Trees and Seasons

As I drive into my neighborhood lately I am taken aback with the stunning display of various kinds of trees in brilliant autumn splendor. I can't help but slow down so I can enjoy the various shades of orange, red, and yellow before me.

My enjoyment of the brilliance of the change of seasons this year has caused me to reflecti on the change of seasons in my own life, and the lives of women around me.

I googled life expectancy and found out that the average woman born when I was can expect to live until age 74. Then, I did a little bit of math to calculate my age in terms of the months of the year.

Jan = 6
Feb = 12
Mar = 19
Apr = 25
May = 31
Jun = 37
Jul = 43
Aug = 49
Sep = 56
Oct = 62
Nov = 68
Dec = 74

That makes me a September.

Think about nature and how the trees begin to change in September as they prepare for the coming winter. I like to think that at age 50 I am beginning to display my own brilliant colors in the form of wisdom, creativity, and being willing to share the gifts that I've been given.

The leaves that are so beautiful right now will soon fall and turn into mulch and compost to feed that very tree from which they fall. The organic matter that they turn into will also nourish new sprouts in the future.

In the same way, I will one day fall from my own tree. I want to leave behind memories that will ensure that the tree, my family tree, continues to grow. I hope that I can leave behind some wisdom and happiness that will nourish the sprouts, Makiya and Jaxon, and those yet to be born.

The September, October, November, and even December of my life is the season for making sure that the organic matter I leave behind continues to nourish my tree after I am gone. The earlier months have been a time of growing, learning, exploring, and even grieving. Those experiences have made me into the woman I am today and prepared me for such a time as this.

I pray that in my autumn I will display the glorious colors of lessons learned along the way. I pray that the color of my autumn is tinged with love, patience, joy and wisdom as I prepare to make compost and mulch.