The dance of the trees
I have a sitting area in my bedroom with large French doors that lead out onto a small deck. My day typically starts and ends on the plush red loveseat that faces the glass barrier to the outside. It is a beautiful view, no matter what the time of year. The full foliage of the summer, making the woods a dense forest; the rebirth of life and soft pastels in the spring; the vibrant colors of fall that shift and sway, and eventually fall to the ground; and yes, even the barren trees of winter, devoid of leaves or life, showing off their crooked appendages, allowing a glimpse of life beyond the wooded area of our private enclave. No matter the time of year, I can find focus and inspiration.
I chose this spot because it is quiet, and I can concentrate without much distraction (I say much because I am still a mom – there is always distraction). When I get tired, or need a break from looking at the computer screen, or emptying my favorite blue gel pens and filling legal pads, I can look out the window and find something that brings me back around. This morning is no different.
My daughter informed me on the drive to school that it is the first day of spring. Naturally, she believes that since it is written on the calendar, the weather should be nice, the sun always shining, and winter a forgotten memory. It is still cold (it has reached nearly 40 degrees), the wind is still brisk, but the sun is shining, so not a complete loss. I have been sitting here this morning, going through the usual daily work-ups, checking my calendar for deadlines, forever editing, and trying to get some new stuff down on paper. I have been hunched over my computer for the past 2 ½ hours. My back is tight, my brain is screaming at me for more coffee, and my inspiration has left the room, and is wandering aimlessly through the house.
I relaxed against the comfortable cushions of my red couch (did I mention it is red?), and looked out the window. Since my bedroom is on the uppermost level of the house, I am closer to the tops of the trees, where the branches start to thin, becoming spindly fingers reaching into the blue sky, poking the passing clouds. My eyes focused on something new, something I had not seen recently among the varying degrees of brown in the woods.
They are red (of course), and peppering the branches just outside my reach. Blooms have attached themselves to the long arms of the trees, bursting free of their winter hibernation, breaking up the monotony of the winter wear. My eyes are drawn to them, and I wonder how long they have been there. Did they come out in the middle of the night, or with the rising sun? Have they been there for a while, and I have been that unobservant of them? Or have they been shy, peeking out only a little at a time, self-conscious of being the first to appear at the party, and wearing bright red to boot?
The answer does not really matter. It made me smile to see them, to welcome them into the picture frame of my daily existence. The wind and the trees seemed happy with the blooms arrival, as they danced together, swaying softly to unheard music; an unknown-to-humans spring ritual of beckoning life from the deep sleep of winter.
Where I was lacking motivation and inspiration just moments ago, I am renewed. Thank you, Mother Nature. Now…back to work….