So the wind howled all through the night, whipping around the corners and through the trees. And her roof stayed on. She remained whole and stable.
But the big horse chestnut at the bottom of the garden, at the entrance to the field didn’t fare so well, almost splitting in two. One very large limb, laying supine, immobile across the field. No amount of healing will put it back together again, no glue, nor love. It’s dead wood.
It makes me feel rather sad. Sad for the tree. Sad for the metaphoric reality. I may have been able to heal and mend, whereas it seems that for others, it may not be an option.
Ophelia…. An unexpected hurricane. If I have learnt anything, once the hurricane has gone, there is peace. Accept the disruption, perhaps even devastation and then come the rainbows, the light, the colour and you could even say, rebirth.