Snowing in June

Here in the Midwest the first days of June can resemble the first week in January. Fluffy “snow” fills the air as cottonwood trees release their seeds, each one a tiny parachute of new life. When that happens, I always think of Dad. One of his quiet comments about the cottonwood made a permanent mark on my 8 year old heart.

Dad wasn’t an outdoorsman. In 92 years he never suffered a sunburn, deliberately walked in the rain, or slept outside just for fun. He didn’t like yard work, but for the sake of his wife and kids, uprooted himself from the familiarity of Chicago and moved to the “countryside” of 1948 Wilmette. This committed him to mowing an acre yard, tending a fruit orchard, pruning a grape arbor and weeding a vegetable garden.

Our yard had a massive cottonwood, important because of the tire swing Dad hung from a branch 25 feet up. One good underdog push would keep the Goodyear whitewall sailing for a long while. He set a 6 foot ladder just far enough away so we could stand on the top step, leap onto the tire and fly birdlike in big swooping arcs.

One spring when the cottonwood “snow” was especially prolific (clogging screens and accumulating in drifts), neighbors complained about the pesky nature of these trees. But Dad said, “Look how generous God is. Instead of supplying one seed per tree, he gave each one 10,000.” His comment planted a significant seed in my little-girl heart: God is generous.

Not everyone, however, shares my love of the cottonwood tree. Last week a man who detested the annual “snowstorm” of his next-door-neighbor’s cottonwood was convicted in court of killing the tree. A year earlier he’d secretly bored holes down into its roots, then poured in an overdose of Round-Up weed killer. Gradually the flourishing tree had deteriorated, a mystery to its owners.

The tree-assassin figured the law would be on his side since the holes he drilled were on his own property. But the court ruled otherwise, saying the roots of the tree next door, though growing beneath his lawn, belonged to his neighbor. Had this man been blessed with a father like mine, he might not have “murdered” so lightly.

Dad, a structural engineer by profession, consistently directed our attention to the structure within God’s world. As we grew older, our appreciation for what he showed us in nature transferred from the created things to their Creator, which of course was Dad’s underlying intention. An added benefit was our catching on to the great respect he had for God as the structural Designer of it all, which also transferred to us.

Today as I felt “snowflakes” brush past my cheek, I was thankful for a God who demonstrated his charcter through the cottonwood tree and for a father who pointed past the nuisance of fluffy seeds to the generous God behind them.

“Since the creation of the world his invisible attributes, his eternal power and divine nature have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made.” (Romans 1:20)

6 thoughts on “Snowing in June

  1. I haven’t seen a Cottonwood, in about 28 yrs. Thanks, for this wonderful reminder of the pretty fluff. I am always amazed at the colors, designs, and textures of God’s Creation. Lord, Thank-You!

  2. What a wonderful post. God certainly blessed you with remarkable parents.

  3. I love to sit on our front porch and watch the cottonwood “snowflakes” fly by.

  4. I’ve never seen a cottenwood tree; when I saw the photo of the blossoms….I thought it was an artificial ‘rosebud’ made from feathers (that’s how my creative mind works)…they’re beautiful
    Thanks for sharing that reminder.

  5. We have annual springtime ‘stuff’ from the trees around here – kind of a lime green/yellow dust which changes the color of the cars and follows you into your house. I have yet to find a really good reason for it. 🙂