The regal fir tree in our backyard was beaten and downtrodden after the snowstorm that whipped through our area. Its mighty branches were weighted down from the base of the trunk to the pine needles at their very tips. The bottom ones were bent so low they were splayed on the ground. From behind the patio doors, my fertile imagination placed me at the centre of a Harry Potter scenario.
An evil wizard had put a hex on the tree. “Help me, please,” the tree pleaded. Its branches were trapped beneath a web of heavy, white foam that was tightly wrapped around them. With the help of the wind, the tree struggled valiantly to free itself, but to no avail.
Like Harry , I had to do something! Quickly, I put on my boots, coat, hat and mitts and trudged in the knee-deep snow to the base of the tree. I had no magic wand and I thought shouting “Expecto Patronum!” would have the neighbours muttering about the crazy woman next door. Instead, I morphed into elegant Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. I didn’t have a glamorous, glittery gown or a shiny headpiece, but I more than made up for it in good intentions.
I gently shook one of the lower branches. Like magic, the foam web dissolved, transforming into a beautiful layer of thick, white snow. Freed of its burden, the branch soared majestically upward sending snow tumbling down on my head, face and clothes. At the same time, I heard a soft, low rumble, like the sound of a mini-avalanche that ended in a soft sigh. I think the tree whispering “Thank you!”
I continued liberating every branch I could reach and each one sprang gracefully back to life. Somewhere in his hidden lair, I imagined the evil wizard screaming “No! No!” as he cursed me. But then, like Snow White, I was sure bluebirds were trilling and squirrels and other forest creatures were doing a happy dance. All was well with the world.