An unexpected pleasure: having morning coffee on the porch, in October, wrapped in only one layer of fuzzy warm things, and gifted by all the usual suspects: light, breeze, sound, water. I can almost hear the trees plan how to survive the winter: go deep; have patience; breathe slowly; accept that, without leaves, ice, too, makes them beautiful. From where I sit, I can see the ghosts of at least six big trees that have come down over the decades: chestnut, maple, birch, maple, magnolia, maple. Well, six and a half, but so far, the copper beech that lost half itself in the hurricane a couple of years ago clearly has considered that pruning rather than death blow and come back gangbusters, full-leaf majesty at the crown of the hill, planning for winter, rather than giving up and giving in. I probably need to pay attention to that behavior, and sink into this soft day and pallid almost-warmth, rejoice in my losses. And remember this morning later, after the earth has turned further, and the days dark too many hours for my taste. Or when we have a winter storm, breeding irritation and frustration with digging out my car one. more. time. Breathe slowly, and have patience, go deep, and accept that ice, too, makes things beautiful.
Posted on: Wed, 08 Oct 2014 13:12:41 +0000
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