Nature Connection: After The Storm

As I write, utility trucks are slowly driving down the road while a man with a snow blower is clearing his driveway. After days without electricity or heat, you could almost hear a collective cheer when the lights came back on. It got down to 42 degrees in our house, and we were thankful for a fireplace and a gas stove. It was still really cold and miserable for days on end.

It’s easy to forget that much of the world lives without the easy access we have to regular power and central heating. From what I read on the internet, some people can’t even make it through 24 hours without having a breakdown, and I’m not talking about people in need of oxygen or other energy dependent health assists. One keyboard warrior was distraught that McDonalds wasn’t open during the height of the storm and blamed the governor for making them starve. Crazy times we’re living in.

Back to the storm, though. By the time you read this, the blizzard of February 2026 will be but a memory. The kids will be back in school, sidewalks cleared, buses on the move again. Produce departments in the grocery stores will be full, and local restaurants and shopping areas will all be open. 

We will have moved on as if several feet of snow hadn’t been dumped on us with winds that took down trees and utility poles without any concern for the people or wildlife those might affect. If the temperatures remain well above freezing, most if not all of the snow will have melted and March will be celebrating her entrée as a spring debutante.

In the worst of the storm, when the branches were breaking and the trees were swaying, I watched a small flock of robins battling the wind to get to our holly trees. I was sad for them, for there were no berries left on those hollies. Hopefully they at least found decent shelter. I heard them bicker and watched them move about for an hour or so before they flew off to hopefully find something to eat.

Storms are rough on wildlife, especially long-lasting storms with lots of wind and precipitation. Although both birds and mammals have some protection from both wet and cold, they are still vulnerable in long-term events when they can’t dry out or find food or adequate shelter. Many hunker down in the warmest, out-of-the-way spot they can find, while others are forced out into the elements by hunger or fear.

As the blizzard began to calm and the winds to slow, I watched more birds begin moving about in the tangle of bushes and grasses at the edge of our yard. The two giant Norway spruces still stood, due to my ongoing surveillance and secret chanting no doubt, and as the storm began to quiet several blue jays arrived. Chickadees and titmice showed up and could be seen working the bark of the old oak tree, looking for whatever insect or spider larvae they could find, and a downy woodpecker began circling the trunk of the same oak, drilling and hoping for a tidbit.

The next day dawned sunny and bright, and a song sparrow began to sing. Other birds hopped about in the snow and one of our yard bunnies nibbled on some twigs it hadn’t been able to reach before the two feet of snow lifted it up. Here I was wrapped in blankets, grumpily wearing my wooly hat and mittens inside my cold house, and here they were, braving the elements and appearing somewhat cheerful about it.

Unlike me they weren’t checking the texts from Eversource or hoping the solar phone charger was still working. They weren’t stuffing bags of snow in a cooler or the freezer or wishing for things to be different. They were just going about their business as if this was just another day.

They were right, of course. It was just another day. Some days it rains, some days it shines. Some days are hot and some are cold. Sometimes things are easy but often they are not. Nature seems to take it all in stride, but I think the real trick is that nature and all her little friends live in the present, not in yesterday or tomorrow. They simply take what comes when it comes and if it doesn’t come, they deal with that as best they can.

It took days for our lights to come back on and an extra day for our furnace to wake up, but we got through it all. Did we complain to each other? Did we want it to be different? Of course we did, because unlike the birds and the squirrels, we are humans and somehow at some point in our evolution we seem to have lost the ability to live in the present and appreciate each day as it shows up.

Perhaps you followed the Buddhist monks that walked from Texas to Washington, D.C. earlier in the year. Their goal was to bring peace to all, to remind us to live in the present and to live with the goal of peace in every hour of every day. I thought of them often during our time of worry and concern over storm-related incidents and losses. Like the chickadees and song sparrow, I suspect the monks would have simply accepted what was happening as it happened, and as I reflect on that I realize how far removed most of us are from that thought, never mind that reality.

There were many kindnesses expressed and delivered during and after the storm, and I hope we can all remember that we are all basically good, basically helpful, even in spite of all the anger and yelling and blaming that seems to be taking over the airwaves.

Here’s to the peace after the storm. I hope we can hold it in our hearts as spring arrives and winter sneaks out the back door.