This blog post was stolen from my wonderful friend Kerry, over at:

I think this is such a beautiful post…just wanted to share it with you :)

“My mother once said to me, “When one sees the tree in leaf one thinks the beauty of the tree is in its leaves, and then one sees the bare tree.””  Samuel Menashe

I love trees.  The ones in my own yard feel like friends, loyal friends.  I can count on them greeting me and mine at the opening of blinds each morning and then standing watch in the dark while we sleep.  Once lightening struck our grand willow.  I cried at its breaking and rejoiced at learning that half of her could be saved.

When in the forest, it is the trees that have bent under the burden of snow that draw my eye.  Like the arch of a rainbow, they stand out against their neighboring vertical pines.  Each reminds me that no living thing avoids adversity, and even so adversity snows unevenly; often it is the young, the fragile that must bend under great weight.  Yet the ability to bend is a sign of strength.  I cannot pass an arched tree with out a nod of respect.

In the summer, on the beach of a mountain lake not far from home, it is on the stumps of fallen redwoods, bark less and smooth that children play.  Trees that have died, their wood drying, bleaching under the sun, roots exposed, do not send us running.  A trees death does not call for burial or fire; instead it adds beauty to the landscape.  We are not afraid of the remains of dead trees.

I look out the front window right now at the bare bows of our Japanese maple that stretch out just beyond the glass.  A month from now tiny bumps will appear, grow, green, unfold into leaves which will redden and glow.  I will look at the window as I am now.  I will be struck by her beauty.  Yet, right now she graces this cold grey winter morn and glazes my soul with peace, for she seems completely content in her nakedness, in being herself in winter.

As we go about these February days with winter seeming like a guest that has stayed too long, with the anticipation of springs arrival, with a melancholy that can creep in with the lack of sunlight, may we see, may we listen to the trees around us who just might whisper…”Embrace the beauty of your vulnerable February self.”

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