I see the months leading up to winter as a buffer zone, a training session of sorts for the long, snowy isolation that begins with January’s first snowstorm. They prepare us gently for what’s to come. In my mind, this transition is also mirrored in the stages of autumn trees. They start out with a splendor of changing leaves, vibrant at first and then slowly changing to a more subtle beauty of mellow tones of burnt orange and mustard-y yellows. In due time, however, each leaf falls from branch to ground, leaving bare branches that have a unique beauty all their own. I suppose the loveliness in this is sometimes harder to see, as it can be with the long days of winter. But, I still love the look of lone branches, whether they are delicately silhouetted against a dusky sky or creating a magical maze of branches high in the air. Perhaps there is beauty to be found in all things, if we just take the time to look a little closer.
I see the months leading up to winter as a buffer zone, a training session of sorts for the long, snowy isolation that begins with January’s first snowstorm. They prepare us gently for what’s to come. In my mind, this transition is also mirrored in the stages of autumn trees. They start out with a splendor of changing leaves, vibrant at first and then slowly changing to a more subtle beauty of mellow tones of burnt orange and mustard-y yellows. In due time, however, each leaf falls from branch to ground, leaving bare branches that have a unique beauty all their own. I suppose the loveliness in this is sometimes harder to see, as it can be with the long days of winter. But, I still love the look of lone branches, whether they are delicately silhouetted against a dusky sky or creating a magical maze of branches high in the air. Perhaps there is beauty to be found in all things, if we just take the time to look a little closer.
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