New Leaves

We had our first spring rain a few days ago.  With a pro-longed drought and not nearly enough snow to alleviate the dryness, I welcome the sound of the water falling.  Splat, splat, splat on the skylight; what a wonderful sound to my ears; a few streaks of lightning framed the sky for moments like a brilliant photographers flash.  The dirt, dust, and ash that had been forming minute clouds down that traveled down the driveway were tamped back down with the moisture. 

I have thought that the change from no leaves, to little buds, to the first tentative green leaves, to full blown summery green leaves seems like a magical thing.  Somehow it goes from shades of tan, grey, and white (with any remaining snow), to a light green haze and then – POOF – there are leaves!  How did that happen?  I want to sit up some night, sitting at a bonfire, and watch for leaves to make their appearance.

These little green dots on the landscape make me think of what areas in my life might be in winter dormancy.  What needs a spring thaw to bud and form new shoots?  Hummm…. Spring thoughts can be dangerous. 

Yearly Spring Watch

   Every year I look forward to seeing the trees bud out, the first blossoms prepare to bloom, and the smell of the season change to reflect the earth’s soil melting the ice coat it has had all winter. Somehow each year I miss the moment when the season changes. Not the calendar date that marks when spring officially begins, but the actual moment when the leaves start sprouting and budded flowers start blooming. I think it must happen overnight in the blink of an eye. One moment, everything is still and cautious again late snowfalls and frosts. And then the next moment, caution is thrown aside and the leaves come out. Soon, the trees contain a haze of fresh green and the ground a landscape of littered leaf protectors.

   It seems that normally when the first day occurs that I am at work. The weather is perfect, a light breeze and the temperatures are not too high, and I’m stuck inside. So, this Sunday was such a wonderful anomaly. Sitting in a dark green plastic chair, with my feet propped up on a bright yellow children’s plastic slide I found myself sinking lower and lower as my mid section relaxed into the beautiful day. A book in hand, my Diet Pepsi sitting next to the chair’s legs, and the dogs wandering about the yard finding sticks to eat on – what a lovely way to kick off spring.

Seasons and Roadmaps II

   The fall wind has been blustery these past few days. The leaves are being blown off the most stalwart of fall leaved trees and creating a staccato dance across the driveway. The windows have creaked and the door shifted in its frame as the air has moved so powerfully. As the temperatures fall below freezing, it is quite evident that fall is in full swing and winter will be arriving soon. There are many here who do not care for the snow and the cold winds of winter, many who would prefer warmer and balmier temperatures.

   But, just consider for a moment a different view, that of a macro-economist. That view would say that the snow and cold temperatures are valuable because it kills of germs in the soil. We have more productive growing seasons than those around the equator because of that cold.
   So, with that in mind, we have seasons in life as well. There are days when things are balmy and warm. The sun just feels perfect and a light breeze is keeping the temperature nice. These are the days when everything is going well, life is a smile. We have summer.
   There are times when the world changes color, we feel a little dryer, a bit shriveled inside and watch as the color we normally don’t present to the world becomes first and foremost. We find ourselves losing our leaves, bare before the world. We have fall.
   There are times when the snow falls, and though it is beautiful, it is also bitter cold and austere. The silence is loud, and our ears hear everything move. We long for the warmth of a friendly comfort, a soft blanket, a roaring fire, or a comfortable sweater. We have winter.
   There are times when everything seems to be growing and moving. We may be experiencing growing pains, but we are seeing results. It takes work and time, effort and sweat equity, but the reward is visible and wonderful to see. We have spring.
   We have all of these seasons in our lives, many times over. But, the beauty is that there is more than one, and we will move through them to provide growth. Remember the economist, the soil is better for the freeze of the winter, the heat of the summer, the cool rains of fall, and the warming sunshine of spring. We are also often better for the hardships, the trials, and the rests of warmth.

Seasons and Roadmaps

   Each changing season seems to lead me to want to travel someplace different. The blustery weather that we awoke to yesterday here in our corner of the state had me dreaming of getting in the car and heading off down the road, but to where?

   The fall winds blow, the leaves start making their showy appearance and I start dreaming of South Dakota. The last warmth to find the plains before the beginning of the wintry snow that will sweep through the grasses. I so would love to find myself winding the way through the pine trees as the snow starts, and then watching the buffalo walk through the whiteness, creating a path with their amazingly deft mass.
   Or the cool wetness of a spring day, whisking me off to Alaska in July; the feel of the water into the air, the vapor of the sea moist and salty to the touch. Blooms are fragrant and the leaves are deep shades of green.
  As I prepare to travel now, I think of other places I have been fortunate enough to see. There is such a beautiful world out there, so many roads to travel. I’m excited to be off and exploring.

Dear Autumn,

   I walked out the door this morning, and you were here! I’m so excited to see you. Once again, your arrival is first rate. The leaves are just at a wonderful hue of color, and when the morning sun shines against them they are little lamps of tint and dyes. They crunch under foot and make beautiful waterfall sounds falling from the eaves. You have perfumed the air with the late blooming flowers, sweet and fragrant against the cooling earth. I look forward to the smooth feel of the pumpkins, the taste of the first cider, and the feel of cool wind and warm sun.

