I’ve been thinking …
…about leaves, and how they mark time.
In 6th grade, I was in Mr. Carey’s class. What a wonderful teacher and person he was. We were on the 2nd floor of a big brick school built during the Great Depression. Outside the window was a huge maple tree that often captured my attention as I contemplated the complexities of life.
I watched the greens turn to vivid reds, and then to bare branches. Such a long, long time looking at those bare branches. What’s that great expression — “summer flies but winter walks.” At that age, it felt like winter crept along.
Finally! There was a hint of life with fuzzy buds, then tiny iridescent green leaves, and then the lovely maple was once again complete with the brilliant big leaves of summer … and I was contemplating the upcoming 7 th grade. Yikes!
So many years later, I marked the passage of other school years with a bank of maples edging a meadow I passed daily on my way to teaching middle schoolers. I barely noticed the deep greens of September as my teacher’s brain was full to overflowing.
But by the time those maples turned on their dazzling display, I was tuned in and fully appreciative of the gleaming reds, oranges, and golds. The entire stand of maples turned at once, making me smile with the magnificence of Nature.
Within weeks, the leaves dropped, of course, and those trees were bare for months. Yet, Ididn’t mind as fall and winter were the prime time for teaching. The trees were bare, but those middle schoolers were blooming!
By the time the maples put on their summer finery, my students were closing out a year of their own growth. I celebrated my 8th graders moving on to what would be their high school successes and delighted in seeing the once silly 7th graders ready for the adventures of 8th grade.
For me, the annual drama of trees transitioning serves as a guide through the seasons of life.
As a child, I anticipated the next thing, waiting for the big moments like holidays, family birthdays, promised excursions. “Winters” of waiting seemed so long. But I have found in my older years, every season holds its own promise for being productive and playful. If we pay attention, the drama of trees transitioning from splendid to stark and back again is a gentle reminder of all that life holds.
