Sitting in her living room she gazes out the window at the leaves. This was a bush planted a few years ago that kept climbing to the heavens. Her landlady asked her last fall, if she wished to have it trimmed to get a clearer glimpse through her window. “Oh, no!! please let it reach the roof and beyond if possible. I love the privacy it offers me so I can keep my drapes drawn and have my cloistered view of life outside my little world.”
Her landlady understood being a woman and living alone on the main floor, a busy street, she might benefit with this sweet discretion nature could provide.
The leaves were giggling and dancing like teenagers at a sleepover. Most of the grownups were fast asleep waiting for the next season but not this rebellious bush. She loved to see the life still withstanding the wind and the rain.
free flutter fly
giggling at the wind
children make believe
This morning, the rains and wind had stripped many trees out front. Her favourite tree in front of her patio window, next to her desk where she spent hours wandering in the forest of her mind, was no longer waving with those yellow leaves of last week. Now the branches, skinny and some thick and strong, crooked and curved were waving to her, inviting her to this new part of the season.
“Look at me sway back and forth!! I am still alive just wearing a new suit. I am mature and wise and will be here with you to lean on even in the dead of winter. So don’t cry over spilt leaves. Tomorrow will bring back strong, fragrant and green robes. You will see. Until then, just lean on me, my trunk can weather almost anything and certainly can hold you for the rest of this season and winter too.”
how valiant am I!
timberland’s warden – always,
lean on me
She smiled at this lovely invitation. It felt like a love letter from a strong, steady lover who may not show his colours but is always there if and when she needs to lean on him. Chuckling to herself aloud, her cat twitches an ear and lazily lifts her head one short moment and returns to her feline haven.
Now did she imagine all of this or did she actually hear the tree speak to her? She slips back into her private woodland hearing sylvan whisper des mots d’amour.
each leaf shows off
clinging for dear life
mocking at the tree
© Tournesol ’15