   Oh Autumn, I’m so glad you have come. I hope you can stay for a long while.

The Smell of Fall

   The time of year, I eagerly await the first day that smells like fall. The combination of musty leaf smell, with the sweet smell of pumpkins on the breeze signals the changing season. Unlike the warm smell of summer, the fall smells carry so many different things with them. Last night, just for a moment, I caught a hint of the autumn smells and was so excited.

   It is the smell of leaves, wet with the cooler rains and the earth cooling for winter. The smell of chili on the stove, with crackers and cheese melted in. The quiet of a cool fog on the river, as the sound of the boat horns cut through the stillness. Leaves that dry and scatter across the ground start crackling like the bonfires, with the aromatic smells of the wood being caught in their smoke. I’m so looking forward to another fall, another season of smells and sights to enjoy.

The Great Painter

   As a little girl, I remember driving in the car, looking out the window at the scenes going by. As the leaves would change color, she would tell me about the Great Painter. In my mind, I imagined someone cradling each leaf in their hand and applying paint ever so gently. Each leaf a unique creation of art. The leaves are starting to turn again, and with that my thoughts turn to the Great Painter. I am looking forward to seeing the creation of color again, the blending of reds, yellows, oranges, and browns with smatterings of late greens.

   Times whiz by, seasons slip past just like the scenery out that car window. It can go so quickly. It is important to pause and consider the art around us.

Grass in the Sidewalk

I was walking up the hill to the car and it struck me that the grasses growing in the cracks of the sidewalk had withered to a very dead shade of plant burned brown. Just a few weeks ago, these plants were bright green and growing quite well. Yes, I know that sidewalks shouldn’t have grasses growing up in them without breaking the concrete eventually. I just remember noticing them because they were such a bright green.

The thing that really struck me as I continued up the hill was that I can empathize with those plants. Though this is not where I am currently at, I realize that just like those plants in the sidewalk, too much heat and not enough water makes me wilt. I need inspiration, time, quiet, noise, music, friendship, laughter, and love. I recognize that just like eating properly requires decisions and effort, so does growth. You can’t just toss out a long term goal of growth or change without planning some steps and how you will continue to re-invigorate your purpose along the way. Otherwise, you wind up just like the grass in the sidewalk, leaves dropped to the pavement, brown, and dry.

Lessons from the Fig Tree

If you keep reading Matthew 24, Jesus goes on to provide examples of the signs of the upcoming season.  There are a "darkened sun, a lightless moon, falling stars, and the shaking of the heavenly bodies.  The list goes on, the Son of Man appearing in the sky, the nations of the earth, the power and glory of the Son of Man as he comes on the clouds.  Angels and trumpets, trumpets with some volume, and the gathering of the elect," (Matthew 24:29-31).

That sounds like quite the tumult to me.  Shaking, falling, this way and that way - rather chaotic.  And yet, I know that God is a God of order.  Thus, it is following a plan.  Which reminds me of the way seasons change.  Here in the Midwest, we see snow, rain, sleet, tornadoes, and sudden heat waves plunging into cold snaps as part of the transition into summer.  There are signs present which give us a warning or heads up that the change is coming. 

In much the same way, we have these changing things mentioned as something to make us aware that the Son of Man is coming to gather his elect.  In fact, Jesus goes so far as to point this out with the fig tree lesson.  "As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near.  Even so, when you see all these things, you know that it is near, right at the door.  I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away," (Matthew 24:32-35). 

Lessons from the Fig Tree - enjoy spring!

The Great Painter

Ever since I can remember, every fall I have heard the story of the Great Painter. Every fall, the leaves slowly change from their chlorophyll full green to their real shade of yellow, red, orange, and tan. The Great Painter paints each leaf; each is its own work of art – unique and special. If the leaves stayed green, we would miss the colors of fall.

Life changes too, colors of transformation. I think about ten years ago, 5 years ago, or yesterday. Each day is unique; each is its own piece of art. I can think of some days that are kind of orange, filled with warmth. They remind me of days with fire rings, low bonfires with potatoes roasting in the coals, a pile of marshmallows ready to be licked by flames and caramelized.

The yellow leaves, sunny in color are some of my favorites. Like bits of sunshine caught all the way into the cell walls of the leaf, they hold color of sweet Indian summer days, holding bits of tantalizing warmth. I’ve had some yellow leaf days, days that are full of brightness, laughter, and friendship.

Caught on misty wet sidewalks, the tan leaves stick to the concrete. They are the misty, rainy days that declare it is necessary to grab a soft blanket and go back to bed. Candle light, a fire in the stove, sweatshirts, and warm soup are all needed on the tan days. Tan days are the blah, ho-hum days. There may be some tears, there may be some wishing for different colors. These are also the days to be thankful for the other colors.

As the Great Painter paints the leaves, and the days – I’m hoping for lots of orange and yellow days, but know that there will be some tan days as well. After all, how could they orange and yellow be as sweet without them?