At first I didn’t really like these huge droopy bushes that dominated our yard. We have two in the front yard and one out the back. Joe said they look dejected, defeated, like they were releasing an exhausted sigh.
And when winter came, their branches were bare and twisted, a bunch of sticks haphazardly criss-crossing around each other. They looked a bit haggard and generally untidy. A visitor remarked that they looked dreadful. Puzzlingly I felt offended.
I realised I had grown to appreciate them. The mulberry in the backyard in particular is my tree. There is so much beauty in its mass of twisted branches. I love watching it in each different season;
the Autumn leaves, yellow and falling until the tree is completely bare.
In Winter, its bare and twisted branches stark in the foggy morning.
The tiny buds coming through in Spring, like little green drops of hope, slowly unfurling into beautifully formed leaves.
The lush green canopy it creates in the Summer.
It speaks to me, my tree.
It is not sighing in defeat or dejectedness. It sighs with a deep, relaxed pleasure and relieved ecstasy at the arrival of the warm, bright Summer as promised. Its branches do not droop but reach lovingly towards the earth from which it began its journey.
There is a lot to be said for respecting the seasons, in appreciating the differences and beauty in each.
And there is strength and peace in being grounded, although it may take some twists and turns to find your way back to that place.
I’m posting every day for the month of October as part of