The Lemon and Peppercorn Trees: Dawn After the Storm

"Dawn After the Storm", watercolor/gouache by M. Bencivengo, 1987.

Dear Reader,

It has been a while since I have blogged.

There was a big storm here, then there was the aftermath, and by now we are after the aftermath. There have been smaller storms since, and every time a smaller storm comes, I wonder into the clouds if it will be anything like "The Big Storm." So far, so good: There are few storms here as big as that "Big Storm." I am not in Tornado Alley, but for several minutes, my side yard was its own narrow tornado alley. A gush of seventy mile-per-hour wind left huge tree limbs down upon the ground in its wake. And it did not stop there: It decided to race downtown to see what else it could destroy and settled on the roof and a wall of the historic Sandusky State Theater. You can view the devastation at: https://sanduskyregister.com/news/264530/crews-work-at-the-sandusky-state-theatre/ and you can also see the restitution being made, the re-building. The first movie I ever saw at a theater was at this beloved theater; my mom took me and my cousin Tim. It is breathtaking to see a movie or live entertainment at a theater as magnificent as this, as you can see if you visit its website at: https://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/sandusky-state-theatre-sandusky?select=SVRQ4AbG32D4XdwQaw2Khw

It was after this storm that I finally gave a title to an old painting I did back in 1987. I used to call it "Untitled" and now I call it "Dawn After the Storm." The painting does not exist anymore. I had given it to an old friend and due to a mishap it suffered some water damage. My friend told me the damaged painting looked like it was weeping. May it rest in peace. I am glad I saved a photo of it. It's not a great masterpiece, but to me it was special. I thought to include it in this blog because it reminds me of the time my lemon tree almost did not survive. The woman could be the spirit of the tree and you can see the tree-spirit wants to come back to life again when you look above the tree-woman's head and see the soulful limbs stretch to the sky again where they had once been cut down. I could have easily named the painting "Amaterasu," as she could be a sun-goddess, too, leaning upon the trunk of the tree. She is faceless, because she could be anybody. We all face storms. Then we all re-form our lives.

So did my garden. Broken tree limbs fell not just in the yard, but over the garden. I do say over, because the plants were spared due to the curving of the limbs atop the plants. None of them were squashed or squished or trampled. I wish the birds in the trees had been spared--there were dead birds all over the yard and smashed onto the patio. One baby bird that had not even opened its eyes to the world yet was badly injured. It was sheltered under the bench in front of the porch. I tried to make it comfortable; I called the animal rescue, but it was just after hours and no one answered the phone; I went to the animal rescue website to see how I might help the little bird. Whenever I talked to it with a sweet sing-song soothing voice, it turned its head to me even though it could not see just what it was that was talking to it. I built it a little nest and did what I could to comfort it. I hoped it could last until morning so I could take it to the wild animal rescue shelter, but it did not make it through the night. May God bless that baby bird.

Since then, so much has happened: