The Mighty Pine - She Will Survive

Our little round 4 seater kitchen table sits in front of our sunroom window.  With chin in hand, through the slats of wooden blinds, the immediate eye level view from my chair is a wicker basket which is attached to the handlebars of my purple beach bike.  The handle of a yellow plastic fly swatter sticks out of the basket. Out of the corner of my I catch a glimpse of a brightly colored stripy patio umbrella.

If I lift my head slightly, my view changes and I immediately become mesmerized by the swaying branches and waving pine needle fingers from the old pine in the back yard.  The tree has grown so tall in its 20 year life, that from where I sit I cannot see the top of the tree.
A few years ago during a winter storm, the branches became so heavy with wet snow that the old girl's trunk began to lean, her roots desperately trying to maintain their deep hold in the wet cold earth.
The next day the storm passed, but temperatures had plummeted.  The skies were brilliantly cold blue.  The heavy wet clumps, still clinging to branches, had become icy crystals.
The high noon sun was warm enough to coax the snow off the branches, causing them to plop to the ground, sending showers of crystals up into the air like sprays from a fountain.
As her load began to lighten, the old girl tried to straighten her spine, urging her roots to pull her up.
I watched this unfold from my window seat and I could almost hear her majesty groan as each clump came crashing down.
By the end of the day the tree had leaned so far forward that we thought we had lost her.
Fortunately, friendly helping hands arrived with sturdy stakes and strong rope in hand.  The old girl was gently propped up and she survived.
Today on this gray November day, I am reminded of the struggle our dear pine endured.   I thought about how valiantly she fought to maintain her roots.  On that dark and stormy night I feared she had given up.
Today, as I sit in my usual spot, I stare out the window, contemplating my weariness. I flinch each time I move the wrong way because my aches are painful.
I lift my eyes away from the purple bike and towards the swaying branches of my lady pine.
I am hopeful for I know friendly helping hands will be there to gently prop me up and lighten my lode when my burdens weigh me down.