Deciduous trees start with a delicate beauty And end in vibrant hues again. The tree’s true colors are exposed. There is no holding back, conforming to standards or blending in. To spend the rest of your days in that beautiful authentic expression is something to behold and cherish. Unapologetic without concern of backlash. I celebrate the new blooms. They remind me of a fresh start And the excitement of something new. Fragile like the robin’s nest Sturdy and well made But too low to the ground. Not enough protection to promote healthy offspring. Life is all around us. The birds are learning too. They must feel loss. The robins lost their shelter, their home base. Is it too late to try again? Is nature a cruel teacher? Not so if it prevents future loss of life. We don’t punish the birds. It’s the nature of things. And death too is a part of that cycle Whether we like it or not. And we are a part of nature. It can never be removed No matter how urban and modern our surroundings. The pink blossoms are in their full glory And I am delighted.
The succulent fruit hangs from the peach tree just waiting to be plucked. With just a small amount of force the branch gives way its bounty. A tight snag Then a snap with release. The shape is like a little sun A glowing orb cupped in my hand. The orchard is full of these golden jewels. A bounty of sweet joy. A little green leaf left its mark on the flesh with a little shade from the rays. The rays gave it nourishment And now I jubilantly hold It close to me. I smell its fuzzy soft skin and take a bite. Oh, succulent ripe peach! Its juices no longer contained and they release out with the scent of summer and promise. And the creative potential to alchemize into something more than a mere glowing orb on a tree just waiting for the right passerby to bring its gifts into fruition. What seemed impossible to the little blossom when the sun whispered, “You are more than what you seem. You just wait and have faith.” And I’m at awe to see It bloomed into joy.
Remember the scent of the lilacs. How the air just embodied their aroma and drifted it into the windows into my lungs. Remember when they were teeny tiny buds. How 5-year old Lilly marveled at their small size. Little purple bumps bursting from the green. Remember the Easter lilies and this was the first year I got so low to the ground I could actually smell them for the first time. Remember the towering orange iris. Remember the hearty rosebush. Remember the mimosa tree that once stood proud, colorful and fragrant. Now an empty shell. Bare branches. The weakened trunk sways with a gentle push. Remember the dogwood’s white blossoms and Lilly called the neighbor’s pink blossoms “flower snow” as they fell and covered the ground in small piles of soft pink. Remember the woodpecker, the cardinal, the new birds that decided to stop by for a visit. Remember the bunny rabbit, like Old Faithful, arrives around dinner time looking for her evening meal as well. Remember the hawk perched on top of the playset as a squirrel huddled and hid under the child’s chair unmoving and the hawk ever patient. Remember the blue jays that harassed and chased that hawk away and the squirrel that timidly crawled commando style and lived another day. Remember the sweet breeze from the ocean even reaching here not so close to the shore and how I marveled at the salty refreshing air. Remember the first kiss. The special rock overlooking the bay and our life began together. Remember that tender beginning love is still here under the surface. A beloved memory but always here in my heart.