The constant dreary clouds and rain seemed like purgatory. Winter wasn’t gone but neither was spring here. We were stuck in between the two. But the skies parted, the sun proved it still existed, and freed us from purgatory.

The Day Lillies are stirring, pushing out of the ground and saying winter is over. The forecast is for snow late this afternoon and evening. But it shouldn’t drag us back into purgatory. By morning the forecast is for rain, so I won’t need to shovel snow tomorrow.

The largest trees on the property are these three cottonwoods. Some of their limbs would make decent size trees if they fell off and stuck into the ground. What is it like to be so tall that you can see over all the other trees?

Do trees feel they are in purgatory, caught in limbo while they wait for the weather to warm them up enough to unfold their leaves and come to life again?

Someone described these cottonwoods as widow makers. Their massive limbs can drop without warning and impale a hapless soul walking underneath them. And from watching the way tree limbs fall to the ground like spears, I have a suspicion that trees have sinister feelings about creatures who can move. And when winter storms thrash their limbs about, trees take aim at creatures below them, and see how many they can take out when their heavy limbs hurl to the ground.

So when you are in the woods, tread carefully, and watch the trees above. Are they taking aim at you?