yes, magnificent, stately trees were humbled, but they will thrive again. It might only take the rubble being cleared away. Snapped limbs can create opportunities for new growth and new direction. Broken doesn't mean dead. It's a great opportunity to regroup.

Taken from that perspective, what weight am I feeling stressed under? Do I want to wait until I snap, or simply realign until I find that beautiful balance, that sweet spot of strength and give? Which reminds me, my husband called from work and asked me if I was up to knocking off what snow I could reach to ease the burden on our trees. My daughter and I were home sick, but the fresh air and falling snow lifted our spirits. Our helping hands lifted the trees' limbs. Together, we found that sweet spot. This time, no limbs broke under the weight of snow. We lost a bunch of leaves, but no limbs.

What about you? Is it time for taking inventory on your stress levels or a regroup?

Thank you Trees and Mother Nature for the lessons. Again. :)


  1. Lovely piece. The damage has been awful - and I still find myself looking up when I'm walking the dog watching out for branches that might still fall - but the trees will come back. On a lighter note, I see some people have been calling it #poplarapocalyse.

  2. Thanks Diana. :) I shall use that hashtag!

  3. "Broken doesn't mean dead." Can't count how many times over my numerous years that saying would have helped. Since I'm still here, obviously I found my regeneration points when I needed them. Thanks for putting this spin on what many see as a disastrous situation. Upward and onward - bloody and bowed but not beaten! Cheers

  4. Thanks Mahrie, you are very welcome!! Upward and onward indeed! Cheers :)