Outside My Bedroom Window

I feel like Autumn came and barely settled in before it was dethroned. But, then again, fall is always a funny season in this part of Virginia.

There's this amazing tree outside my bedroom window. It's practically perfect. It's branches overlap in the most graceful of ways. It's leaves turn a pale yellow early in the season. I imagine even it's bark would feel splendid, if it was close enough to touch.
A beautiful day last month, I sat on my couch under the window in my bedroom, and was overwhelmed with the beauty of it all. The sky was grey, the colors of everything else was a little muted, too. Except the yellow tree. It's bright leaves stood out among its slightly dreary surroundings. And as the wind came in surges, the leaves would fall with such careful choreography it seemed.

I held my breath. Because it was so much like a movie.
In fact, it would have been the perfect situation for a couple in a romance movie or something. Or for a heart-warming moment in a person's life.

All too soon, though, the leaves are gone. It's branches are still gracefully placed; it's bark still most likely splendid. But the color is gone.


I've been feeling like that in some ways. Maybe that's why this picture has stuck with me.

Because sometimes I feel like all my color is gone. All the brightness. All that makes an average tree amazing, and unique, and worthy of notice. Even now, as I sit in Barnes and Noble by the window seat, it's all grey: the sky, the people, the faces, the shoes...

What is it about our surroundings that can so well paint a picture of the condition of our souls?

Or do we paint our souls to match the condition of the surroundings?

Fall is a season. Winter is a season. Indeed, my entire life is constructed of seasons.
Some with color; some with grey.
Some with leaves; some without.

But seasons always change. The minute you get used to one, the next is half-way here. Even the world moves in circles. It spins and spins and spins and spins and spins and spins. Never sitting still.

I don't know what my point is in this. I think mainly to command my soul to hope.
After all, my tree is still my favorite tree.
And it's leaves always come back.

Grey never stays for long. It's only ever a season. The color comes back in due time.

In fact, it's on its way.

Photo Credit: Josiah Crumrine