Michigan Forest Life - June 10, 2026

Hello friends,

I sit in the Treehouse’s easy chair at Winterfield Pines Nature Sanctuary watching the surrounding world take on an eerie darkness. Everyone in the community knew this was coming -- foreshadowed by a severe thunderstorm warning for those attending their smartphones. Ten minutes ago the world was bright and sunny.

First came the wind. Trees whipped around like dog tails, colliding with each other at the

canopy, supporting each other as they crashed. From the treehouse I see it. I feel it. I am part of it. Pinecones rained on the Treehouse's metal roof. Now they pelt it, but less frequently. More rain. Less wind.

A cool breeze transforms the treehouse -- a few windows are open. The breeze erases today's heat. Waves of rain, heavy rain, drum the roof in appealing crescendos (Photos 1 - 4).

And I am dry.

There is beauty in experiencing this storm from inside, and so close. The sound. The power. The comfort. It is a pre-natal kind of comfort, sitting safely in a place I have learned to trust. My cocoon. I have been part of this treehouse long enough to trust it. I feel it's love.

The rumble of thunder is distant, but it approaches. Rain and wind calm, waiting for the main assault. I will wait too. Watch it come in. It is moving slower than I thought it would.

The weather app warning came with an exclamation mark! It made me pause, wondering about all the possibilities. I remember when, before smartphones, there was no app to warn people in the woods. No exclamation marks. We read the weather by visible conditions. We knew the temperature by stepping outside – feeling it kiss our cheek. We understood the calm before the storm and got ready, knowing the possible danger.

I sit in this easy chair now, watching Mother Nature wash the world and feeling an extraordinary calm. The cuckoo clock ticks and tocks the Treehouse's heartbeat. The world is alive. Breathing. I know what is coming, or at least what is likely to come.

Thunder passes close, but a bit to the south. The sky brightens even though the sun is setting. I step onto the porch and feel cooler air. A jet passes overhead. Low. It sounds like thunder. 

What is a jet doing here in weather like this? There's something odd about it.

One more stray thunderbolt. Close. The gods are bowling. Ten points. A strike.

I wish you a thunderstorm... and shelter that has earned your trust. 

Until next time,

Dan