It was a wintery day after a storm. I heard crows in my neighbor’s tree, cawing, cawing, calling me out. I opened my front door. A series of big storms have blown through and I feel as if I’ve been cleared out, cleaned out, rattled to my core. Usually the wind and the rain can leave me up at night listening to the sounds pelting the metal chimney. But this day, the crows cawed and I came out and looked at the tree. There’s something about being taking down through the winter season, wind and rain, all leaves gone, bare branches exposed. All of who we were is stripped to the bare essential of who we are. A tree, rooted, tall, beautiful, alive. And what did the crows say? Fly!