Fall has displayed itself beautifully over these last few weeks. Leaves of red and gold have glistened in the sun. I’ve tried to be mindful of soaking in the glorious sights because I know winter is coming.

A display of glory just before the dying begins.

The tree just outside my palladian window is already stripped bare to its branches. There’s nothing beautiful about it to me. Just a knotty trunk with scraggly branches. The season of death has announced its coming upon that tree.

Stripped bare and exposed, the dying seems to last forever.

The exposure to bitter cold winds has but one hope: spring…the season of new life. It begins slowly…little buds at first. Then, as if overnight, the tree flourishes with leaves…as if it has breathed in warm, fresh air and exhaled in relief.

It is only through the dying that new life is gained.