After the storm

There’s nothing like sunshine after a storm.

We had another big tree go down on the hillside at the lake house during the Easter Sunday storms. A large oak which came up from the roots toppled everything in its path (which fortunately, did NOT include the house), leaving a mass and a mess of smaller trees and shrubs.

Which meant only one thing: time for the chainsaw. I’ll have to confess that using a chainsaw is one of my guilty little pleasures. On the surface a chainsaw is not a likely candidate for my love. It’s loud, it uses fossil fuels, it’s destructive and potentially dangerous. But, oh the power! and the glory! and the speed at which I can cut and trim and begin to organize the chaos.

My chain saw is the smallest one available and I’m sure a real lumber jack would consider it nothing more than a glorified toy. But I can handle it (though I’ve found that two hours is my limit) and am comfortable with it. And, I am extremely careful, not only to prevent injury but also because I’m afraid that even one slight mishap would result in someone (like a well meaning family member) taking it away from me.

I know my limits and only tackle the smaller branches and limbs. Even so, chainsawing takes total concentration. Not only is there danger from the machine itself, there is also always the unknown of how the trees and limbs will react. It’s sort of like a chess game. “If I cut here, it will (probably) fall there” sort of thing.

The hillside has changed and while I grieve what is gone, I am already beginning to plan how to go forward. While I’ll never again enjoy the shade of this mighty oak, I do have the opportunity to make a different kind of garden. There is fertile ground here for making some positive changes.

You know where I’m going with this. What are we going to do when the chainsaws have silenced, after this storm of the virus has passed and when the threat of contagion no longer dictates our lives? Inevitably, things will not be the same. There is fertile ground for change here as well. I hope that the lessons we learn from this global catastrophe include a new and lasting appreciation for one another. I hope that the renewed interest in gardening and cooking and nature remain. I hope that we reprioritize and find that the things that are most important are love, family and a simple joy of being alive.

Stay safe. Keep faith. Remain hopeful.

Laura