I don’t know why the leaves change their color in the fall. Even less do I understand why, after working all season long to grow the flittering objects of breathtaking color, at what seems to be the height of their beauty, the tree lets them go…Or, maybe it’s the leaves that decide to go, I don’t know which it is. Either way, there’s a certain poignancy about it, I think.
Maybe trees don’t have emotions, but it still seems so amazing to me how they can start out each season with nothing, then quietly with unassuming conviction, they bud and bloom, turn to the most magnificent shades of yellow, orange, red and everything in between, sharing their beauty, asking nothing in return, and only a few short months later to graciously shed nearly every last one of those things they have worked all year to create. No complaints, no remorse, no questioning the purpose or wisdom of at all. No dreading or worrying about whether they will be cold in the winter, have enough rain and sun in the spring, be able to fight off the bugs and disease in the summer, or be as beautiful in the autumn as they have in years past.
Sometimes the leaves seem to be anxious to move on, to confetti cover the grass, to decorate sidewalks, to provide entertainment for little kids, to experience a new part of life.
Others grip to their limbs, trying to hang on as long as they can. They don’t want to let go and the trust the wind to take them where it will. To move on to a different stage of life, whatever it holds.
Maybe the trees welcome being rid of the extra baggage, like that feeling of lightness and rejuvenation that you get after a new haircut. Maybe others know that in a matter of days they will be getting new clothes, more in fashion for the season… at least for Cle Elum.
After a lovely couple of days in Seattle, I arrived home to this. |