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Hidey Holes and Other Scary Times

Posted on October 4, 2014 by Kami

Friday Letter to My Kids – October 3, 2014 –

Dear J, J, L and L,

When we moved to Oklahoma one of the first things anyone said to us was, “Welcome to Oklahoma. If you don’t like the weather just wait ten minutes.” That sure proved true. Blue skies could change to threatening wall clouds and potential destruction in just a matter of minutes. Then sirens could start blasting and we’d tune in to the local news to see where the radar signature of a tornado might be traveling.

Luckily we never saw one in person.

Do you remember hidey holes?

The first time we had to crouch and hide from a tornado it was in a one and a half-story home with that odd loft. The smallest and most central room in the house was the bathroom. That’s where we hid out when the tornado sirens blasted. I had all four of you climb into the tub where I covered you with a big quilt. Then I hunkered down beside you. Dad must have been out-of-town or at work.

Lucky for us the sirens proved unnecessary and no tornado touched down anywhere. I imagine the adrenaline of that first time kept us all awake late that night.

There’s an odd sensation of wanting to stand at a window and try to see this phenomenon live and in person. It seems to outweigh the logic of hiding out in a closet or bathtub. Nowadays with smart phones, weather cameras and non-stop storm chasers we could snuggle safe in our hidey hole and still see what’s going on.

Our second home in Oklahoma had a bigger, better sheltering spot, in that big weird closet that wrapped around the back of the rock fireplace. Remember that closet? It could have served as an extra bedroom it was so big.

I have to admit I’m glad we didn’t have a storm shelter. The idea of crawling into a glorified hole in the ground and waiting out a fierce storm scares the heck outta me. Remember how I don’t like basements, dark places or small spaces? But we’d have had a better chance if our house had taken a direct hit by a twister if we were underground.

The closest we ever came to real danger was a cluster of tiny tornadoes that sort of skipped over our neighborhood, tickled a few rooftops, took out a few small trees and then dissipated. And once a gas station in the town just north of ours took a direct hit. Phew.

I see news footage of some of the havoc from big storms that sweep through towns and feel grateful we never saw anything like that firsthand. Moving to “tornado alley” turned out okay for us, but the idea sure sounded ominous at the time.

Fairly self-explanatory.

Even in Wyoming you’ve encountered scary stuff. How could you ever forget the time you were staying at Grandpa and Grandma’s house Big J? Lightning hit in the middle of the night and blew the TV out. Grandpa said you made the leap from your bedroom to theirs in one bound.

I suppose anywhere you live there’s some kind of danger. Some areas habitually rock and roll with earthquakes. Others experience frequent flooding. Then there’s the coastal threats of hurricanes and tsunamis. Not to mention volcanoes, drought, landslides, ice storms, sinkholes, dust storms, hail, blizzards. There’s always something.

Life itself plays out as a risky undertaking. Knowing that, we brace ourselves for uncertainty and bumpy roads while enjoying the ride and scenery as much as we can in the meantime.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve found myself less willing to risk even simple things. I’m sure I’m missing out, I’m just not sure how to combat that inherent fear.

Jarek Tuszynski [CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Hard to believe this now deathly-scared-of-heights woman, your very own mother, is the same one who introduced you to rock climbing and rappelling you when were four and five years old. Who was that woman and where did she disappear to? (Remember days spent at Spire Rock?) Little J picked up the nickname Arachnid for her mad climbing skills back then.

Maybe it’s a hormone thing. Maybe it’s insanity, or maybe it’s actually sanity finally settling in. Staying safe, avoiding risk and searching for a solid footing seem to make up a significant portion of my daily efforts. Feels a bit like I’ve taken up permanent residence in a hidey hole.

That’s silly.

So far, each of you have braved new adventures with eyes wide and anticipating what’s next. Fortunately, I can also see your wisdom in “setting protection,” like a smart rock climber would. You’re on belay and working your way up to new, fun and spectacular vistas.

