How does nature do it? As I walked home tonight, I notice the hundred year old oak in my back yard has begun to turn. It is a lovely old tree with long sweeping branches and a thick covering of full leaves. I pause, admiring the pretty shade of light orange and while musing upon its uniqueness my eye is drawn to two pots of identically shaded party mums sitting in clay pots upon my neighbor’s doorstep.
Could it be that these two remotely related species one spiraling inevitably towards sleep and the other in prime form of wakefulness—both on a sliding scale of color change—might have paused to compliment one another as old oak goes a-browning and the bright little mums strive to shame the sunset hue? I realize that this is life. In our old age, we often reflect shades of youthful splendor, if only in one passing day. While in youth, we seek to reflect those few elders in whom we have seen a spark of greatness.
The sun sinks and all things turn to gray as I round the corner. The moment fades, but another little piece of nature’s infinite balance has found its niche in my mind.
