Wildflowers Press

The Tree

Eyes filled – saturated reds, fluttering, dropping… like ancient stars falling – losing one palmate leaf at a time.  Ephemeral, carnelian, lichen splotched branches reach delicately skyward.  A breath loosens the small red hands – a graceful dance to earth awaiting death and decay.  Ground smattered with the first remnants of loosed tendrils, blood-red flakes rest until crushed by a careless paw or unappreciative foot.  In a week, it’ll be naked aside from one or two resistant holders-on.  I’ll let my eyes soak in its crimson beauty, as the deciduous nature of things bleed it of its glorious color.  The tree won’t die, but the foliage will, transforming from deep russet velvet to crumpled, dead brown, subsumed by the earth, decaying to become food and shelter for the micro-cosmos of insects and invisible things that depend on its decomposed essence.  

Even in stillness, leaves fall, as if they’ve given up. No more fight left. Is this giving up, not maintaining the struggle or is it surrender to what can’t be undone?   Is surrender always a bad thing?  Does it mean we lose sight of our dreams, our hopes?  Or is it a way to find grace in the things we can’t undo or control?  We’re told we must fight for the things we believe in.. the things we want and need.  We must soldier on… never let go… never lose hope.  

Can we let go?  Can we release and find freedom in that?  

My Japanese maple is not an evergreen.  It will never be compelled to hold its color.  It must die and be reborn each season.  The vibrant little tree that graces the back porch of our piney woods house, makes me smile – even when a breeze kicks up and leaves rain down, losing color and vitality a little at a time.  Next week, I’ll be lucky to find a few remnants of these astonishing reds.  It’ll be a skeleton, having lost its flaming hair – just limbs reaching for the sun, preserving its energy through chilly days – resting dormant, waiting for the warmth of spring. 

Trees aren’t the only things that need rest and moments of dormancy.  Even my evergreens change to prepare for the hardness of winter.  Bark thickens, pinecones are loosed – allowing the tree to release unnecessary burdens.  What burdens can I release? As I walk around my garden, witnessing the shriveled and browning of my once lush Eden – I have to remind myself, this is temporary.  And like the falling leaves, I need to float and rest a bit, to find the energy for what’s coming next.  

In this beginning of winter, find time for rest and re-fueling.  Keep your eyes open for the small beauties that astound, when we take notice.  

Happy Holidays friends and family.

~ Cathy Schieffelin