A is for Apple Tree

I know it's not Thursday, and I know that we're on the letter L tomorrow. But since I'm just writing, and always looking for a good prompt, why not just go back to the beginning, and do the letter A?

I think God really does want us to have apples from our own tree. For a while there I didn't. We've planted fruit trees every year for the last nine, and they've never survived. We've also planted nut trees, and one of those turned out to be a peach tree, but that's another story for another day. We planted three apples trees two years ago, and they all died, except for the granny smith. She didn't flourish, but she didn't die. We had considered moving her, but had so carefully chosen her spot: a bit away from the raspberries, a good bit away from the pine, but in the pine's shadow in the afternoons so that she wouldn't wither in the hot CO sunshine which can be quite intense during the summers.

So there we were. Getting ready for this year's garden. Tomato cages ready. Then came the surprise snow. (Alright, not really a surprise. March is traditionally Colorado's snowiest month and tradition held. )

This was a very wet, heavy snow. So heavy that our fabulous pine, the pine that holds the tree house had some trouble. As you can see.
The branch that flexes it's biceps and holds the house just couldn't do it anymore. For three summers it's been Mr. Universe while the neighborhood boys have climbed up and down and up and down the ladder with their gameboys and DS's and pillows and various contraband snacks pilfered from my food aisle to hide out and steal extra screen time. The branch cracked.
That morning I woke up to snow and cautiously surveyed the damage. And wondered about my apple tree. And went out to take pictures. And couldn't find my apple tree. So I mourned. No apples from my own trees. I give UP. And went about my business. Which of course was to sit on the couch and cough.

It wasn't until the weekend when the Engineer, YellowBoy and Jake went out to be manly and cut up the branch and clean up the mess that I knew the fate of my little tree. My little tree that could.
She is still there. Standing strong. The branch had missed her by mere inches. It had fallen AROUND my tree. In the midst of the mess she was still standing. Thank you God. Thank you.

It got me thinking. Sometimes we're in the middle of a mess. There is chaos all around us. Are we standing strong? Or are we falling under the weight of it? I've been falling lately. I think maybe I'll stand up now.