You've probably seen the news and heard about our ice and power troubles, so I'm here to give you an update on the beautiful side of the storm.

Our power flickered a few times and finally succumbed to the ice on Saturday. It popped back on in the middle of the night though, and the TV entertained itself while we slept. (We had been about to watch a movie when the lights went out.) Since then, it has been off and on...mostly on.

Kimmie and I oohed and awwed on our way to school and work on Monday (Libby did too, but not because she was impressed by anything, just because she's a happy baby!) The beautiful, shimmering trees and power lines sparkled in the sunshine. The fences and prairie grass had been transformed into crystal, the kind of crystal that deserves special lighting and a glass showcase. They were definitely receiving special lighting. The sun sparkled through the ice, sending shivering points of light in every direction.

Amid the beauty, devastation abounded; huge, broken branches dangled dangerously above the ground. Fresh, splintering wood exposed to daylight for the first time mixed an idea of spring into a world of winter white. Limp power lines appeared to be strands of diamond necklaces cast to the ground after an evening of dancing.

Driving through the snow-packed streets in town revealed a new form of fencing in front yards. Miscellaneous twigs, sticks and branches waiting for pickup by the city decorated the strips of land between the sidewalks and the streets. Every house had its own brush pile made from fallen wood, and the wood still had shimmering, icy diamonds attached. The sun created sparkly barriers, and the houses falsely looked protected. A large branch at one home had broken through that barrier and appeared to be knocking on the front door of the house. The slight tips of the tree brushed just inches from the glass door.

As I walked from my parked car towards the office, I passed under a massive, ice-laden oak tree. The crackling of ice and maybe wood sounded loudly in the morning air while from a distance faint chainsaw noises reached my ears. I wondered how likely it would be for a branch to come crashing down on me. I paused under the canopy of wood and gazed up through the silvery entwined mass, shivering with delight at the beauty and potential danger.
2 Responses
  1. bluefilly Says:

    Hi Missy...I was sharing a few of your posts with Christopher and he sent me an email back saying, "That's scary. You and her could be the same person...I'm glad you have each other."


    I love you!

  2. Bluefilly,

    I am so glad we have each other, too! :)

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