Frog Abstract Art / Kindred Spirits: The Cairn

It was early afternoon. We were out taking my husband's older car for a spin, and I paid the tax bill at the local township office while he did some recycling. On the way back home, my husband dropped me off in the Scotia Barrens, near my favorite pond. Things had been pretty exciting there the last time I went, amphibian-wise. In springtime, it's hard to keep me away. So back I went.

I heard the chorus of frogs from the parking lot; the sunshine arrived just as I did, and it warmed up the frogs and set them singing. The noise was almost deafening! It had been a chilly, overcast morning. The afternoon would turn sunny and warm. Let me tell you what: this is a perfect recipe for frog-fest!

And indeed there were frogs. Frogs everywhere. Frogs floating. Frogs ping-ponging off one another. Frogs zipping across the pond at top speed, making waves on the perfect tree-reflections. Visually speaking, it was freaking amazing. Yes, that's the technical term. The frogs and the reflections and I joined together to create some pretty cool abstract art!

It was hard to drag myself away, but eventually I did, and I walked home from there to discover that neighbors had already been by our house, and would be back again, for wood. For there is at least one more story about our tree and its wood that is well worth telling. Sit down a spell. I'm going to tell you that story now.

The crew that came to our house on Sunday cut up and removed most of the wood from the fallen tree. They did a beautiful job, very neat work, very HARD work, cutting and moving and splitting all that wood.

My husband asked them to leave a little pile. A neighbor who had stopped by a few days before had asked us if he could have some of the wood to give it to a poorer neighbor who lived next to him. Of course, my husband said Yes!

When my husband communicated this need to Sunday's tree removal crew, they were very positive, set the wood aside, and indicated they would cut it up for the poor family. In fact, they were happy to help.

On this afternoon, the gentleman we spoke with came by* and brought his neighbor to load up the wood. The neighbor brought his little son along. I think I recognized them from the neighborhood, as I may have seen the wife walking with their children. They were so grateful for all that had been done on their behalf: that somebody took the time and the care to do this just for a family in need.

I looked out the window at the end of everything to see their little boy hunkered down in the dirt, making something. I went out after they left to discover a lovely little cairn he had constructed out of some debris (see extras). I recognized in him a kindred spirit. Like me, he was trying to make something beautiful out of all of the broken things.

There are things that you learn from a disaster, and maybe next week, when all of this is behind us (she said, hopefully), I'll try to summarize some of that. But for now, here is just one lesson learned:

Inside every story, inside every disaster or tragedy, inside every hurt and pain and sorrow and loss in life, there will be imbedded tiny moments of grace. You need to watch for those and latch onto them, for they will help sustain you and get you through.

I have two images so here are two songs. First, for my frogs above, I've got Come Together, by the Beatles. Second, for the gift the little boy left me, the cairn of debris, I wanted something from the album Kindred Spirits, which was a tribute to Johnny Cash upon his passing. The song itself doesn't have much to do with the story I'm telling but here's my favorite tune from the whole album: Travis Tritt, with I Walk the Line.


*Of course, LGK the neighbor kitty was on site once again to supervise any and all actions. So he was present when the neighbors showed up. This is the conversation that ensued:

Neighbor: You have a nice cat. He's a little fat.
Husband: He's not our cat.
Neighbor: Do you think you're feeding him too much?
Husband: He's NOT our CAT!