It’s scary and exciting to see you progressing. I want to save you from rock fall, wild weather, and anything that might prevent your happiness. But I can’t. Even if I could it’d be unfair of me to deprive you of the learning opportunity of hardship. (Have I mentioned how much I hate learning from hardship? You should at least know that much about me by now.)

About all that I can do involves praying for you which I do daily and fervently! Wherever you go and whatever you do I wish you courage, calm winds, safe passage, sturdy shelter, and plenty of joy.

Love Always,

Mom

“Bluebird of Happymess”

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.” ~Rabindranath Tagore

Categories: Family, Friday Letters, Nature | Tags: Family, Friday Letter to my Kids, Friday Letters, hardship, Rock climbing, safety, storms, tornadoes | 3 Comments

Overgrown

Posted on October 19, 2013 by Kami

My front yard boasts an impressive acacia tree. It’s a good thirty feet tall with branches arching out over half of the yard and shading most of the driveway. With the tiniest of leaf petioles, I find it impressive that so much shade can exist under its twisting branches.

When the winds kick up around here the upper and outer branches, which are fairly thin and flexible, wave about like animated ghosts in a Disney cartoon. Some of the outer branches nearly touch the ground when the wind howls. It’s quite a show.

I worry that one of these mornings after one of our storms, I’ll peak out the front door to find the tree completed blown over or a significant branch or two lying on the ground. You see, the tree has a dire need of pruning.

Looking at it from a few houses away it looks okay. It’s green and fluffy and has a nice shape. But step underneath the tree and look up into the canopy and you’ll see the problem. Half of the branches are dead or dying, or at least look that way. I think maybe the tree can’t support that much growth, so the inside lower branches, which don’t get much sunlight kind of give up.

There’s one really large branch that’s broken but hanging on by the bark. We’re talking a branch eight inches across. All the branches on that limb have died and browned over and dropped most of their tiny leaves.

I’ve done the best I can with my pruning stick thingy, but it only cuts half-inch branches or smaller. What it really needs is a knowledgeable tree person to thin out the overgrown and unnecessary larger branches. This will, in turn, allow the rest of the tree to grow, flex, stretch and thrive.

Procrastination being my middle name, I’ve put off doing anything about it. Sure, I’ve asked a few friends for phone numbers of their tree people. But I haven’t followed through on getting estimates or scheduling the deed.

I think I’m like that tree. I’m a tangled mess of a little of this and a bunch of that and some over here and there. Tough winds blow through my life and I get all tied up in knots and swoosh around wondering if I’m going to blow over or fall down.

It’s not that I’m wimpy or weak or wishy-washy. It’s more that I’m unfocused and spread over too wide of an area. So many things call to me for my time, money and attention.

I can’t do it all. My trunk and roots can’t support every leaf and branch my life wants to send out. Regardless of how worthwhile, fun, or interesting, sometimes I have to say “no.” Sometimes I have to let go of what looks good from a distance, but might, with closer inspection, really just take a toll on me.

Might be time for some personal pruning. Hmmm.

So, it’s five days since I wrote about the acacia tree. I finally had the tree pruned. It took a guy with power tools and ladders almost five hours to prune, trim, shape and bring that tree under control. Then he had to load the mountain of branches into his oversized trailer and strap it down snug.

One of my fears was that it would look naked and overpruned. Luckily the tree guy really had a good handle on how to shape that mass of overgrown tangled branches. The tree still looks full and round. It still casts a broad shadow over my driveway and provides plenty of places for birds to hang out. But now, sunshine can get through the top canopy to the lower branches. Bits of blue sky show through when I look up from underneath this natural sculpture.

I think the tree will be happier and healthier without so much extra weight hanging on it. When the winds blow, the branches and tiny leaves will be less like sails on a ship and more like a musical instrument for the wind to make music with.

I think I’d be happier and healthier with some mental pruning. I’d rather be a musical instrument than a sail.