TINY HOUSE

When I checked on my favorite slow-growing tree in the yard yesterday, I found a house nestled beneath a brittle last-fall leaf.

This tiny house has survived winter snow and ice, torrential spring rains, and ferocious windstorms like the one that took down power lines and hundred-year-old trees in the nearby town of Obion last week.

Do any of us with our brick-&-mortar, concrete, steel, and treated 2x4s live in such safe, snug little houses? I doubt it.

And yet, while incredibly strong and durable, this tiny house is also incredibly fragile. I could have crushed it my hand. If I had committed such violence, the snug resident curled up inside would not have simple counted it unfortunate and then crawled off to begin the labor of rebuilding; no, such violence would have destroyed not only the home, but the occupant as well.

This beautiful coccoon, dancing in the warm spring breeze, is a picture of trust. Trust provides a place of shelter, strength, and resiliency from which incredible storms can be weathered in safety. So strong, and yet so fragile.

I love this time of year, every day greener than the day before. Trees thrum with the music of bees. The irises my sister gave me are just beginning to bloom and my grandmother's rose has a hundred swelling buds.

Spring looks, sounds, smells, and feels like hope to me.

My favoite tree unfolds tender leaves, and beneath the detritus of summer long past, new life waits.