A Sudden Freeze Destroyed My Trees and Turned Spring Into Fall

Spring has been a bit bizarre around our neck of the woods. At the end of March, my son and I visited my parents in Tuscon, Arizona. In the desert it is supposed to be hot the last week of March. It was 90 degrees two days prior to landing in the flat stretch of land encircled by old towering volcanic mountains. When we arrived it was struggling to stay in the 70s.

The next day, the temperature dropped to lower 60s/upper 50s and intense thunderstorms rolled in over the mountains. Slowly things warmed up to the upper 70s - but still below normal.

Meanwhile back home it was in the lower to middle 80s, much above normal for the end of March. In fact people were watering their lawns because it was so warm and there was no rain during the week.

As a result of these wonderfully warm days, all the started to break out with their new leaves and flowers. The red buds, dogwoods, oaks, hickory and sugar maples were all greening up at the same time. Pollen was everywhere.

My son and I welcomed the lush green landscape after spending 5 days in the dusty, brown desert. I was excited that Spring was here.

Several days after this record breaking week of high temperatures, high pressure plunged deep into the plains and the south from northern Canada. We plummeted from 85 degrees to barely above 40. For six consecutive nights we had freeze warnings - several nights dipped down into the 20s and the upper teens.

All of the new leaves on the bushes, plants and trees were hit with a deep freeze that froze the water content in the new shoots and dehydrated them. The new leaves on most of the trees are now brown or black and wilted. Yesterday all my oak leaves started falling of the tree - it was like fall. It looks like winter again. It is horrible.

My wife wrote about my “Lorax-like” behavior last week. You can read her wonderfully witty account of my abnormal behavior as I watched those bright green maples and oaks turn brown and black.

Last Sunday, during Easter, I realize that there is a lesson for us buried in this whole Spring fiasco. There are times in our career or in other areas of our life when we are experiencing unusual success (like the unexpected warm weather). We ride high on our success and let our guard down. We aren’t prepared for a sudden change (a deep freeze).

When our success comes to a sudden, unexpected halt, many times we dry up inside. We don’t expect to go from flying high to losing ground. But it happens. Our focus while we go into a deep freeze should be to rebound and recover. Too many times we spend more time lamenting about the current situation instead of concentrating on the future.

For the past two weeks, I have been watching the forty year old majestic oak trees in my back yard. Will they survive? They will have to grow a whole set of new leaves. Do they know how to do this? Can they do this? On and on it goes.

While we were at church on Easter, someone commented that, even though it was 25 degrees on Easter morning, the cold temperature could not prevent Spring from coming. It could delay it, but it could not stop it. Those words reverberated in my mind for the rest of the day. My wife reminded me to look at what Spring would do to correct the damage, instead of concentrating on the destruction.

That is the attitude we have to have when we find ourselves at the bottom. We should be concentrating on what we do best and get back into the game. Although we are not guaranteed to be as successful as mother nature to rebound, we should aspire to do just that. In fact some would argue that if you put your mind to anything, you will achieve it.

If the trees are not giving up, then why should I?

This afternoon I looked closely at a branch of one of the oak trees. I immediately saw the death of the leaves, but as I looked more closely at the branch, I saw something amazing. Although all the new growth was withering and dead, there were new green shoots emerging from different places along the branches. The rebirth of the tree is just around the corner.

So I learn from the tenacity of an oak tree. I might be a few years older than that tree, but it has more wisdom than I do right now. To take a page out of Tolkein’s masterpiece, I need to hang out with the Ents.