On The Threshold

One of the many things I love about Green Country is the experience of all four seasons.  When we lived in Wyoming, I only knew Summer and Winter.  We had a short-lived Autumn and I don't really remember Spring... tulips, maybe, but they grew in the cool air of Wyoming Summers too. 

Today I walked about my yard with my camera, taking notice of the comings and goings of this season.

Green leaves faded as red and gold overtook the crepe myrtle outside our bedroom window

Bare branches exposed where lush greenery once thrived, now sparse, 

painted yellow and striped in brown from the brush of chilly winds.

A Hyacinth Bean sprouts anew.   Does she not know that Winter is coming in the back door?

A rose bud reaches for the sun who shines this day into a soft warm pleasure.

The Verbena and Geranium bloom next to the tropical fern outside our back door, 

not the least bit worried about the forecast for frost.

While our front walk looks like a path through the grave yard of summer's bounty,

and the gutters fill with dead leaves,

the holly tree grows ever more green, filling herself with lush red berries,

feed for birds and delight for me.

Winter is coming, I know.  

But now is the threshold where all stands in between.

The morning chill makes me pull  the bed covers over my shoulders, 

thinking there will be no open windows.

The sun warms the day, confusing my senses.

I am on the threshold between this life and the next.

I grow.

My bones feel dry.

I feed the birds.

I delight in the day.

21. I am grateful for leaves dancing in the wind.

I hope you can stop and look up today.  I hope that whatever is changing in your life right now is only a threshold to something warmer, brighter and new.  I hope you grow toward the sun.

 Yaya