Autumn is on the horizon and the trees are starting to turn.
In my garden, the beech is loosing its deep purple hue and will soon lay a carpet of copper leaves over the lawn. Oaks are becoming golden, horse chestnuts dropping conkers, squirrels darting through the dew to devour them, using an old tree stump as their table.
Trees create a comforting pattern.
They are dormant in winter, bloom in spring, lustrous in summer and a warm rainbow in autumn. The cycle is beautiful and dependable, a reminder that, whatever life throws at us, nature continues, life always goes on, bad times will pass, good times will return.
Trees send roots deep into the ground, remaining sturdy whatever the season, yet they are flexible too, bending and swaying in the wind. They may lose branches, crack from time to time, but they continue to grow. Even when they fall or are burned, hope always remains. It’s not uncommon for shoots to rise from the ashes, for a tree to start again.
Earlier this year, my partner was clearing out a clogged gutter when, among the debris, he found a baby oak tree. He rescued it and put it in a pot. It’s out there now, waving in the breeze, a reminder that wonderful things can sprout out of places that seem hopeless.
Old trees may get new chances too. In a field near my home, a giant fellow blew down one winter and it looked like all hope was lost. Over time, however, it’s grown a new trunk, new branches, new leaves. Every time I walk past, I’m thankful that life can begin afresh.
Your writing is a glorious tree. Water it often. Let it flourish.
May its roots draw upon your experiences, making your words, your perspectives unique. When there is doubt, let it be a sturdy presence, there in the sunshine and the storms, there to comfort and celebrate. Keep writing, whatever the season.
May your words be here for you now and live on for generations.