On the second day of Spring we were surprised with the perfect snow. Four inches of good packing snow on a weekday. An amazing light snow able to be shaped and sculpted. “Come on, mom! Let’s make a snow fort,” my son called as he knelt in the snow and swung his arms wide along the snow surface gathering up a snow pile. He pounded and smashed the fluffy snow into a hard mound, then gently smoothed the snow wall with his gloved hands. I bent down and began to form snow ball bricks and instructed him in the proper technique for snow fort making.
“Make the snow bricks first then stack and fill the holes with the snow, don’t pound so hard,” I said. I reminded him that I have lots of experience in this stuff because I lived most of my childhood in a state that always had snow on the ground in winter. I made my lopsided snow balls, stacked and crushed them into a bumpy wall. No amount of bragging would change my son’s plans. He pressed and shaped his snow into a solid curved wall that resembled a dragon’s tail. My son asked me why it sounds like I am criticizing his work. After we finished snow building, he threw snowballs at both of our structures. Mine toppled and his stood firm in the snow ball assault.
Next to our snow fort is the Peach tree my husband and I severely pruned a couple weeks ago. It is the “Y” standing next to our snow wall. I think about all the high limbs we cut off so it could produce more abundant and accessible fruit. It reminds me that maybe some of the words I speak need to be pruned, too – cut the critical tone so the fruit of kindness is more abundant and wisdom is more accessible to others.