Every morning, I am assaulted by a cornucopia of colors: burnt sienna, golden yellow, magical magenta, and outrageous orange. These splendid hues dance on the trees and their personalities are alive with fire and passion. They fuel my soul and feed my need for creativity and beauty.
Transformation. Internal. Unseen.
I cannot imagine the life of a tree. There is something majestic about the oaks. Something prim and proper regarding the stately maples. Something emotionally engaging when I consider the dogwoods. Even in their silence, they speak. Not with words, but with their stature, their leaves, their offspring. Acorns, beautiful leaves, white crimson stained flowers.
Manifestation. Overflowing. Being.
Trees don’t do. They don’t have “to do” lists. They are what God made them to be and as a result, they bless me with their beauty.
Fruit trees don’t accomplish having an apple or a pear. A tree’s fruit is a manifestation or an overflow of what was inside the tree all along. Sometimes we can’t see what a tree is capable of by looking at its outer appearance.
But, God sees. He knows. He put it in the DNA of the tree. And He expects nothing less or more of the tree.
Beauty. Passion. Dancing.
As the leaves dance during my morning commute, I am blessed by their overflow. And for that I am grateful. As a pursuer of beauty, my cup runneth over.
When was the last time you took a risk in the direction of your dance? The leaves don’t ask for permission…
“And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”-Anais Nin