My Husband the Druid

This is a blog post about observation...oh, and love. Can you find the mailbox in the picture on the right? The red flag is up, indicating we have a pick up. Do you see our yellow pole indicating to the snowplow driver to please (pretty please on bended knees) drop the gate so as not to berm us in. Follow the snow line to the far left of the pic, just the tip of the pole with reflective gray tape is sticking up through the snow...and that sucker is 7 foot high! OK, so Tahoe has had a beautiful, awe-inspiring, old fashion dumping and our poor little Lodgepole Pine over top the mailbox took a massive hit. During the brunt of the storm it was weighed down and touching our driveway, blocking the Snow mobile Subie you see there and our mailbox. Of course, I went out brandishing the tree sheers, ready to unblock the necessities. You may be able to see a few spiky branches poking out where I had just started my attack. However, my dear husband came to the tree's rescue, "Noooooooo! Don't cut the tree." I stopped, I observed and I listened. His argument of leaving sharp, dangerous branches sticking out was valid, however, we needed our mail and we needed to get out! Breathing in, I knew that I was breathing in...breathing out, I knew that I was breathing out. In the pause, I became clear-minded and consciously decided for love over my way. It took a few more breaths and a little bit of humor as we spent another hour on top of the tree with the shovel, freeing it to spring back up to the blizzard sky. "What are you a druid?" I asked. We smiled and shoveled. Next onslaught was a few hours later as the tree was once again laden with 2 foot of fresh snow. Another freeing ensued...my ideas of how things should be: the tree and my husband all became practice partners during the ten day storm.

The January theme of Beginning Anew has worked its magic on me. In every situation, love awaits our surrender. Surrender I did, to a higher ideal of choosing love, peace and understanding. I hope our mailman forgives us. So far, so good as the sun now shines, the snow melts and our sweet, gangly Lodgepole weathers the storm, each day straighter, stronger, solid and free.