"Sometimes the Universe whispers. Sometimes it drops a tree in your yard."

There's been so much going on around here lately that I honestly don't even know where to start. What I can say is this: Source and the skies have had me absolutely bobbing and weaving over the last week. Not in a bad way either. In fact, I've been incredibly productive. But if there's one thing I've learned recently, it's that productivity doesn't always look like sitting quietly at your desk checking things off a to-do list. Sometimes productivity looks like adapting. Sometimes it looks like pivoting. And sometimes it looks like handling whatever life decides to throw at you next.

Power outages have become regular enough around here that they're almost starting to feel like part of the schedule. We had one outage last week when a breaker blew down the road. Then another planned shutdown on Sunday while hubby and kiddo tackled some major tree trimming around the barn and power lines. At that point I figured we'd probably had our fill of excitement for a while. Apparently Source disagreed.

Monday afternoon I was in the middle of a Zoom call when I got a message. Not a gentle nudge. Not one of those little whispers you can choose to ignore. A full-on message. Loud and clear. Shut it down. Now. Normally I would've wrapped things up properly. Saved files. Closed programs. Finished conversations. Instead, I simply told the person on the call that I needed to go and I'd call them back shortly. I shut everything down and walked away from my desk.

Five minutes later I was reaching for the front door when I heard it. If you've ever heard a large tree hit the ground, you know exactly what I'm talking about. There's a weight to that sound. A finality to it. The kind of sound that instantly tells you something significant just happened. Then everything went dark. No flickering lights. No warning. Just done.

For a split second I had absolutely no idea what had happened. Had a tree hit the garage? The truck? The house? We have enough mature trees on this property that any of those possibilities felt realistic. Then came the thought that hit me harder than the sound itself: where's my husband? Thankfully that question was answered almost immediately by a very loud "OH FUCK" coming from the deck. Now, if you know my husband, you'll understand why hearing that particular phrase got my attention. His daily vocabulary is usually significantly cleaner than mine.

The tree had come down. The power line was wrapped up in it. And suddenly there wasn't time to think. There was only time to act. Hubby headed for the breaker at the pole while I started making phone calls. The dogs were losing their minds. Hail was coming down like Mother Nature wanted to remind us what winter looked like. The wind was howling. The power was out. And somehow in the middle of all that chaos, I found myself surprisingly calm. Maybe that's what happens when you've spent enough time learning to trust yourself.

ATCO was called, the dogs were losing their minds, hail was coming down like Mother Nature wanted to remind us what winter looked like, and the wind was doing its best to convince us that humans are not actually in charge of much. Somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, I found myself surprisingly calm. Maybe that's what happens when you've spent enough time learning to trust yourself.

It wasn't long before an ATCO truck pulled into the yard, and wouldn't you know it, it was the same technician who had helped us during the outage the week before. He stepped out, took one look around, and laughed.

"Wow, you missed me."

Honestly, it was exactly what we needed in that moment.

A reminder to breathe.

A reminder to laugh.

A reminder that even when things feel chaotic, a little humour goes a long way.

Once the line was made safe, he explained that we'd need an electrician to come out and reconnect everything. That kicked off the next phase of the adventure. Phone calls were made. Pictures were sent. We tracked down an electrician who, understandably, was already dealing with storm-related calls all over the place. We weren't exactly the only people who'd had a rough afternoon.

So we waited.

And while we waited, life carried on.

Hubby got to work cleaning up the mess. By the time the electrician arrived hours later, he'd already bucked up the tree and cleared a good chunk of the brush. The truck had escaped with only a few scratches, which still feels like a miracle considering how close the tree came. My apple trees weren't quite as fortunate, and yes, I'm still pouting about that a little. But they did exactly what trees do. They took the hit and protected something else.

As for me, I eventually realized that even if the power wasn't coming back anytime soon, people still needed to eat. Since we'd done groceries that morning, we had plenty of food in the house. The problem was actually cooking any of it. So I made a run into town and grabbed takeout while we waited for the electrician to work his way through his growing list of storm calls.

By the time power was finally restored around 11 o'clock that night, I barely had enough energy left to eat. We made sure everything was functioning properly, checked on the basement, took a deep breath, and called it a day. After the kind of afternoon we'd had, bed sounded far more appealing than anything else on my to-do list.

The next morning I woke up with this nagging feeling that none of it was random. Not the outages. Not the tree. Not the timing. Not even the fact that I'd gotten that unmistakable message to shut everything down minutes before it happened. There was something in it that I wasn't fully seeing yet.

So between client work and calls, I spent some time talking with a friend. One of those friends who doesn't tell you what to think, but somehow helps you hear your own thoughts more clearly. The kind who asks the right questions, helps you sort through the mental clutter, and occasionally gives you a kick in the ass when you need one.

And sure enough, somewhere in that conversation, the clarity came.

Not because she handed me an answer.

Because talking it through helped me finally hear my own.

As I sit here this morning on Canada Day with an absolutely massive to-do list staring me in the face, I find myself feeling something I wasn't expecting: gratitude. Gratitude for the message. Gratitude for the clarity. Gratitude for the protection. Gratitude for the reminder that sometimes the things that feel disruptive are actually keeping us safe. Most of all, gratitude that my family, my home, and our little zoo are all safe and sound.

The tree came down. The power went out. The message came through.

And now it's time to get shit done.

Although with tomorrow's scheduled power outage shortening my workday too, I might finally take the hint and spend some time planting those herbs and flowers we picked up before the storm hit. Because apparently Source has been making it very clear lately that not everything on my to-do list needs to happen at my desk.