Tons of snow threaten to crush the cabin back in 2007
We love snow. That's why we moved to Green Valley Lake, CA. At 7,000 feet, some years this little hamlet gets 24 feet of snow.
But not this year. It's been weeks and weeks since our last major precipitation.
Well, we did suffer this deluge in early January... :-/
We're not alone. Major swaths of California, Utah, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas are also suffering the same severe drought.
An Eyewitness News truck sits at the shore of GVL,
waiting in vain for a snowstorm to report on...
In January, there was even a major forest fire on nearby Mt. Baldy -- unheard of in the middle of winter.
The view of the freaky winter forest fire from our street in Green Valley Lake
Some meteorologists predict that due to climate change, this may be the scary new normal.
What to do, what to do? Panic? Freak out? Neither of those are good options.
As always, the only viable option is to just settle in and adapt to the new surroundings.
Welcome to the NEW winter in Green Valley Lake:
A robin basks in the February sun
Chris takes a stroll in shorts and sandals
Daffodils, confused by the warmth of the sun, pop to the surface months early
Chris practices the fiddle outside in the beauty of the forest
And me? I'm back in shorts and sandals.
Sigh. May as well enjoy it, right?
Lastly, I wanted to share a nature meditation by Trappist monk Richard Rohr, one of my favorite writers and thinkers:
Go to a place in nature where you can walk freely and alone, ideally some place where human impact is minimal—a forest, canyon, prairie, bog, mountain. Tell someone where you will be and how long you expect to be there. Take adequate water and clothing for the conditions.Begin your wandering by finding or creating a conscious threshold (perhaps an arched branch overhead or a narrow passage between rocks). Here offer a voiced prayer of your intention and desire for this time. Step across the threshold quite deliberately and, on this side of your sacred boundary, speak no words, but only expect!
Let the land, plants, and creatures lead your feet and eyes. Let yourself be drawn, rather than walking with a destination or purpose in mind. If you are called to a particular place or thing, stop and be still, letting yourself be known and know, through silent communion with the Other. Before you leave, offer some gesture or token of gratitude for the gift the wild has given you.
When it is time to return to the human world, find again your threshold and cross over. But now you have learned to expect God in all things.