Fall is slowly settling upon us.
While walking with Millie my pug, we’ve been watching the leaves turn into a riot of color. The tree-lined route we take every day, is changing from green leaves to red, to yellow, to orange. Signs that summer is coming to an end.
The multi-colored umbrella we stroll through is alive with birds. We see horses, donkeys, dogs, and cats, as we pass through silently, wrapped in our own thoughts. The Ravens and the Blue Jays compete for supremacy of the sky, or perhaps a tree.
The tree has always been a popular way of suggesting stability. We say our roots run deep, like an old oak, to let others know that our family has lived in an area for generations. The majesty of a redwood tree goes unchallenged, as we strain to see their tops. Their very size suggests eternity.
There are many fruit trees, oaks, and spruce to see on our daily walk. There are a few redwoods, still relatively young and only a couple of hundred feet high, with thin trunks and limbs. We have a half dozen young redwoods lining our back yard. There are also huge stumps on our route, sad reminders of once majestic giants in their prime.
I try to fix my memory on the beauty of the healthy trees, hoping it will take me through the long winter ahead, when they will be stripped bare to brave the elements. They whisper, as we walk by each day, about upcoming skies of gray.