Ahead of me is a figure, to me it looks like a giant bullfrog. I can make out the shapes of it's eyes and mouth squatting on the ground. It appears to be made out of stone. Behind it grows a small weeping willow with it's dresses hanging lifeless.
I see the leaves begin to don their new fall clothing before they become bare and naked awaiting their fresh new beginning. I can relate to the trees, it feels as if it were universal lesson all of us awaiting our fresh new beginning, whether for the first time or the hundredth, it matters not, for that is the point. We are made to renew ourselves hoping each year we will become even more beautiful than the year before.
Each person has their own view of the outfits of the trees, when it would seem they look the best. Be it spring with the new buds bringing new beginnings or the summer when the leaves are lustful in their dark and ripe green completely covered or fall where they sing out their differences and individualize themselves with beautiful displays of yellow, gold, brown, purple, red, and pinks. Or perhaps winter when they are vulnerable, bare and naked and can only prove who they truly are. During winter it is as if they are unashamed, free, knowing that true beauty is within. The rest of the trees seem to agree as they too take a chance and loose their facade and become bare waiting for their new beginning.
*I wrote this a few years ago when I lived in Philadelphia. I used to love going to the Curtis Arboretum. I always found it as a beautiful escape from the hum drums of city life. Every season was beautifully displayed there without too much interruption from human beings.
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