...and I'm sitting in my office working, but out my office window I can see a collection of trees. Some coniferous, some deciduous. The coniferous are all a tired dark green, while the deciduous are now all naked...well, except for one.
The exception is a birch, it is in my next door neighbor's back yard. It is still full of bright yellow leaves. I've been contemplating this phenomena for several days, because there are two other birches in this yard and there is not one leaf left on them. What is the matter with the sunny birch it refuses to give into the ritual of going to sleep for the winter?
Maybe life is like that birch. As we get older, we become more tired, less quick, our lust for life not as robust as it was in our youth, yet the alternative is so unattractive, no matter what our age our hearts continue to do it's work, like the birch, unwilling to let go of precious life.
I like seeing this tree every morning, it's beautiful and inspiring. I like to think its refusal to let go of this years growth is its way to ward off the fact winter, and the winter of life, is inevitable. It, and I, are about to start another year in our circle of life. Neither of us want to accept that so, we willing to fight until our hearts give out. We are strong and hardy stock, that birch and I, though it is inescapable we must face the coming winter, we will cling to autumn until a blast of winter wind blows the last leaf from that tree.
Hang in there birch tree, I'm your greatest fan and cheer leader, because with every day, and every remaining leaf, you are a sign there will be one less day to my winter.
I wish I could be the last leaf to cling to that tree, I would hang on till spring.
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