My Tree (When the Leaves Begin to Fall)
I could see my favorite tree from my office window for over fifteen years. I knew this Red Maple tree well. In my earlier life, I made a living by planting flowers, shrubs, and trees. The day this tree was planted with 49 of her brothers and sisters was hot and humid, so I remember it well. With great anticipation of her future, I dug the hole and prepared the soil in the location that would be her lifetime residence.
Each spring, with the cold days of winter passed, her leaves would sprout with no idea what the year would hold. Most of her leaves would make the entire journey, but a few wouldn’t. Does anyone notice the leaves that survive a few weeks or months? The ones whose color changes quickly from green to brown and are never celebrated in their Fall glory? Did they serve their purpose? Was there value in all the effort in their short life?
Most admiration for any individual leaf is reserved for when its purpose is almost complete. Rarely does anyone celebrate their daily faithfulness to the task. It seems everyone expects the tree just to do its job.
Sometimes, I wonder about the trees deep in the forest that nobody notices, the ones no human eye ever sees. They do their job year after year, and nobody pays attention, yet everyone benefits from their struggle.
Back to my tree. As a child, my parents always instructed me not to “show off” when we had “company.” I never told my tree not to “show off” because each year, she always did “show off.” I made a point each Fall to take a photo with each of my grandchildren beside my tree at the height of her glory. Each year, her Fall colors were a little different, reflecting the uniqueness of that trip around the Sun.
Most days, I paid little attention to my tree, but in the Fall, she screamed, “Look at me,” and I did. For several weeks each year, she “showed off,” but soon, those beautiful leaves began to surrender their grip and slowly dance to the ground. Even though their colorful glory days had passed, they still had a job to do. As each leaf returned to the soil from which it came, it had one more gift. They would nurture the next season of sprouting “show-offs”; therefore, they would never die but live on with new hope.
Since retiring, I don’t see my tree every day as I used to. Hopefully, I can visit her soon as she begins her weeks of glory. I’m confident she will outlive me and stand strong and proud for many years. I imagine future generations walking by, noticing my tree, and thinking, “Isn’t she a show-off.”
Written in November 2024
Dirt Road Diaries 