We have branches down all over the yard, but I'm not complaining. I'm told our old neighborhood, back in town, looks like a war zone, trees down in such quantity and size that I'd rather not look and won't.
It would have been a devastating storm any time of the year, of course, trees gone and power out; but this nearly three-day siege, despite its beauty, felt, in a way, like a personal affront. After all, dang it, it's April.
Mostly, really, it was a blessing--power goes back on after all, most trees live to leaf and blossom and bear fruit again. What this legendary spring storm left us with was grace on the level of manna in our own wilderness of drought, snow and ice seeping lovingly into dry earth that hasn't had enough to drink for quite more than a year.
Still, it's hard to call it beautiful when temperatures belly flop the way they have and an unrepentant northwest wind peels off your cheeks. It's spring, for pity sake.
Here's something of what it looked like at our place.