By Dolores Bader

Today is the first day of Spring, at least on the calendar. Like everyone else I am totally ready for the sight of something green “springing” from Mother Earth. Perhaps it is because Easter is early this year, maybe it is just a bad case of winter weariness. Whatever, I am SO ready for the newness of Spring. I am ready to see the triangle at the entrance to town come to life under the hands of the volunteer gardeners who do this community an incredible service. I am ready to watch tractors head to the fields and for the country roads to become passable again.

Looking to the southeast from the south side of my house I have an incredible view of the horizon. Earth and sky come together at the top of the hill on the east side of Highway 218 in an unobstructed panorama. It is one of those sights that brings comfort when the daily news becomes overwhelming. Looking straight east I can see the tree line along the Cedar stretching south for miles.

Why am I writing about this? To make a point; that horizon was here long before I was but it took the loss of something I loved for me to see it. The loss was the top (and the life) of my huge oak tree. When the tree experts told me it had a year left (“maybe”) I wondered if all the birds it hosted would be happy with the tree across the drive which they seldom frequented. The tree top was gone for quite awhile before I really paid attention to the new view. It is beautiful; it is comforting. It induces thought.

As we approach Easter I can look at that hill and envision the three crosses of Good Friday. On sunny days the sun crawls behind the hill on its way to set in the west.  On snowy, windy days the white fluff blows between heaven and earth melding the two.  And all these years it has been hidden from my sight. It makes me wonder what else I might be missing. I could have stood on either side of that tree and seen that same horizon, but I didn’t. How about you? What blocks your view of life?