Good Bones

There's a maple tree in

front of our house

~ Autumn Blaze ~

that dazzles in the fall, 

when she is adorned in 

bright red leaves.

We've had cars stop,

this year, to take 

her picture.

The show doesn't last

long, though, and before we 

know it, she has shed her 

mantle and is standing only 

partially clothed, waiting 

for the last of her leaves to blow

away as she settles into winter.

All we will see for the

next five months will be

her strong, proud, branches

raised sky ward.

She has good bones.

Which got me thinking

about human beings, who,

instead of living a cyclical

life like our maple tree, take

a straight path, from

tiny branches and

supple green leaves

to the flush of

adulthood, covered

 in splendid leaves

and then to

full maturity,

with fewer leaves but

sturdy trunks and 

strong branches.

Trees do this shoots-to-

leaves-to-shedding dance

over and over, but we 

will do it just once.

If we are lucky.

Our good bones are not

xylem and phloem, but

the cumulation of a 

life well-lived; of wisdom,

love and kindnesses we 

have shown to others; the

true essence of our spirit.

So when the strong winds

blow into our lives and

start to strip our leaves ~

our years ~ away, what

remains is the us that took

years to fully form.

Our good bones.

Sometimes life throws us

curves along the way and

we have to bend, the way a

 tree rails against the wind.

But like a house that has

been worn or neglected,

if it has good bones, it has

potential for resurrection.

A lot of us worry about

our leaves, because the media

and popular culture tell us

to.  But in the end, isn't the

real beauty in those bare

branches ~ those bones

representing our souls ~

that have the greatest and

longest-lasting impact on 

the world?

I like to think so.

I really do.

Good bones embracing new ones : )

Today as I throw on my 

down vest and toss my 

plaid scarf around my neck,

hook up Gracie's leash and

head out for a walk in the

November sunshine, I am

going to shift my lens and

take in all the lovely, naked

trees along the way, not just 

the ones still covered in their 

autumn finery.

Their turn will come.
All of our turns will come.

And there is poetry in that.

xx

Suzanne

PS:  Thank you to all of

you who joined me last Monday

around the virtual water cooler

to share a moment or two from

your week or weekend.  I will

be there with my coffee cup this

Monday, as well, and hope to see

you there!